Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Atsumu sighed as he crumpled up the sixth piece of paper.

Why wasn’t this working?

He’d been trying for almost a month at this point, but the words just wouldn’t cooperate with him.

At all.

How the hell was he supposed to do this?

“‘Tsumu. Shut up. You’re so loud,” Osamu complained, and Atsumu huffed.

“You shut up. You got plenty loud last week when you found out about that catering thing.”

“Yeah, for a few hours. You’ve been draggin this out for weeks, ‘Tsumu. Just fucking get it over with, ok?”

Atsumu bit back a growl. On any other day, about anything else, Atsumu would happily bicker with Osamu.

“I…” Atsumu tried, but today, and about this, he didn’t have much to say for himself, and Osamu sighed.

“You’re just bein a chicken. Leave a letter if you have to or something, just stop worrying about it so much. I can’t focus with you being all torn up.”

Atsumu stared down at the crumpled piece of paper in front of him, coated as it was with ink, mostly in jagged scribbles that mercifully hid his rather pitiful attempt at verbalizing his feelings.
Though, truth be told, a piece of paper would probably deliver them more gracefully than he could in person, if he could get the words on said paper to cooperate with him.

“Fine,” he grumbled after a beat, though the word, or, thought, rather, tasted somewhat bitter on his metaphorical tongue.

“Good. Now shut up and let me make dinner in peace.”

Atsumu went to retort, but a knock on his door drew his attention. “Atsumu?” his mom started. “I’m leaving now.”

Atsumu cursed to himself as he stood, shoving Osamu from his mind as best he could. “Ok, one second,” he called back as he swept the papers into his desk drawer before hurrying to his door and opening it, finding his mom on the other side, smiling.

“Hey. I’m sorry about this,” she said, and Atsumu shook his head.

“Don’t be,” he shrugged. “It’s work.”

“I know, but still. I wish I didn’t have to leave you here by yourself so much.”

“Not by myself,” Atsumu corrected, glancing towards his dresser, and the cat, snoozing comfortably in a small bed, on top of it. “I’ve got Kuro.”

“And I’m incredibly grateful to him for keeping you company,” she smiled. “I’ll be back soon, hopefully.”

Atsumu nodded as she stepped in, giving him a quick hug. “Bye,” he muttered, and she hugged him a little tighter.

“Bye,” she echoed. “Maybe...maybe one of these times, you could come with me. Would you want to?”

Atsumu blinked before laughing. “Thanks, but I can’t be missing practice if we wanna win nationals this year. I think me and Kuro are ok managing on our own for a couple days.”

“Ok, ok. That’s fair. Work trips are usually pretty boring anyway,” she conceded as she pulled away.

“Course they are. It’s work, but after hours. Who the hell would enjoy that?” Atsumu responded, directing the words internally as well.

“You’re one to talk,” Osamu started, and Atsumu had to fight off a smile as his mom good-naturedly rolled her eyes at him.

“You know it’s not quite like that, Atsumu. But, fine. Text me if you need anything, alright?” she fretted as she headed towards the front door. “And don’t forget that Fujimoto-san’s here all this week too, if you need him!”

“Yup! See ya,” Atsumu called after her.

He looked towards his desk for a moment, and the papers nestled within it. The words that, for some reason, just wouldn't put themselves together.

He knew how he felt, he always did, that part was easy.

Translating feelings into a language that others could understand? In a way that wasn’t blunt to the point of being aggressive or passive in a way that seemed malicious?

Not so easy.

He trudged to his desk and dropped down, digging the papers out, smoothing a few out, and staring down at them. The longer he did, the less convinced he was that there were words in a language others could understand to describe what he was feeling, what had been aching in his chest for months. Every attempt had just felt so…so hollow.

But Atsumu wasn’t one to give up or back down, he reminded himself as he picked his pen back up.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been working, but the next thing Atsumu knew, something was flinging itself into his lap, purring and meowing at the same time. He pulled himself from his thoughts, smiling as he sat his pen down and stroked the cat's head.

“Hiya, Kuro,” he murmured to the cat, getting a loud meow in response. “Right, right, we both need some food, don’t we?” he asked as he glanced at the clock, noting how late it had gotten. He scooped Kuro into his arms as he stood from his chair and strode towards the kitchen. Kuro nipped at the bracelet on Atsumu’s left wrist, and Atsumu sighed in exasperation, setting the cat down as soon as he reached the kitchen. “That’s not a chew toy, sweetheart,” he said, shaking his head as he booped Kuro gently on the nose before straightening up. “Well. I’m thinking leftovers. How ‘bout you?” he asked, getting yet another meow in response. “Leftovers it is,” he nodded.

Five minutes later, there were two full bowls of food, one on the floor, Kuro’s head shoved into it, and one on the table, being eaten from, in a manner only slightly more dignified, by Atsumu.

“Keep it down. I’m trying to finish my homework,” Osamu complained.

Atsumu rolled his eyes, not even taking a breath as he responded. “No. You always get loud when you eat, I think this is fair.”

“Fair my ass. I've got a test next week.”

“Tough luck.”

“Yeah, having you stuck in my brain,” Osamu returned. There was a beat of silence before he continued. “...How’s your letter writing goin?”

Atsumu smiled a bit. Well, at least Osamu was capable of being nice, even if he wasn’t always. “Annoying, but I think I’ve almost got it.”

“Good. Now quiet down.”

And Atsumu was too tired to really fight over it, so he simply did his best to tune Osamu out as he finished his dinner.

His thoughts pulled towards the newest letter, despite his best efforts.

He had lied to Osamu.

It was done.

There was no way he could put his feelings into words anymore accurately.

Now all he needed was the guts to give it to the one who had stirred up all these language defying feelings.

He was pretty sure that part would end up being even harder than the first part.

He shook himself from his thoughts and stood, quickly washing his bowl, and felt Kuro bumping against his legs. He smiled as he finished drying his hands. “Whatcha doing down there bud?” he asked as he looked down at the cat, who stared up at him, eyes dilating as he crouched into a position that looked a whole lot like he was getting ready to jump. “Oh no you don’t,” Atsumu muttered, quickly bending down and scooping him up, wanting to avoid any more human climbing tree based injuries.

He made his way into his room, Kuro purring in his arms, and dropped down onto his bed, sighing as he stretched out a bit, keeping Kuro on his chest. Kuro just shifted around, getting comfy, and then purring even more as Atsumu began to gently run his hands through Kuro’s fur, eyes starting to drift shut.

As they did, his mind wandered to next week, and the practice game they’d be having on Thursday. He was pretty sure Inarizaki would win. Just at the edge of his mind, he started to be aware of thoughts of numbers and formulas and graphs, and he groaned.

“Hey. Keep it down,” Atsumu said, echoing Osamu’s earlier words.

“You keep it down. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Atsumu groaned again as he rubbed at his eyes, hoping this would be over soon. He wasn’t the best student, but he and Osamu had a loose agreement to help each other out if possible when the need arose. He just hated that it always happened when he was exhausted.

“Do I even wanna know what it is?”

“...Math.”

“Great. I know exactly how to help,” Atsumu deadpanned, and Osamu huffed again.

“Did I ask you to help? No.”

“Well then shut it or let me help you,” Atsumu yawned, the warmth and softness from Kuro and his mattress under him putting him dangerously close to sleep. He heard a soft snort.

“I’ll take option one. You’re not even taking this class right now.”

Atsumu finally felt his brain quiet down a bit, Osamu tuning out, and relaxed even further.

In fact, he was almost asleep, just a moment later, thoughts meandering from the paper on his desk, to the practice game, to his mom's return from her work trip, when he was rudely dragged back to reality by the sting of sharp teeth and claws against his left wrist. He yelped, yanking his hand away from Kuro as his eyes flew open. “The hell, man?” he complained, rubbing his bare wrist as Kuro all but sprinted out of the room.

Wait.

Atsumu blinked a few times and stared at his wrist. Sure enough, there was no bracelet. Atsumu cursed as he stood, heading into the living room, towards Kuro’s cat tower. “C’mon buddy! Where’d you take it?” he asked as he glanced around, not finding any sign of a bracelet or a cat. Until he caught sight of Kuro as he disappeared towards the back door, and Atsumu cursed again as he darted after. Kuro could get outside from that door in five seconds flat if it was unlocked, and Atsumu still didn’t know how he’d learned to open it.

“Aha!” he exclaimed, quickly grabbing Kuro, and not a moment too soon, as they were standing right in front of the unlocked back door. “Aw dude, what the hell?” Atsumu muttered, tugging the bracelet out of Kuro’s mouth and finding several tooth marks and tears in the braided dark brown material. “C’mon! You know where this came from, why’d you try to eat it?” he muttered as he quickly locked the back door before heading towards his bedroom. “I know I told you that my dad got it for me,” he continued.

Though, he really wasn’t sure how much the guy meant to him these days.

“He gave it to me when I was just a baby,” he recounted. “And now you’ve gone and torn it.” hH sighed as he sat Kuro down. “Maybe I can fix it,” he muttered to himself, turning it over in his hands as he sat at his desk before quickly putting the papers away. Kuro settled in his dresser-top bed and watched.

He watched for the entire hour that Atsumu fiddled with the bracelet, each attempt at fixing it not holding for more than a few minutes before Atsumu finally gave up. He tossed the damaged bracelet into his nightstand drawer, his junk drawer, and huffed as he threw himself onto his bed.

Well, he didn’t even know his dad, did he? He’d never met the guy, his mom refused to talk about him, leaving Atsumu to wonder if he was even alive or not, and all he’d left was that one, dark brown, adjustable length, braided bracelet made out of Atsumu couldn’t even tell what after all these years. Something like leather, maybe? Or a really tough fabric? Atsumu huffed to himself as he shifted onto his side, tugging his blanket over himself.

It didn’t even matter what it had been. It was for the best that it had gotten torn, he decided. He didn’t want a memento from a complete stranger, even if he held half of his DNA. Right?

Atsumu gently touched his bare left wrist and shook his head.

Right.

“Oh my god shut up, you're so loud when you bicker with yourself like this,” Osamu complained. “I got a paper to finish, so I need some quiet,” Atsumu could only yawn, not able to find the energy to fight with Osamu tonight, as odd as that felt.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m goin’ to sleep,” he responded, reaching out to turn his lamp off and glancing towards the glowing red numbers reading 12:36 am from his bedside alarm clock.

Yeah. He didn’t need to know his dad, he thought as he began to drift off. He had his mom a text away, and he had Kuro on top of his dresser, and he had Fujimoto next door. He heard another huff.

“That doesn’t sound like sleep.”

And, of course, ‘Samu in his head.

---

“Thanks again, Osamu,” his stepmother said as the two of them leafed through a recipe list one Sunday morning. “I don’t know how I ever ran this place without you.”

Osamu shrugged. “You were doing fine without me,” he answered, and she laughed.

“Maybe. But now I’m doing well, and there's a difference,” she said affectionately. “There's no way I ever could’ve taken on such a big job without your help,” she added, and Osamu just nodded.

Sometimes, whenever she said stuff like that, it just reminded him of how quickly things had changed for him after he started cooking. After getting a job at her restaurant and quitting volleyball.
He had loved volleyball. He really had. But cooking was something he could see himself doing long term. He wasn’t sure if he could’ve said that about volleyball.

“Shut your trap, volleyball’s awesome.” a voice interjected into Osamu’s thoughts, and he bit back a growl.

Again?

He’d been in Osamu’s head so much more than normal this week, ever since Osamu heard him thinking way too loudly about his dad at midnight on Tuesday.

“I’m at work, jackass. Get outta my head.”

“Not if your badmouthin’ my sport.”

“I’ll badmouth it more if you don’t scram.”

“Hey, you’re the one who was thinkin about it so loudly I couldn’t ignore it.”

“Not my fault you can’t tune me out.”

Though, Osamu had to admit, it was odd. He had assumed that as they got older, it would get easier to tune each other out. And that had been the case up until about two years ago, when they were fourteen and Osamu accidentally ended up telling Atsumu he was done with volleyball. They’d gotten into a fight, and then hadn’t even been able to block each other out.

“You wouldn’t be able to tune it out either, it was louder than a fuckin rock concert,” Atsumu complained.

“And how the hell would you know? You've never been to one.”

“I don’t tell you everything, ‘Samu.” Atsumu retorted, and Osamu had to fight to keep his face neutral.

“Hey, you...doin ok over there, Osamu?” his stepmother asked, and Osamu wrenched himself out of his other conversation. He had gotten a lot better at keeping his conversations with Atsumu inside his head, but knew it had to look a little weird from the outside sometimes.

It looked a little weird from the inside too, but Osamu didn’t like to think about that.

“Yeah, M’fine. What should we start with?” he asked, shaking his head as though that would lower Atsumu’s volume.

It wouldn’t. He had tried. A lot. It took concentration, not shaking, to tune him out. And patience, and usually more of both of those things than Osamu had to spare.

“I’m really busy right now, ‘Tsumu. Leave me alone. Go play with your cat or something,” Osamu said. Atsumu was usually annoying, but pretty good about leaving Osamu alone when actually necessary.

“I’ve got human friends too, you know,” Atsumu retorted, and Osamu still wasn’t sure how he could tell Atsumu was mentally sticking his tongue out, but he could.

“Yeah, like your sixty five year old neighbor.”

“Hey, you ba-” Atsumu yelped, and Osamu felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright?” his stepmother asked again, brow drawing up in concern, and Osamu forced himself to focus on her instead of Atsumu’s string of curses and insults.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said, shaking his head.

“You sure? You don’t have to help if you don-”

“I’ll help,” Osamu assured. This was a really big job after all. They needed all hands on deck. “I’m alright, just, had a lot of schoolwork this weekend.”

“If you say so,” she said with a raised eyebrow as she let go of Osamu. “Now, I wanted to start with these. You wanna handle this while I get the other?” she asked, handing Osamu a recipe. He nodded as he looked it over before heading to the sink and washing his hands.

It was a recipe he was familiar with, at least, he thought as he stared down at his hands and saw the light tanline on his left wrist. His thoughts briefly flashed to the bracelet sitting on his nightstand at home.

He never wore the bracelet his mom had given him when he cooked. It would be too much of a hazard in a kitchen. And while he doubted his heart would shatter if it was damaged, he knew he’d be upset. Osamu couldn’t remember her, she and his dad had divorced when he was young, he had been told.

It felt sort of…nice to know that she’d at least given him something before she left. To know that, even if it wasn’t much, in some way, he had meant something to her. His dad didn’t seem to share that sentiment or harbor much remaining affection, though, and seemed more than happy to have moved on. Osamu’s soon to be official/legal stepmother proved that well enough.

Though, honestly, Osamu wasn’t complaining. She was kind and funny and had actually tried to get to know Osamu, which, while odd, was a welcome oddity. It felt a little...weird, sometimes, but hers was the face he saw when he heard the word mom.

“-nd useless, and-Wait, why’re you thinkin about your mom?” Atsumu asked, his voice finally breaking back into Osamu’s awareness.

“Tsumu, shut up. I’m actually cooking now. Get outta my head or I’m gonna end up cutting a finger off.”

Atsumu huffed, but with a little extra focus, Osamu was able to block him all the way out (and Osamu’s own stray thoughts about his family and past), and he smiled softly to himself as he began cooking. Finally, peace and quiet.

Don't get Osamu wrong, after over a decade, he would've been more upset than anything else if he lost contact with Atsumu. Their bond, whatever it was, however it had formed, was one of the few constants Osamu didn’t tend to mind. But this week, it'd just been so much louder and harder to block out than normal.

There was a fine line between being able to talk to Atsumu and being unable to stop hearing him, and this week had leaned towards the latter, for reasons Osamu didn’t fully understand. He’d asked Atsumu about it, but he’d been equally clueless.

So, like they usually did when it came to each other, they simply wrote it off. The same way they had when they’d started talking when they were young, but didn’t know how to really make sense of it. The same way they’d stopped talking out loud to each other when people gave them funny looks and made sure to control their expressions during conversations, not really understanding why, but knowing it was what they were supposed to do.

It had worked in the past, so it would work now.

-

Many long hours later, Osamu was finally stumbling into clean clothes after a shower. He had ended up in the kitchen almost the entire day, helping test and taste various dishes and finish up the menu for the big event they’d be catering in just under a week. He vaguely wondered if he’d be going to this one. Most of the ones in the past he’d just helped prepare for, and stayed home with his dad during.

But this time, his dad was going too. Something about how important this one was and making connections or something Osamu didn’t really care about. The financial and admin side of the business that his dad handled was way less fun than the actual cooking, in his opinion. Plus, Osamu was older now, and had been given a bigger say in planning for this event. His dad might not like it, he seemed to want to keep Osamu a little closer to home, but Osamu’s boss might have some extra pull this time around, given that she was engaged to his dad.

He hoped he'd be able to. He thought it would be nice, getting to actually be at one of the events he had put in work for. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the brown, braided bracelet he’d left on his nightstand before he went into work.

He also didn’t notice that it would be the first night he slept without that bracelet on since he was four years old.

All he noticed was the soft blue glow from his alarm clock, reading 11:52 pm as his eyes drifted shut, mind beginning to fill with fuzzy thoughts of the event and all of its potential to be the beginning of something for him. To be something that showed his work and his growth and his talent.

Something big.

-

Osamu woke up, blinking heavily as he rolled over and looked towards his clock, finding its cheerful red glow declaring 5:29 am. He blinked a few more times.

Red?

He moved to toss the blanket he was covered with off. His blanket wasn’t this fluffy, he realised, feeling it against his bare skin.

Bare skin?

Where was his shirt? He had gone to sleep in a loose t-shirt, but it was noticeably absent now, as he stared down at the soft blanket he’d never seen before and his bare chest. He wrenched his eyes up and looked around, just enough light entering the window from a streetlight outside to illuminate a room full of unfamiliar shapes in places they shouldn’t have been.

He felt his heart rate pick up as he forced his eyes back towards the alarm clock, an unfamiliar red instead of comforting blue.

As it clicked to 5:30 am, several things happened in quick succession.

The alarm clock began to beep loudly, making Osamu jump.

Something warm and moving and definitely alive jumped onto Osamu’s midsection.

Osamu screamed.

As he did, he all but flung himself out of the bed, hearing a rather alarming hiss and feeling claws against his left arm. He hit the floor, slamming his elbow against something on the way down, and scrambled to his feet.

There, on the bed, illuminated in the low light Osamu’s eyes were just beginning to adjust to, was a black cat, staring at him with big green eyes.

Osamu didn’t have a cat.

Osamu felt his chest heaving, his heart racing, and his mind buzzing incoherently as it tried to make sense of all the wrongness of the room around him, a room he’d never been in before, the alarm continuing to scream, his arm starting to ache.

The cat sitting on the bed just stared at him, tilting its head as it watched Osamu struggle to anchor himself(?) to reality. The cat…

Osamu’s eyes widened.

He didn’t have a black cat.

But he knew someone who did.

“‘Tsumu,” he tried urgently, closing his eyes and pouring all his focus into the words. “Wake up you bastard. ‘Tsumu!”

“Geez, what? Why’d you wake- Wait, it’s already five thirty?” Atsumu yawned.

“Look around. Where are you?”

“What? You just woke me up. I’m in my-” He went silent for several lengthy seconds. “‘Samu, is there a reason you wanna know where I am?”

“Because I think I know the answer,” Osamu responded, swallowing as he looked down again, eyes far better adjusted to the low light spilling in from the window.

He took in the arms that weren’t quite his, that had more muscle and stronger hands. The large scar on the right wrist from a tree climbing accident involving a tree Osamu had never seen, but had heard plenty about. The loose lounge pants that Osamu most definitely hadn’t worn to bed last night.

He wrenched his gaze up, to the surrounding room.

That was the desk Atsumu had complained about moving into his room a year ago. Those were the curtains Atsumu had gotten a year and half ago. That, on the floor by the closet, was the first volleyball Atsumu got when he was nine, and next to it was the newest one he’d gotten, only a few months ago.

The silence almost screamed as Osamu squeezed his eyes shut, brain listing in his skull as the wrongness of everything around him settled into rightness.

“‘Samu...you think we might just be dreaming?” Atsumu offered after a beat. Osamu assumed he’d been having a similar moment.

Osamu exhaled.

He wanted to believe that.

He really, really did.

But he could feel the blood beginning to trickle down his left arm, courtesy of Kuro, and the way his knee and arm were starting to ache from his fall to the floor.

“No,” he finally managed, heart still pounding.

“You know, I was afraid you’d say something like that,” Atsumu laughed humorlessly, and Osamu took a deep breath, Kuro still watching him.

“Let-let’s not panic yet. Maybe we can fix this.”

“Great. Any ideas on how?”

“Same way we talk. Patience and concentration.”

-

Over an hour later, they had both run completely out of both of those things.

“Ok, when do we call this, because it isn’t working,” Osamu snapped.

“This was your idea, you know,” Atsumu returned. “Maybe we have to do something else.”

"Well I don’t hear you suggesting anything.”

“Yeah, well...That’s because I don’t have another idea. But I’m not staying stuck as you. We’re figurin this out, whatever it takes!”

“And how long do we keep tryin the same thing over and over hopin somethin different’ll happen?” Osamu challenged before taking a deep breath. “Look, it’s a Monday, ‘Tsumu,” he pointed out. “We both have to go to school."

“Yeah. Our own schools in our own bodies,” Atsumu retorted. “And, since we’re bringing that up, do we want to mention that we look almost identical?” he asked, voice pitching up. “I mean, we have to be...we would have to be literal twins to both look like this.”

"Well maybe we fuckin are, I don’t know,” Osamu shot back, and there was a long beat of silence.

“...’Samu, you never did meet your mom, did you?”

“No? Wait. ‘Tsumu, That’s not even jumping to conclusions, that's more like pole vaulting to them.”

“Your mom, what did she look like? Do you remember?”

“I didn't mean it. There's no way we’re actually twins."

“Why not? She didn’t die, did she? You said your dad never told you, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then how do we know?”

“We can't be.”

“Ok, then what the hell’s your theory about all this? Cause I'd love to hear it.”

“I…I don’t know. But we’re not twins, we can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not’? It would-it would mean-”

“Would mean what? That there’s shit someone hasn’t told us? That there’s more to us than we realize?”

“You’re not my fucking twin! You’re just a fucking superpowered jerk that accidentally formed a permanent telepathic bond with me when you were little and didn’t know how your powers worked,” Osamu retorted, repeating what he had told himself about Atsumu his whole life.

He had vaguely mentioned voices in heads when he was about six, and a friend at school told a story about a relative with abilities who had done something similar, and he refused to entertain another explanation for almost a decade.

He wasn’t about to start now.

“Yeah? And you are too? Because that’s what I always thought you were, you bastard. But it looks like we’re both wrong now, doesn't it?"

“None of this explains what’s actually going on! Even if we’re twins, why the hell did this happen now and not years ago? Did someone do this to us? Are we doing this?” Osamu shot back, his anger rising along with fear, and his voice.

“How the hell would I know? All I know is that last week mom left and my bracelet broke and I was tired and stressed all week and you wouldn’t fuckin Shut up!”

“I wouldn’t shut up?” Osamu snarled. “You were in my head all of last week, yelling about your practice game and everything else!”

“I already told you, I wasn’t trying to!”

“Then why did you!?”

“How should I know?!" Atsumu repeated, and Osamu growled.

“Maybe because you were-” Osamu froze mid sentence, eyes widening. “‘Tsumu. Did you say bracelet?”

"What?” Atsumu said, energy faltering a bit at Osamu’s tone shift as took a breath. “Yeah? I’ve had it my whole life. I know I’ve mentioned it before. It’s brown and braided. Or, it was. No clue what it was made out of, I don’t think I’ve seen another like it.”

Osamu's stomach sank.

This...was starting to get even weirder.

“Look on my nightstand.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it!” Osamu snapped.

“Fine!” There was a beat of silence, Osamu almost trembling again, just like when he’d woken up.

This...there was no way they were actually twins, right?

“‘Samu,” Atsumu finally started. “This is my bracelet.” Osamu's stomach sank even further. “This is the exact same as the bracelet that Kuro chewed up last week. It’s in my nightstand drawer.”

“My…’Tsumu, my mom gave me that bracelet before she left, remember?”

“Yeah. Remember that my dad gave me mine when I was born?”

“Yeah,” Osamu managed.

“I always wondered what happened to the guy,” Atsumu laughed, borderline desperately. “I never even thought to ask if he’d taken anyone with him.”

“Maybe...maybe,” Osamu tried, mind reeling. “Wait. Your mom, she doesn’t have powers, does she?” he asked.

“Huh? No, I know I’ve told you that. She's never mentioned it, and that's definitely something she would've told me. And what does that have to do with anything?”

“My dad doesn't either, jackass,” Osamu responded, trying to keep his voice a little more level. Atsumu didn’t need Osamu to match his energy right now. Not when they still had so much to figure out. “But...what if, what if we switched because it’s a power? And we can talk because of a power?”

“We just established that isn’t genetically possible.”

“Your dad might’ve had a power.”

“Yeah, your mom might’ve too, you never knew her.”

“No. She didn’t. My dad was clear about that,” Osamu said, repressing a bit of a shudder.

He and his dad weren’t close, but he felt confident he knew that much.

It felt like Atsumu almost leaned back, like he was pulling away from the sore spot, in response.

“Ok. Ok, your mom didn’t have powers,” he conceded, the energy beginning to ebb out again, Atsumu’s voice lowering a bit. “But...I guess my dad could’ve? My mom really doesn’t like talking about him, so she never mentioned.”

Now they were getting somewhere.

“Ok. So…what if… what if I’m adopted,” Osamu managed.

“What?”

“What if your mom’s my mom too. Maybe your dad died and your mom couldn’t deal with two kids and no spouse so she… gave me up.”

“Well, it’s possible. It might explain why she doesn’t like talking about it. But, you're not adopted according to your dad, are you?”

“No, jackass. I would’ve already said that if I was. But, he could’ve just...not told me.”

“What?! He would do something like that?”

“Yes,” Osamu responded immediately and firmly.

“Oh. I knew he wasn’t great, but...” Atsumu was silent for a beat. “That sucks. But, it’s not the only explanation,” Atsumu finally continued, clearing his throat.

“You got a better one?”

“Nope. But this is all still speculation, ‘Samu.”

“Right. And we’re still in each other's bodies either way,” he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “I was so excited for the job this weekend too.” he very nearly whined.

“Yeah, and I’m excited for my practice game. And I’m gonna get to go to it.”

“How?”

“Because if this is a power, there should be an off switch,” Atsumu pointed out. “It might be hard to find, it might be difficult to activate, but we can get our bodies back.”

Osamu drew in a deep breath, rubbing his eyes as Atsumu continued.

“Most body switches revert if the people who were swapped touch, right?”

“Right. So just hop on a train from Tokyo all the way out to Hyogo without explaining why to my dad,” Osamu responded drily, but his stomach lightened a bit.

Atsumu was right, after all. They could figure something out, even if it took a minute.

“Fine, but you could-” Atsumu started before cutting himself off with a few curses. “Fujimoto would notice if you were gone for that long,” he muttered, and they lapsed into silence for a moment. “Wait a minute, that big event you were all excited for, the one you thought you might get to go to, it’s in the middle of Tokyo, isn’t it?” Atsumu asked.

“Yeah?”

“Is it at that really fancy hotel in Tokyo? The Grand Prince, or whatever?"

"What? I didn't tell you that, how did you know?” Osamu asked, and Atsumu laughed.

“Because my mom’s performing at that event this weekend!” he said, laughter growing.

“And? How does that help us?”

“You can ask her to take me! And I can get your dad to let you actually go to it for the catering and stuff. We can run into each other and bing bam boom, we get our bodies back,” Atsumu said, almost breathlessly.

“That’s…”

“A brilliant idea and the perfect solution to our current predicament?” Atsumu asked smugly, and Osamu had to bite his tongue.

“Risky. It’s risky. Do you really think you can be me for an entire week?”

Atsumu shrugged, though Osamu still wasn’t sure how he could tell that over telepathy. “Do you really think we have another choice? he asked. “Cause it’s not like I’m excited to miss practice and Kuro for a whole week.”

“...Fine. I guess being in your head for a decade and a half is finally gonna pay off. But, ‘Tsumu, if we’re doin this, you can’t tell my dad. You know that right?”

“Of course. And you can’t tell my mom. She’d flip and come home early and you wouldn’t get to go.”

“Wait, but, if it was her husband or boyfriend who had powers, shouldn’t we actually tell her what's going on?”

“No. Everytime I try to mention my dad, she shuts the conversation down and acts really weird. I don’t know how she’d react to this, and besides, we don’t even know if we’re right. We could be way off, and I…this is a conversation I think I want to have with her, I don’t want you doin it,” Atsumu huffed.

“Ok. And you’re right, we’ll probably get more answers with both our parents around,” Osamu admitted.

“Of course. So, we’ll keep it secret.”

“Secret,” Osamu echoed in agreement. “And, against my better judgment, I’m trusting you, ok? I’m trusting you to be nice to my friends, to take work seriously, and to, above all not talk back to my dad. Ok?”

"I won’t, I won’t,” Atsumu assured. “As long as you won’t blow off practice. And take good care of Kuro.”

“Alright, anything else?”

"Promise me,” Atsumu said vehemently, and Osamu blinked.

“Ok. I promise,” Osamu replied. “Will you promise?”

“I promise.”

“Ok. Ok, we can do this.”

“Yeah. If anything, you got the easier end of the deal, ‘Samu. My mom’s gonna be gone most of this week, so you only gotta worry about acting like me at school."

“We’ll see who has it easier by the end of this whole thing,” Osamu snorted. “You're probably gonna-Ah!” Osamu yelped as about thirteen pounds of fur and claws dove from the bed onto his shoulder.

“What? What just happened? Did you break something?!”

“No. It’s your fuckin demon cat. He’s tryin to climb me, and doin a pretty good job,” Osamu winced as he grabbed Kuro, trying to pull him off.

“Kuro is not a demon!” Atsumu retorted. “But he’s probably really hungry. I normally feed him right when I wake up. I thought we’d get switched back, so I didn’t tell you to, but you should go feed him now,” Atsumu continued as Osamu finally managed to get Kuro’s claws out of his shoulder. “His food’s in the cabinet next to the sink, and his bowl’s on a little mat shaped like a fish by the table. He gets a half a can of wet food and two of the scoops in the bag full of the dry food, but you have to mix ‘em together or he won’t eat the kibble,” Atsumu said as Osamu put the cat on the floor, and Kuro stared up at him, almost skeptically.

“God, you raised a spoiled little brat, didn’t you?"

“No. I raised an upstanding citizen. Now go feed him,” Atsumu repeated as Osamu walked to the door of Atsumu’s bedroom.

“Yeah, yeah,” Osamu scoffed, but hesitated as he grabbed the doorknob.

It was the same shape as the one in Osamu’s bedroom.

He liked that.

He liked it a lot.

“I can feel you stalling, ‘Samu.”

“Shut up,” Osamu snapped without moving.

He knew it wouldn’t, but it felt like leaving the bedroom would make this whole thing more real.

“When do you leave for school? Should I...go get breakfast? Is your dad home?” Atsumu asked, almost tentatively. Almost like he was scared too. Osamu huffed as his grip on the doorknob increased.

“He isn’t home. But you don’t have to leave for school until seven thirty.”

“‘Samu, it’s five after seven.”

“Wait, really?! What time do you need to leave for practice?”

Atsumu snorted. “We don’t practice on Monday mornings, remember? But tomorrow, you’re gonna have to leave around six. Now go feed my cat, bastard.”

"Well then go feed my body, bastard,” Osamu shot back, still unable to make himself turn the knob.

“Fine. On three?”

“On three.”

“One.”

“Two,” Osamu said, taking a deep breath before they spoke in unison.

“Three.”

Osamu twisted the knob, pushing the door open, Kuro darting out in front of him, making a beeline for the kitchen, Osamu assumed.

“Where is your dad anyway?” Atsumu asked after a moment as Osamu took a few tentative steps down the hallway head swiveling as he took in his surroundings.

“He stayed over at my stepmom's place. Something about finalizing the budget for the trip this weekend. What about your mom? When’s she getting back?”

Atsumu sighed a little. “Who knows. Could be Tuesday. Might end up being Friday.” he shrugged.

“She doesn't tell you?”

“Nope. And it's fine,” Atsumu said in a tone that invited no further discussion, and it was just as well, given that Osamu had arrived in the kitchen.

He shook his head a bit as he went to the cabinet Atsumu had indicated earlier and snagged the necessary food.

Osamu hadn’t tried to keep his feelings about his dad secret from Atsumu. There wouldn’t have been any point. Sure, things were…tense, sometimes, and he felt better away from home than in it, but it had gotten easier as Osamu grew up. He made friends, he focused on his cooking, he learned when to keep his head down and mouth shut and it was fine.

But Atsumu seemed to try to keep his mom mostly out of his conversations with Osamu. He had caught snatches of memories and thoughts and feelings, though.

String music and an overwhelming sense of safety. The taste of cheap convenience store pastries and a warmth like laughter.

He didn’t really like it when those leaked through.

Osamu was rudely dragged back to reality by the feeling of claws against his back and he yelped again, Kuro now on his shoulder. He only stayed a minute before quickly jumping off and sprinting out of the room.

“The hell was that?” Atsumu asked. “You were just thinkin about your dad and then you screamed. You didn’t-”

“I didn’t break anything,” Osamu snapped. “It was your demon cat again. And get outta my head. I wasn’t trying to talk to you about my dad.”

“Doesn't seem like there's gonna be a whole lot of getting out of each other's heads this week,” Atsumu pointed out. “Whatever it was, whyever we switched, seems like it’s making it harder to block each other out, right? And besides, if we help each other, our performances will be more convincing.”

“Did you just acknowledge that help would be useful? Instead of claiming you can handle something clearly above your paygrade on your own?”

“Yeah. Shut up. And mostly just because I know Someone abandoned volleyball at the beginning of high school and wouldn’t survive a single practice at Inarizaki, much less the practice game on Thursday, without my help,” he scoffed.

Osamu rolled his eyes. “Didn’t we have this fight two years ago? Do we really need to have it again?”

“It wasn’t a fight! I just don’t get why you-”

“No. No, we're not doing this this morning. I’ve gotta feed your ‘upstanding citizen’ before he scratches me again. And you need to get some food into my body before school.”

“...Fine,” Atsumu grumbled, and Osamu could tell he was biting his tongue.

Osamu just huffed again as he opened the bag of cat food and scooped some kibble into the bowl.

It hadn’t been a big deal, really.

Osamu hadn’t quit volleyball to hurt Atsumu. They both knew that. Osamu shook his head as he grabbed a can of cat food and stood up, shutting the cabinet softly. None of that mattered right now anyway.

“Hey where are the bowls?” Atsumu asked, and Osamu sighed.

“Top cabinet on the far left. After school, we should really give each other a better rundown on how our houses are organized,” Osamu said as he sat the full bowl of food back on the mat.

Atsumu scoffed. “Forget our houses. We need to figure out how to deal with school today. I know your teachers and classes and stuff, but I’ve never been in the building,” Atsumu pointed out.

“You’ll be fine, I’ll walk you through it when you get there. And speakin of school, you can’t be mean to my friends,”

“I know, you already made me promise-”

“Yeah, but I mean you can’t be rude for me. Like, you can’t be an Atsumu level of nice, you have to be an Osamu level of nice.”

“The hell's that supposed to mean? You’re no saint yourself.”

“Maybe not, but I’m nicer than you,” Osamu shot back before inhaling. “Like I said, rule one is don’t hurt my friends. I’ve got three-”

“Yeah I know, the weird haired one, the brunette, and the dark haired one you had a crush on for a while.”

"Shut up and let me finish,” Osamu responded. “But yeah, I’ve known Yukie since we were eight, which you know, so you can basically treat her like a sister. She’s kinda touchy, and she’ll act like what’s yours is hers, so feel free to take stuff from her if she takes stuff from you. Bokuto’s energetic and a softie. If you had to pick one to be the nicest to, it’s him cause he’ll break down if you're mean, ok? And Akaashi's gonna be the biggest hurdle. We have class together, and he always notices when I'm acting weird. He’s gonna ask you what's up and you're gonna have to lie,” Osamu explained as he started rummaging around in the kitchen. “What the hell, do you seriously only have leftovers and protein bars?” he asked, and heard Atsumu scoff.

“No. You must’ve missed the fruit on the counter.”

Osamu groaned. Of course he’d body swap with someone who had such a sparsely stocked kitchen.

“That all? Be nice to Bokuto, steal Yukie’s stuff, and lie to Akaashi? Sounds simple enough. But I was wonderin, why do I have to lie to them? I get not telling your teachers and parents, but wouldn’t telling them make this week easier? Man, this is really good,” Atsumu said, sighing contentedly at the end.

“That’s not everything, but it should be enough to get you until lunch. And you can't just tell ‘em because between Bokuto and Yukie, the whole school’d know before first period was over. Wait a minute, you bastard! You're eating the oats I made, aren’t you!?”

Atsumu laughed. “Well what else was I supposed to eat with so little time till I gotta get your body to school?”

“I’m gonna end you when we switch back! That was supposed to be mine!”

“Well technically, you still ate it, now didn’t ya, ‘Samu?” Atsumu responded smugly.

“I hate you so much right now,” Osamu grumbled as he bit into a protein bar, not even able to pretend it tasted half as good as what Atsumu had gotten.

“Oh, I know,” Atsumu shrugged.

“...What time do I need to leave?”

“Seven thirty, since it’s Monday. Now, where’s your uniform? It’s almost seven twenty.”

Osamu cursed quietly as he shoved the rest of the protein bar into his mouth.

“It’s hanging up in my closet, you can’t miss it. Where’s yours?”

“Top drawer of the dresser with the cat bed on it,” Atsumu responded as Osamu hurried back into Atsumu’s room.

“Ugh, this shade of blue sucks,” Atsumu muttered, breaking the near silence they’d been in as they quickly dressed, and Osamu sighed.

“Just deal with it. Like I have to deal with this weird ass blond hair,” he responded as stepped into the bathroom with the uniform over his shoulder, glancing at the reflection in the mirror.

“Hey, you knew I dyed it. You even suggested blond.”

“Yeah, cause I thought it’d look weird. And I was right,” Osamu retorted as he started dressing, forcing his eyes away from the mirror. He realized his hands were shaking slightly as he buttoned his shirt.

Well, they weren't really his hands, now were they?

“Stop being an ass and calm down. We’re gonna switch back soon,” Atsumu stated, breaking into Osamu’s thoughts, and he took a deep breath. Atsumu was right. And besides, if you had to body swap with someone else, wasn’t someone who was maybe genetically identical to you the best option?

He took another deep breath, adjusted his tie without looking at any other part of his reflection, and then slipped out of the bathroom.

“Alright, I’m wearin your uniform. Where’s your school bag and volleyball stuff?” he asked.

“School bags by the desk, volleyball bags by my bed. Yours?”

“Should be beside my night stand.”

“Got it. Do I need anything else? What's for lunch?”

“Just grab one of the bento’s out of the fridge. I usually make a few over the weekend for the beginning of the week. And make sure to wear my bracelet, Akaashi’ll definitely notice if you don’t.”

“Yeah. Ok, got it. Now, where am I going?” Atsumu asked as Osamu put the backpack on and slung the duffle bag over his shoulder.

“You’re goin downstairs, takin a right and walkin for four blocks. Take a left and you’ll be at the train station. Take it for two stops, then get off and follow the school crowd.” Osamu responded as he headed out of Atsumu’s room. “Now where am I goin?”

“Outside, take a right until the light. Then another right until you hit the bus stop. Take the bus, then get off after three stops and go left till you hit the school. But, there’s one more thing I need you to do. Say goodbye to Kuro for me.”

“What.”

“Tell him goodbye,”Atsumu repeated seriously. “I always tell him goodbye and give him a head scratch before I leave.”

Osamu groaned as he reached the living room, seeing Kuro dozing on his cat tower. “Do I have to? I swear this cat hates you."

“Hey! Yes, you do. And no, he doesn’t. Maybe you're just being mean to him n’handling him wrong,” Atsumu shot back, and Osamu sighed, remembering the promises.

They needed to keep those.

They needed to trust each other.

He strode across the room and gently ran his hand down Kuro’s back, the cat stirring before staring at him skeptically. He shook his head.

“‘Tsumu says bye,” he stated, gently scratching the top of the cat's head. Kuro actually leaned into it, and Osamu blinked in surprise. But the moment was shattered as fast as it had arrived, Kuro substituting the pressing for a quick bite onto Osamu’s hand, though it was too light to even hurt. “Fine, fine. I know a warning when I see one,” Osamu said, holding his hands up and backing away for a few steps before turning and striding to the door.

“Did you tell him?”

“I told him, ok? Geez. I swear, you care about that cat more than anything."

“Good. And don’t forget my keys, they should be on the table by the door.”

"I see em, I see em," Osamu grumbled as he grabbed the keys and stuffed them into his pocket. “And don’t lose mine. They’re in my backpack, the front pocket,” Osamu added as he slipped the shoes that were sitting by the door on.

He hesitated as he stood, hand on the doorknob, and could feel Atsumu doing the same.

“We didn’t forget anything, did we?” Atsumu asked. And Osamu recognised that tone.

Scared but resigned.

Unhappy but committed.

“No. we didn’t. On three?” Osamu responded, knowing his tone was much the same.

“On three.”

“One."

“Two.”

“Three.”

Chapter Text

Atsumu had been to Tokyo before. He had. This wasn’t scary. He had done it before. He repeated those phrases to himself over and over as he walked down the street, nearly white knuckling the straps of Osamu’s backpack.

I’ve done this before.

This isn’t scary.

I’m not scared.

He figured if he said it enough times, it just might become true.

“We both know that isn’t how this works,” Osamu snorted.

“Shut up. You cope your way and I’ll cope mine. Don’t think I haven’t caught those thoughts about knives. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were planning a murder, not fantasizing about making dinner,” Atsumu retorted.

“I wouldn’t give a shit if your way wasn’t so distracting.”

“Oh, and yours isn't?”

“Not as bad as yours.”

“Well-” Atsumu took a deep breath, and rubbed his forehead. As weird as it felt to be the one saying this, now really wasn’t the time for them to squabble. “Well, we can’t afford to keep at each other's throats. So let's just…”

“Block each other out? If you haven’t noticed, that doesn’t exactly work anymore.”

“I’m well aware, but do you have a better idea?”

“...No,” Osamu admitted, and Atsumu could feel the tension, the combativeness, soften. “I mean, we’ve both already tried, right? What else do we do?”

“Let me try one more thing.”

Atsumu took a deep breath, and brushed his right thumb over the bracelet on his left wrist as he did his best to tune out, to pull away from Osamu.

Surprising no one more than himself, it worked.

Osamu’s presence dimmed, shifting from a dull roar to a soft murmur.

“Did that just work?” Osamu asked, and his voice sounded like it was coming from the next room over instead of right beside Atsumu.

“Yeah.” Atsumu relaxed a little. “Yeah, it worked. No clue why, but…”

“I don’t care, I’ll take it. Now we just have to make sure it stays like this during class.”

“It better. You already made me promise to not get you behind, so you better let me take your notes in peace,” Atsumu responded. “Just, make sure to tune in for lunch unless you want me unsupervised around your friends.”

“Hell no. In fact, ping me whenever any of those three enter your field of vision.”

“Noted. And, your lunch doesn’t overlap with mine, does it?”

“Not completely. Fukorodani takes lunch from eleven thirty to twelve thirty.”

“And Inarizaki’s runs from twelve to one,” Atsumu filled in as the train station came into view. “Hey, do you have a-”

“My train card’s in my wallet. Front pocket of my backpack,” Osamu interrupted. “Your bus is here. I’m gonna go. Ping me if you need me, alright?”

“Yeah, course,” Atsumu nodded, tuning him out. He was still closer than normal, but it was much more bearable than earlier.

Usually, in the past, when Osamu tuned out, Atsumu couldn’t hear him at all, and if he focused, he could feel him, or sense him somehow. Like Osamu and his thoughts were faint static on a radio in the next room over, but inside Atsumu’s brain.

But now, he could hear him. It was vague, indistinct for sure, but there. Like the door to the room the radio was in was open and it had been turned up a bit. But, it was better than earlier, at least, so Atsumu just shook his head as he twisted Osamu’s backpack around and dug his wallet out.

A few moments later, Atsumu was standing on the train, one hand firmly gripping a rail, the other still clutching one of the backpack straps.

Sure, Atsumu was no stranger to crowds by any means, but this, being in such a small space, with so, so many others, on top of everything else this morning, was very, very, nearly too much.

So Atsumu found himself focusing on blue.

It was never a color he’d really thought or cared much about one way or the other, until now. He decided he didn’t like it. Especially the pale blue on his tie. But he searched it out, he found it, and he watched it like a hawk.

At least that was a perk of it, it was easy to spot on the subway. And with Atsumu’s only directions to get to the school from the train station being ‘follow the school crowd’ he didn’t really feel like waiting until the last second to locate some Fukurodani uniform wearers to tail.

The train slowed to a stop, and the other students in Fukurodani uniforms began disembarking. Atsumu followed suit, tugging his backpack tight against himself as he did his best to stay close enough to the crowd to be considered part of it and far enough away to avoid suspicion from anyone within it.

The last thing he felt like dealing with was some random stranger trying to drag him into a conversation where he had to be Osamu. Hell, he didn’t even want to have to talk to Osamu’s friends, but a promise was a promise.

The next thing Atsumu knew, he was standing inside the gates of Fukurodani high school and really, really regretting teasing Osamu two years ago when he had pinged Atsumu in near panic, saying he didn’t know if he could do it, that it was so big and there were so many people. Atsumu had laughed and told him to just dive in head first. He shouldn’t be scared, was he a baby?

He made a mental note to…not exactly apologize, but maybe something kind of like it, once everything was back to normal, and took a deep breath.

“‘Samu. I’m outside the school. Where do I go?”

“For the sixth time, class 2-A. It’s at the end of the left corridor on the second floor. Let me know when you get close, cause Akaashi’ll probably already be there.”

“He’s the only one in your class I gotta worry about, right?”

“Right. Yukie’s not in my class, but she’ll find you for lunch, there's no escaping her, and sometimes Bokuto’ll swing by too. If he does, it’ll be with Akaashi,” Osamu said as Atsumu made his way across the grounds, towards the building. “And I’m headed to 2-B, direct left from the stairwell, second floor, right?”

“Right. You're still on the bus though, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. There’s only like three other people on it for Inarizaki though.”

“Yeah. I take that one because I have to deal with less people.”

Osamu snorted. “Less people? I thought you were an attention hog and then some, the way you talk about the applause and crowds at games.”

“That’s different,” Atsumu responded firmly.

How did you explain the difference between being heard and being listened to? The difference between being watched and being seen? Because there was a difference, and Atsumu knew which one he preferred.

“Ok. Ok, sore spot,” Osamu noted, pulling back a little, like he was stepping away from the topic. “And, practice starts as soon as class lets out, right?”

“Pretty much. You don’t have to sprint to the gym, but don’t waste any time either,” Atsumu confirmed as he strode inside the school, doing his best to focus on Osamu’s voice instead of the crowds around him.

And the blue.

Yeah.

Atsumu didn’t really like blue.

“Ok. You to the classroom yet?”

“Not yet. I already said I’d tell you. I’m on the stairs.”

“Oh! Look up and to your left.” Atsumu did, and was greeted with a large, cartoon style owl painted on the wall of the stairwell.

“Well damn. This school likes its mascot,” he muttered as he continued.

“I know right? Oh, and when it’s lunch time, you should go out to the back courtyard, there’s this huge-”

“‘Samu, I love this, really, but I just got to your classroom, and have an incoming Mr Crush-” Atsumu interrupted, seeing those same green eyes Osamu had absently fantasized about for weeks, his thoughts nudging their way into Atsumu’s, as Akaashi tilted his head towards Atsumu, pushing off of the desk he’d been leaning on and heading towards Atsumu.

“His name is Akaashi, and I’m over that. But is he coming over?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. He’s gonna ask you how your weekend was. You're gonna tell him, verbatim, ‘It was fine. Lotta work and a little sleep, though.’ Ok?”

“Ok, Ok, got it,” Atsumu responded as Akaashi arrived in front of him, inclining his head slightly.

“You’re later than normal today. How was your weekend?” he asked.

“It was fine,” Atsumu started, trying to match Akaashi’s tone. “Lotta work and a little sleep, though,” he recited, and Akaashi’s expression stayed neutral as he nodded a bit.

“I see. You did have work, and this weekend is that big event, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s he sayin?” Osamu butted in, and Atsumu had to force himself to not twitch.

“He just asked about the big event bein this weekend and I said ‘yeah’, now calm down, I can’t focus on him and you at the same time.”

“Well you be better figure out how to, or-”

“‘Samu, if you keep talking, I’m just gonna miss more of whatever he’s saying,” Atsumu pointed out before trying to push Osamu to the side

“-still the plan, right?” Akaashi finished as Atsumu tuned back into his words, Akaashi looking at him, brow drawn and eyebrows raised in a way that could only be described as expectant.

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” Atsumu all but blurted out, hoping that had been something he was supposed to agree to and that Akaashi wouldn’t be asking any follow up questions about it.

Akaashi’s expression drew up further, almost into concern, but then melted into a light smile as he shook his head.

“Thank you. I knew I could count on you. But try to get some sleep tonight, alright?”

“Yeah, of course,” Atsumu repeated, and then the bell was ringing, sending Akaashi back towards his desk as the teacher entered the room.
“‘Samu, where do I sit?”

“Two seats behind Akaashi. Did he say anything else?”

“Well-” Atsumu started, but then Osamu was lightly cursing.

“Shit. the bell just rang for me too. Where am I sitting?”

“Third row, fourth column.”

“Ok. Good luck. I’ll tune back in when lunch starts, but you can ping me before then if you really need to.”

“Same goes for you. Good luck,” Atsumu responded as he settled himself in the indicated seat, the teacher getting everyone's attention as the roll call started.

And yeah, the room wasn’t the same, and the people weren’t the same, but it was still class. Atsumu had been to class before, way, way too many times to count.

This wasn't scary.

Atsumu wasn’t scared.

He focused on those few phrases for most of the morning, in between classwork, and focusing on tuning Osamu out, which seemed to be getting easier as time went on.

This wasn’t scary.

Atsumu wasn’t scared.

-

Once lunch rolled around, it got a little harder to pretend he believed that.

Atsumu had gotten up as quickly as possible, and immediately made his way downstairs, hoping to head for the earlier mentioned back courtyard, but remembering halfway down that he didn’t know where it was, or, for that matter, where he was.

He felt his unease and frustration continuing to rise as he all but wandered the well populated corridors, wanting nothing more than the fresh air, and a volleyball to bounce around like he did when he finished eating early.

Having the threat of Yukie finding him hanging over him wasn’t helping things either.

But, he wasn’t scared, he told himself. Just…an optimal amount of stressed. Enough to keep him on his toes, but not so much that he’d crack.

“‘Samu, did I just catch you muttering?” a voice behind him called, and then an arm had been slung around his shoulder. “What are you doing all the way over here?” Looking over and finding long brown hair and an easy, lazy grin confirmed what he’d suspected.

As promised, Yukie had found him.

“Nothing, I was just,” Atsumu started, before internally cursing. “‘Samu! ‘Samu, Yukie’s here. I got lost trying to go outside and she’s askin what I’m doing, but I don’t even know where I am,” Atsumu tried, Yukie all of a sudden steering Atsumu down the hallway.

“Just…” Yukie prompted. “Well c’mon, don’t leave me hangin like that!” she complained. “Ooo, you were over by the third year classrooms, were you tryin to find Bo? He and Akaashi are already down by the gyms.”

The earlier sense of distance between himself and Osamu suddenly vanished, and Atsumu could’ve sworn he was right beside him.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he said quickly. “What’s she said so far? What’ve you said so far?”

“Like I said, she asked what I was doin. I said nothing, and now she’s takin me somewhere and talkin about Bokuto and Akaashi eating lunch together by the gyms. I think she’s takin me outside?”

“Ok. Ok, good. She is. She really likes the back courtyard that I mentioned earlier, so that’s where you're headed. I’m still in class, and I don’t think even you could tank my relationship with Yukie completely in one lunch period, and before you ask, that is not a challenge, so just remember, treat her like your sister. I gotta go,” Osamu said, and then he was tuning out, and Atsumu was cursing to himself.

That might’ve been great advice, if Atsumu had a sister.

“You ok over there? You’re awful quiet,” Yukie said, breaking out of her own small tangent about the Fukurodani volleyball team.

“Fine,” Atsumu responded. “Just had a long weekend. Didn’t sleep too well.”

“Ah,” Yukie started. “You did work a lot, and you have that catering thing you’re getting ready for, right?”

“Right,” Atsumu said as Yukie finally broke away from him, shoving a door open, leading him outside into a large courtyard, several people sitting around, on benches or under the few trees, talking and eating.

“Well, I know whatever you come up with’s gonna be delicious!” she declared as she dropped down on a nearby bench, Atsumu following suit and digging out his lunch. “Has your dad said if he’s gonna let you go?” Atsumu shook his head, grateful, for once, that Osamu had talked about an upcoming event so much over the past few weeks. "That sucks,” Yukie sighed as she opened up her lunch. “Are you gonna ask again?”

Again?

Ok. So, maybe Osamu hadn’t talked about it quite as much as Atsumu had thought.

“Probably,” Atsumu shrugged.

“Good,” Yukie said as she reached over Atsumu, grabbing an onigiri out of his bento and biting into it. “You deserve it. You hardworking little-” she muttered, almost angrily, the last few words being completely muffled by the rice.

Atsumu blinked, slightly unsure of what to do. It had been so casual, he had to figure the food theft was normal for her. So, Atsumu decided to assume, sisters and food theft went hand in hand.

Atsumu could manage that.

He glanced into her bento and did a few quick mental calculations before snagging a piece of food he knew Osamu liked. Yukie barely even looked up from her (Atsumu’s) onigiri as she swallowed, and sighed.

“I swear, I’ll never understand how yours are so much better than any others.”

Atsumu just shrugged as he bit into the food he’d taken. It was ok. It made him miss the ones he and his mom would get from the restaurant they always went to after volleyball games.

When she had still been around enough to go to his games.

Yukie dug around a bit more, and stole a few more things out of Atsumu’s lunch quietly. Atsumu felt like he was supposed to say something, but all he could do was remember those days, years ago, and so he simply opted to keep his mouth full and chew slowly.

“Hey, do you wanna come over today?” Yukie asked, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

“No,” Atsumu responded immediately. “I-I mean, I’m busy. After school. Today,” he tried to cover.

“Ok, if you say so. Just, try to not overwork yourself ok? Wait! We have almost half an hour of lunch left, you’re taking a nap right now! Lay down,” Yukie ordered, and Atsumu blinked as she tugged on his sleeve. He had to fight down the urge to shove her off, figuring Osamu wouldn’t, and the next thing he knew, he was stretched out across the bench, his legs in Yukie’s lap, her blazer wadded up under his head for a pillow, his own taken off and draped over himself for a blanket.

“Ok,” Osamu said as he tuned in. “I’m here, we just got out for lunch. What’s goin on? Are you doin ok?”

“She’s making me take a nap.”

“Oh. Yeah, she does that sometimes. You’re not gettin out of it. Free nap though, right? It’s pretty nice.”

“She does this regularly?”

“Only as regularly as her friends need naps. Now, who do you usually eat lunch with?”

“I usually take it down to the gym.”

“Ok. Was class alright?”

“Fine. It’s gonna be the easiest part of this whole thing.”

“You have college level classes after lunch.”

“...’Samu, have I ever told you I hate the decisions you make?”

“Everyday, ‘Tsumu. Now, I don’t think Yukie had a bad idea. Extra sleep’ll never hurt. Especially since you have to help me get through volleyball practice in a few hours,” Osamu pointed out, and Atsumu groaned.

“Fine. Am I heading straight home from school the same way I got here when we get out?”

“Yup. If any of my friends wanna go with you, politely, keyword here being politely, turn them down.”

“‘Samu, when am I anything but polite?”

“You really want me to answer that question, ‘Tsumu?”

Atsumu bit back a laugh. “Nah. I guess I don’t,” he shrugged with a small smile, tuning Osamu out a bit.

It didn’t take long for his eyes to become heavy and his awareness to start to dim, Yukie on her phone at his feet, his thoughts drifting to friends and parents and conversation.

He wasn’t sure why Osamu always seemed so keyed up. It seemed like he had it pretty good, if this morning had been any indication.

He drifted off with bittersweet memories of being younger slipping through his awareness, each one too fast to really hold, staying just long enough to twinge the familiar, hollow feeling in his chest.

---

The first time it happened was on the way back from lunch.

Osamu had been heading back towards the school building after throwing his trash from lunch away when he thought he heard people whispering. He had glanced towards it, finding a small group of people, two or three girls, and two or three boys, all looking towards him, stifling giggles. They had yelped when he saw them, and hurried on their way, whispering starting back up as they headed away from Osamu. He hadn’t really known what to think about it, but the bell was already ringing, so he had just hurried back to class, writing it off.

Or, he had until just now, as it started happening again.

He couldn’t help glancing towards the whispers from several of the small groups as he passed them, them all glancing at him and then quickly looking away.

“Hey. Is your dad gonna be home when I get back?” Atsumu asked suddenly, breaking into Osamu’s thoughts. Osamu shook his head, focusing in.

“No. He shouldn’t get back till later, so you should have a few hours to get your school work done.”

“Alright. You on the way to practice?”

“Course. Where the hell else would I be?” Osamu shot back. “And why the hell’s everyone starin at you?”

“Starin at me?”

“Yeah. Buncha people lookin at you, laughin, and then lookin away when I look at ‘em.”

Atsumu groaned. “Just ignore ‘em.”

“Why? What's the deal with ‘em?”

“Nothin. They're just the annoyin people who scream every time I hit a serve.”

“...’Tsumu, these are your...fans?” Osamu asked, blinking.

He knew Atsumu had mentioned something like this in the past, but Osamu had halfway thought he was making it up.

“Somethin like that,” Atsumu shrugged. “Just don't talk to ‘em or you're gonna be late for practice.”

“I’m already almost to the gym, I’m not gonna be late. But you should be nice to the people who look up to you, jackass. Do you normally just ignore ‘em all?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu snorted. “Why should I be? They don’t look up to me, they look up to the result of work they’d rather not do themselves,” he scoffed. “I’m not what they care about, so why should I care about them?”

“Calm down, I’m not sayin you have to be best friends with all of ‘em. Just don’t be a downright asshole to ‘em all the time.”

“It’s not like I mess with ‘em or tease ‘em or anything, ‘Samu. I do have some shred of decency, ok?” Atsumu huffed.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Osamu muttered as he shoved the door to the gym open.

Atsumu replied, Osamu was sure, but Osamu was suddenly somewhere else, his memories slamming into him almost hard enough to make him lose his balance as the familiar sounds and scents of a volleyball gym during practice washed over him.

All he could do, for a short moment, was remember.

Remember starting volleyball in elementary school, and ending up goading Atsumu into it, talking about how Atsumu would probably never get anywhere with it.

Remember the soreness, the frustration, and the tears.

Remember the satisfaction, the elation, and the tears.

Remember having Atsumu cheering him on, and cheering Atsumu on, spending hours and hours talking technique and playstyle with him, despite never having seen each other and not being able to play or practice together. It was the first real thing they substantially bonded over, Osamu realized.

“-than you!” Atsumu finally finished his little tirade, and Osamu shook his head.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I’m in the gym,” Osamu responded as he stepped inside, the memories receding as he glanced around and was pleasantly surprised to find that he recognised most of Atsumu’s teammates, despite having never seen them.

Like right there, still wearing a track jack, phone in hand as he stretched, had to be Suna Rintaro. Or over there, chatting as they returned to the court from the locker rooms, had to be Aran and Akagi. And right there, next to the coach, staring directly at Osamu, had to be-

“Hey, why’s your captain lookin at me weird?” Osamu asked as he adjusted his grip on his bags and strode towards the locker room as naturally as he could, feeling Kita’s gaze on his back.

“Fuck!” Atsumu yelped. “Shit, Friday. Ok. Ok, you have to avoid him. You’re not in trouble, so coach won’t say anything, just, make sure to stay away from Kita at all costs.”

“What? He’s your captain, how the hell am I supposed to avoid him for a whole week? What the hell did you do?” Osamu shot back.

“I didn’t do anything!” Atsumu snapped. “I, ‘Samu, I’m sorry, but I need you to do this for me. Please.”

Osamu blinked, almost stumbling into the locker room.

Atsumu never said please.

Not to Osamu.

Whatever the hell happened last week, it couldn’t have been good.

“Ok, ok. I’ll do my best,” Osamu grumbled as he started changing clothes. “But you owe me for this.”

“I’ll do your English homework for a month if you make good on this,” Atsumu promised.

“You know, what? I’m gonna hold you to that,” Osamu said, letting himself grin a bit as he quickly slipped the volleyball shoes on and laced them up.

“I’m good for it if you are. Small talk if he corners you is fine, but nothin else.”

“Yeah, I know,” Osamu responded, and then, hearing the door open, glanced up.

His face paled when he was greeted by Kita standing in the doorway.

Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as Osamu had hoped.

“Atsumu-” Kita started, and Osamu hoped he didn’t look as terrified as he felt. Before he could say more, through, Osamu heard their coach call for him from the courts, and he sighed, shaking his head. “I apologize. Let me deal with this first,” he said, and then he was striding out of the locker room. Osamu breathed a sigh of relief as he stood, shoving his bags where they belonged before following suit and heading back out into the gym.

“You still there?” Osamu asked internally as he rolled his shoulders a few times and flexed his fingers, trying to remember how setting felt.

“Where the hell else would I be?”

“Shut up. We’re about to get started.”

“Cool. You want a medal?”

“No, jackass. I want instructions. What are we gonna do after warmups? Practice is two and a half hours, right?”

“Yeah. You’ll start with warmups and basic position specific drills for around an hour in total,” Atsumu shrugged. “Then you’ll take a little break, and, depending on the kind of mood coach is in, come back to three on three’s, full on mock matches, or even more rigorous position specific drills for around another hour, and then finish out with serves.”

“That,” Osamu started as he reached the others where they were beginning to form a loose semi circle around Kita and the coach. “Was actually really helpful and thorough. Thanks.”

Atsumu snorted. “Course it was. Good luck. I’m gonna go. I’m just now gettin on your train, so I’m gonna start on this boring ass reading you got assigned. Ping me if you need to.”

“Yup,” Osamu had barely said before he felt Atsumu retreating, and was left as close to on his own as possible as the coach began talking.

“Alright. You know the drill. Go get warmed up and then get the carts out,” he called, getting a hearty ‘yes sir’ in response as they all moved out towards the edges of the gym.

At least Osamu knew this.

Atsumu had complained about this warmup enough that Osamu knew it forward and backwards. It almost felt like he’d done it before, he mused as he began jogging. After a moment, he realized it was because this body had done this warm up dozens and dozens of times.

He wasn’t quite sure if the thought was comforting or unnerving.

But, if Atsumu’s body knew what it was doing, Osamu just had to follow its lead, and he decided to focus on that.

And it worked for the first hour, surprising no one more than Osamu. He had managed even, stable receives, and passable sets, somehow not even fumbling one. Of course, none of them had been amazing, but it was early in practice, and no one commented on them outside of the standard ‘nice set’ ‘nice kill’. He was actually managing to keep his head above water, and without Atsumu’s help, even. Osamu was thinking all this over as he dropped down onto the bleachers, water in hand, and wiped his forehead, an hour and a half to go. He could manage that.

And then he’d have to feed Atsumu’s damn cat when he got home, he remembered, face scrunching up slightly as he looked out over the gym, finding everyone sitting and laying around, except for Kita, who was talking with their coach, nodding, water in hand. Osamu looked away, not wanting to test his luck with accidental eye contact.

He had to admit, he wasn’t really sure what the hell could’ve happened between them.

Kita didn’t seem the type, from what Atsumu’d mentioned of him, to do anything drastic or cruel, no matter what ridiculous thing Atsumu must’ve done on Friday. He didn’t seem rude, or aggressive, but maybe… maybe cold?

Or maybe blunt was a better word.

But then again, that could be said about Atsumu, and there was that saying about birds of a feather and all that, and who knows, maybe Atsumu had just done something a little too direct or maybe embarrassing. Osamu shook his head. It didn’t really matter.

Osamu didn’t need to know anything about Kita except how to avoid him.

Naturally, the second he had that thought, Kita was nodding to their coach, and then striding away from him, eyes briefly scanning the gym before settling on Osamu.

Fuck.

Kita started heading towards him.

Double fuck.

Would just straight up running be a possibility, Osamu vaguely wondered before quickly ruling it out. He still had to deal with this for four more days after today. He couldn’t draw that much suspicion this early.

“Atsumu, I-” Kita started when he was a few paces away.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Osamu announced, standing up quickly, all but slamming his water bottle down on the bleachers before practically bolting towards the gym bathrooms, wincing.

Well, maybe there had been a more awkward way to get away from Kita, but Osamu doubted it.

“‘Samu, what was that?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“I can feel how embarrassed you are. What happened? You didn’t-”

“I didn’t talk to Kita,” Osamu snapped. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. We’re almost off break anyway. How’s my homework goin?” Atsumu groaned as the bathroom door fell shut behind Osamu.

“Slowly and painfully. Why the hell are you takin these advanced classes anyway?”

“Because dad.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Ugh, don’t sound all apologetic, it’s weird, just, do what you can, and I’ll help you finish up once practice is done.”

“Fine, fine,” Atsumu huffed, tuning out, and Osamu let himself take a deep breath as he leaned back against a sink and hoped it wouldn’t be for too long.

It wasn’t, fortunately, and about five minutes later, Osamu heard the whistle blow, and eased out of the bathroom, just in time to jog over and join the crowd as it formed a loose semicircle around Kita and the coach again.

“Alright, it’s three on three’s today,” the coach started, and Osamu winced. Well, that was a little better than a full mock game, but still, he was so out of practice that either was bound to end poorly.

He was proven right, and it didn’t take very long.

The first match ups had just played to ten points. Osamu, Aran, and Akagi, had been up against Gin, Suna, and Kita. It had gone fine. Osamu had almost tripped over his feet a time or two, but it hadn’t been all that bad, and he’d even managed to get his sets to almost the right spots, even if their side lost by a few points.

But now the teams had been mixed up, and they were playing to a higher point count, and Osamu was starting to remember how hard volleyball was when you weren’t in practice. He managed to keep up for the first eight or nine serves before finding himself slipping. His feet didn’t know where to go, and his mind felt so scattered he wasn’t even sure where to tell them to.

But another serve was up and he needed to be moving, he knew that much. The net, that was right. He needed to be by the net. He managed to get into position, just barely, hands raising as he saw the ball approaching.

And then, something really weird happened. It was like Atsumu’s body took over, and Osamu blamed it on muscle memory and his own tension and exhaustion.

He jumped.

It wasn’t much, really not even as high as a jump set should be, but his feet were off the ground, and the second it happened, Osamu knew it had been a mistake.

That was confirmed about a second later, when Osamu felt the ball connect solidly with his face, his hands having moved as he panicked about jumping, leaving his face more than slightly open.

The bouncing of the volleyball as it hit the floor in the otherwise suddenly deathly quiet gym was just salt in the wound as Osamu’s hands came up to his face.

Of course, the deathly quiet became preferable just a moment later, when it was shattered by a laugh.

And then another.

And then another.

“Dude, are you good?” someone asked, a few more voices pitching in and mixing with the poorly stifled giggles. Osamu felt his face start heating up even further, and a different voice cut through the noise, low, soft, and incredibly close.

“Are you alright?” Kita asked as he gently touched Osamu’s shoulder, making him flinch.

“I’m fine,” Osamu managed, barely pulling his hands away from his face, confirming they were blood free. He put them right back once he had.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” the coach called. “Settle down everyone! Kita, you can go back to your side, Miya, come sit down for a few minutes,” he called firmly, but the hand on Osamu’s arm didn’t leave until it had gently guided him to the edge of the court.

Osamu finally took his head out of his hands as he dropped down onto the bench, near the coach, and watched as another player was put in, a first year, who’s three on three match had already finished.

“You feeling ok today?” the coach asked after a beat, and Osamu blinked.

“I am. Is there a reason you ask?” he returned, hoping this was how Atsumu treated most adults around him. Not overly formal, but with less of his trademark bluntness. The coach sighed.

“Because you just got hit in the face on a set you should’ve been able to make with your eyes closed,” he stated, and Osamu winced, lightly touching his already sore nose.

“I’m… a little tired, I guess. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. But I’m not putting you back in until serves. And that looks pretty red. Why don’t you go grab an ice pack for it while these three on three's finish up?”

“Yes sir. I’ll be right back,” Osamu said as he stood.

“Hey, ‘Tsumu,” he started, pinging him. “Where’s the first aid stuff?”

“Huh? First aid stuff’s in the locker room, there's an unassigned locker that’s filled with it. Wait, what happened?! Did you-”

“Nothing!” Osamu interrupted quickly. “I just… need an ice pack.”

“An ice pack.”

“Yeah.”

“‘Samu,” Atsumu started, voice tinged with something suspiciously close to amusement “Did you get hit in the face?”

Osamu groaned. “Well, I-”

“Oh my god you totally did!” Atsumu laughed as Osamu entered the locker room. “Was it a block? Oh, wait, no, I bet you missed a set!” he continued, Osamu being able to tell he was nearly doubled over at Osamu’s desk. “That’s hilari-” Atsumu stopped suddenly, and Osamu couldn’t help smiling.

In three, two, one-

“Wait a minute, you're in my body! How bad is it, are you bleedin?”

“Gee, thanks for the concern, jackass,” Osamu snorted as he opened the indicated locker. “It's not bad. There’s no blood, and it isn’t broken. Worst case scenario, I wake up in the morning with a bruise,” Osamu shrugged. “Your coach just wanted me to ice it before we started serves,” Osamu explained as he pressed the cold compress to his face.

“Good. You better not miss any more sets though, ok? I don’t wanna get my body back lookin much different from the last time I saw it.”

“Believe it or not, my goal wasn’t to get hit in the face in front of your entire team, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu deadpanned as he headed back towards the bench, dropping down next to the coach again.

“Yeah, yeah, was that all you needed? Can I get back to your homework?”

“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and get outta my head.”

“God, I wish I could,” Atsumu snorted before tuning out as much as possible, and Osamu rolled his eyes.

At least serving was something he felt decent about and doubted he’d make a fool of himself during.

And sure enough, around fifty minutes later, as they wrapped up serving, Osamu had managed to stay under the radar, though, still feeling Kita’s gaze on him every now and then. He hurried into the locker room as soon as the coach blew his whistle and called that they were done for the day, changing as quickly as he could. He finished, and then made a beeline to the coach, lightly touching his face as he approached.

“Sir, I’m sorry. Can I go ahead and head home? My face-” he started, and the coach waved his hand dismissively.

“Sure. Go home and keep the ice on that,” he said. “Just make sure to be here on time in the morning or you’re running extra laps, even if your nose is purple.”

“Yes sir, thank you sir,” Osamu said, quickly bowing, before all but sprinting out of the gym, Kita’s gaze on his back.

Well, that was one practice down. Seven more to go.

---

Atsumu rubbed his eyes as he collapsed onto the bed.

Finally.

“Did you just finish my homework?”

“Yeah,” Atsumu groaned. “That was ridiculous. I can’t believe you take classes like that. I have to do this for a full week?”

“Oh shut up, you're not even the one holdin an ice pack to his face, are you?”

“Well, whose fault is that?”

“Shut up, bastard,” Osamu grumbled, but with a lot less bite than Atsumu was accustomed to. He sighed.

“Fine. I will if you get Kuro his dinner.”

“That’s right, I have to feed your demon,” Osamu groaned.

“He’s not-”

“Fine, fine, your perfect little angel, I’ll go get his dinner.”

“Good. It’s the same as his breakfast.”

They lapsed into silence as Atsumu yawned, hardly able to believe it was only eight o clock, and he was legitimately tired. God he couldn’t wait to have his own body back. Osamu’s apartment was tiny and his hair was this weird gray and his bed was too hard and his blanket was too thin.

“Hey,” Osamu started. “Kuro’s eatin, but, I was wonderin, what the hell happened with Kita last week?”

Atsumu’s stomach dropped and his face paled, but he forced any specific thoughts out of his mind.

They weren’t having this conversation right now.

“I already told you, nothin.”

“Nothin.”

“Nothin.”

“You suck at lying. Why won’t you just tell me?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“Because I need some fuckin form of privacy Osamu!” Atsumu snapped. “Something you don’t know about. For my own goddamn sanity, alright? I know you have things you don’t tell me, so don’t act like it’s weird,” he added with a huff.

He loved Osamu, really.

But being in each other's heads was exhausting, and not always pleasant.

“...Ok,” Osamu said, small and serious, before clearing his throat. “So, uh…what time do I have to leave for morning practice?”

Atsumu exhaled slowly, trying to let the tension drain out of his body. “Five fourty. Your alarm should be set for five. You’ll get up, go for a run, grab your school bags, feed Kuro, and leave for practice. You should be there by six, and it’ll run till about seven thirty so everyone has time to change before class starts at eight.”

“Oh god, that’s right. You're a morning run person. I never thought I could hate you more for that, but here I am,” Osamu complained, and Atsumu snorted.

“Yup. My mom hasn’t texted me, has she?”

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit what?” Atsumu asked, sitting up. “‘Samu, oh shit what? What’s-”

“Your phone. I totally forgot about it. Give me a second,” Osamu responded, and Atsumu blinked.

“I forgot about yours too.”

“Good,” Osamu scoffed. “You better not touch it. But I found yours, uhh… I don’t see any missed calls or messages, just-Oh my god. That’s a Neko Atsume notification.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And you’re a huge fuckin nerd.”

“Says the one taking all advanced classes.”

“Trust me, this makes you more of a nerd than me.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, I almost forgot, you have to go to work tomorrow.”

“I do?”

“Yeah. And before you ask, you can’t call out if you're not actually sick or something. You need to really be on my stepmom's good side when you ask about the trip, so you can’t be callin out the whole week beforehand,” he explained. “It’s easy though, and Tuesday’s aren't busy. You don’t go in until four thirty, so I should be able to help for most of your shift.”

“I never thought I could hate you more for having a job, but here I am,” Atsumu groaned.

“Pfft, it’ll be fine you big baby. I don’t think even you could screw it up. You just have to run food and make appetizers. And, wait until the end of your shift, but try to ask my stepmom about the trip tomorrow. The sooner you ask, the better.”

“Fine. And the same goes for my mom. The first time she calls you, you gotta ask, or it’s not happening,” Atsumu responded.

His mom wasn’t big on surprises, so springing that question on her on Thursday or Friday, would not end well.

“Ok. Speakin of parents, has my dad got home yet?”

“Yeah. I was in your room and he knocked on the door and asked about dinner and if I planned on cooking. I told him I’d already eaten and was workin on homework. He was like ‘oh. Nice. I’ll let ya do that’ and left. I’ve been in your room since and he hasn’t tried to talk to me anymore,” Atsumu shrugged.

“Yeah, ok, that seems about right.” Osamu admitted.

After a long beat of silence, in which Atsumu almost started to drift off, he spoke again.

“Do you…think this is actually gonna work? Us switching back, I mean,” he asked, voicing the nagging fear that already made itself at home in the back of Atsumus mind as well.

“Yes,” Atsumu stated. “It’ll work. It has to work. Besides, we got through today, we can handle this. It’ll be easy.”

“Sure. You just gotta make sure you handle work tomorrow, Thursday, and Friday, and Akaashi and Yukie all week,” Osamu rattled off, and Atsumu groaned.

“Yeah. and you just gotta take care of Kuro, make sure you go to practice everyday, and play in the practice game on Thursday afternoon and avoid Kita the whole week,” he returned.

“Yeah,” Osamu said, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. Just until the weekend,” he muttered.

“Just until the weekend,” Atsumu agreed as he yawned, reaching out for a pillow.

“Hey, no. I can tell you’re fallin asleep. Go brush my teeth at least,” Osamu complained, and Atsumu groaned as he forced himself out of bed.

He grabbed the clothes he had woken up in, and padded into the bathroom. He glanced at the shower as he slipped out of his clothes and contemplated it. After a long moment, he glanced towards the mirror.

And there were his brown eyes, but the hair was gray instead of blond.

And there was his nose, but the small scar on his chin was missing.

And it was him, but it wasn’t.

He wrenched his eyes away from the reflection in front of him as he started tugging on the pajamas. He wasn’t that dirty yet, he could put off the shower until the morning at least. He grabbed the toothbrush once he was dressed, and winced a moment later.

And there was the same toothpaste Atsumu used, but it didn’t taste like it had last night.

He finished up in the bathroom, feeling a bit more nauseous for having done so, and trudged back to Osamu’s bedroom.

Curiosity, and the desire to focus on something else, got the better of him, and he slipped Osamu’s phone out of his backpack. It was dead, he realized when he tried to open it, which was somewhat disappointing. He plugged it into the charger on the nightstand and decided sleep would be a better distraction anyway.

“...’Samu?” he offered tentatively as he collapsed onto the bed again.

“Yeah? I’m tryin to do your homework so this better be important,” Atsumu hesitated.

What did he even want to say?

That he was still scared?

That he didn’t know how to deal with work tomorrow?

That he was somehow feeling empty and numb and about to explode all at the same time?

“Just… tell Kuro good night for me, will you?” was what he settled on, and Osamu sighed.

“Sure. Now go to bed, ‘Tsumu.”

“I am, but don’t you go stayin up too late either.”

“I can’t hear you. I’m doing homework.”

Atsumu slipped under the covers, trying to ignore how different they felt from his own, and allowed the familiarity of Osamu’s words to lull him into an uneasy sleep.

Chapter Text

Osamu winced against the harsh beeping and still unfamiliar red glow as he slapped towards the alarm clock.

Damn Atsumu for getting up at five AM.

Yet another unfamiliar noise started up just as soon as Osamu managed to get the alarm turned off; an insistent meowing from near the bedroom door, and Osamu groaned.

“Yeah, yeah, give me just a second,” he mumbled as he hauled himself out of bed and stretched. Kuro just meowed again, even louder, and Osamu sighed as he crossed the room and opened the door, following the cat into the kitchen.

It felt odd that the kitchen didn’t feel completely alien, but yesterday evening, after getting home from practice, Osamu had managed to wrangle enough basic ingredients for a simple meal. He had hoped the act would’ve been soothing, but it had just felt…wrong. The plates and bowls and knives were all wrong, and the kitchen wasn’t the same and it was just…wrong.

But, this morning, it felt a little less wrong.

He shook his head as he sat the bowl of cat food on the ground, watching as Kuro happily shoved his face into it, purring as he ate, and Osamu smiled at his enthusiasm. “Ok, maybe we have one thing in common,” he muttered before heading back into Atsumu’s room and glancing around. “Hey, ‘Tsumu, wake up,” Osamu waited a moment, dropping down onto the edge of Atsumu’s bed and rubbing his eyes.

The kitchen felt a little less wrong, sure, but Osamu didn’t.

He took a deep breath, shoving the unsteady feeling that had been nagging him since this time yesterday to the side, and focused on the task at hand.

“‘Tsumu. Wake up!” he repeated as he stood.

Maybe the run would be good, would make him feel a little more…here.

“Wha-?” he heard Atsumu yawn. “What's goin on? Did you feed Kuro?”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the little demon’s had his breakfast. Where’s your running clothes?”

“Mmm, one of my drawers.”

“Yeah, of course, jackass. Which one?”

Atsumu shrugged. “Just look through 'em all. You’ll find ‘em eventually.”

“There’s no way I’m doing that.”

Sharing brainspace was one thing, but having to dig through all of Atsumu’s drawers was asking way too much on top of everything else going on this week.

“Fine, fine. I think...the top drawer of the dresser that Kuro’s bed’s on?”

Osamu crossed the room and cracked the drawer open, finding exactly that, to his relief. “Yup. Thanks. You ready for school?”

“No. I’m still in your bed. You told me I didn’t have to leave till seven.”

“I meant ready to pretend to be me for another day, jackass.”

Atsumu yawned again. “Damn, how the hell is your body so tired at almost six?”

“Cuz normal people don’t get up this early,” Osamu retorted as he quickly changed.

“Least I don’t stay up until midnight thinkin about recipes,” Atsumu shot back as Osamu headed into the living room.

“Whatever. I’m taking your annoying ass body on a run, so give me some peace and quiet.” Atsumu scoffed in return, but obliged, Osamu feeling him tune out as much as he could as he closed the door behind himself, shoving Atsumu’s keys into his pocket.

Osamu drew in a deep breath, taking in his surroundings as he headed towards the park.

It felt like he had fallen into his childhood imagination.

Though, he now realized that was because his ‘childhood imagination’ had largely been influenced by Atsumu’s descriptions of where he lived, the things he did, and the people around him. Osamu shook his head as he headed down to the sidewalk. The context was nice, in a way, but also not really important right now and totally not making Osamu nauseous if he thought about it too much.

Right now, he was going on a run and that was what he needed to think about. He knew where he was going. Use the three block walk to the park to warm up. Three laps through the park at an easy pace, two at a faster one, and a final one just about as fast as he could go. The whole thing broke out to about three miles, Atsumu had told him.

He was dreading it.

But they were in this together, and Osamu needed to keep his end of the deal and his promises to Atsumu. He just hoped Atsumu was doing the same.

He shook his head again.

No.

Atsumu was.

They had to trust each other and work together, or there was no way this nightmare’d ever end.

-

When he finished, Osamu wasn’t sure he’d ever hated himself more for making a promise.

Sure, Atsumu’s body was used to the exercise, which meant it hadn’t felt as bad as Osamu expected. But, because of that, he had pushed harder than he probably should have, managing to find Atsumu’s limits by unintentionally pushing them.

“Don’t bellyache so much, you still got practice, you know,” Atsumu pointed out, popping into Osamu’s head.

“Yeah, yeah I know. But get outta my head until it starts,” Osamu grumbled, not having enough energy to fight Atsumu as he made his way into Atsumu’s bedroom and began grabbing his school and practice bags.

“Fine, just don’t forget to tell Kuro bye for me. And don’t forget to avoid Kita.”

“I won’t, but if you keep buggin me-” Osamu started.

“Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll leave you alone. But, how's your-my, how’s my face?”

Osamu sighed, lightly touching his nose as he approached Kuro, who was dozing on his cat tower. “It’s fine, you probably won’t even notice I got hit by the time we switch back,” Osamu assured as Kuro stirred, blinking up at him. “And you think you can handle Akaashi and Yukie today?”

“Pfft, yeah. Those two are easy. After yesterday and all the stuff you’d told me about ‘em before, I won’t be havin any trouble with ‘em.”

“Bold words. Try not to have to eat ‘em,” Osamu responded as he stuck his hand out and let Kuro sniff it.

“You’re the one obsessed with eating, not me.”

“Shut it, you know what I meant,” Osamu scoffed as he gently scratched the base of Kuro’s ear. “‘Tsumu says bye,” he said, and Kuro pawed at his hand, before sinking his claws into it, and then his teeth. “Fuck!” Osamu yelped as he yanked his hand away.

“The hell was that?”

“Your ‘totally not a demon’ cat just bit me. Again.”

“Well what’d you do to him?!”

“Nothing! I scratched his head!”

“Where? Because he likes the top of his head scratched, but he hates it if you mess with his ears.”

“...Noted,” Osamu grumbled as he made his way to the door, slipping shoes on. “Now get outta my head for real. I’m leaving for school.”

“Good,” Atsumu all but huffed, and Osamu felt him tuning out.

Osamu rolled his eyes. But, Atsumu wasn’t quite the priority right now.

Practice was.

-

Practice went smoothly, and without a word to Kita, for a while.

Until they went on break.

Osamu had almost drained his water bottle, hardly thinking about anything else, when he heard a sharp inhale.

“Miya-Senpai, you’re bleeding,” Riseki said. Osamu blinked, and finally registered the stinging in his hand.

“Ah? Oh, this? It’s-” Osamu started, lowering the hand Kuro had injured. Osamu hadn’t realized it was enough to draw blood as soon as his heart rate increased.

“Bleeding?” Osamu jumped at how close Kita’s voice was as he seemingly materialized next to Osamu.

“No, well, yeah, but I’m fine. It’s nothin-” Osamu tried, but Kita was already grabbing Osamu’s wrist and gently turning his hand over.

Osamu felt his heart rate somehow increase more as he came up empty on a good excuse to get away from him, and Kita sighed.

“You know this isn’t nothing. Ignoring issues doesn’t make them go away,” Kita said, looking from Osamu’s hand to his face. Osamu glanced down to his hand quickly and watched the red seep out of the scratches. “These look like…” Kita frowned as he stared down at them. “Aran, could you get me-” he continued after a moment, looking away from Osamu.

“Here,” Aran said, holding out a small first aid kit.

“Thank you,” Kita responded as he took it, finally letting go of Osamu’s wrist.

“I can handle it,” Osamu tried as Kita began gently wiping the blood away.

Kita didn't even look up as he responded. "You're capable of it, yes," he noted. "But I don't think I trust you to do it properly right now." Osamu inhaled, scratches stinging as Kita worked. "I'm almost done," he muttered. "At least this isn't as bad as last winter. I still don’t know why you didn’t use moisturizer," he added, and Osamu blinked.

He knew this one.

"I…I hate the way it feels," he replied, remembering the story and confident enough that it counted as small talk. "Well, before you…" he trailed off, remembering the story.

It had been near the end of Atsumu’s first year. Atsumu was complaining about his hands. Again. He did it every winter, and every winter Osamu told him to just buy some lotion. He never did.

"Are you out? I know we're through winter, but your skin dries out so easily," Kita asked, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of Osamu’s hand, just beside the freshly bandaged scratches, Osamu’s heart inching towards his throat.

But one day at practice, Atsumus hands had finally cracked, and started bleeding.

"No. No, I… uh, still have some," Osamu replied uncertainly.

Kita had brought Atsumu the bandages when the coach noticed the bleeding. He helped Atsumu get cleaned up, and after, he gave him some moisturizer.

"Good. All done. Now, about Friday-" Kita shifted his grip on Osamu’s hand, and Osamu's stomach sank.

But he was saved by the whistle, quite literally, and had never been more grateful to hear the shrill sound or the coach's voice as he told everyone to circle up.

"Oh, uh, well, thanks for the help," Osamu managed, all but yanking his hand away as he stood and hurried onto the court with everyone else, ignoring Kita's gaze on his back and the soft sigh he heard.

Atsumu hadn't had as much of an issue with his hands in winter after that.

Osamu shook his head as the coach began addressing them.

Practice.

That was the focus right now.

Well, and not making an ass of himself, or rather, Atsumu, any more than he already had yesterday. He could theorize and remember and hope Atsumu wouldn’t kill him for the brief interaction with Kita later, he told himself as they split into teams for mock matches.

Yeah.

Right now, he just had to not get hit in the face again, and that was a tall enough order on its own.

---

Atsumu really, really wished he had tried harder to get Osamu to keep playing volleyball.

Maybe then he wouldn't have a job and Atsumu wouldn't feel like a chicken with his head cut off, but here he was.

"Ok, ok. Calm down," Osamu repeated for the umpteenth time.

"'Samu, if you say that one more time," Atsumu started, almost losing his balance as he weaved out of the kitchen and back into the dining area.

"Well you're the one who asked for my help."

"Yeah, help. Not to be told to calm down. No one calms down when someone says 'calm down', c'mon," Atsumu retorted, and Osamu sighed.

"I can tune out if you want me t-"

"No!" Atsumu yelped as he quickly set a few drinks down, inclining his head to the recipients and hurrying back to the kitchen. "Don't leave. I...I'm really out of my depth here, 'Samu," Atsumu admitted with a wince.

"I know," Osamu stated, his voice softening slightly. "Which is why I've been asking you to calm down and listen to me."

Atsumu took a deep breath as he slipped back into the kitchen. "Ok. Ok, fine."

"Good. Now, first. You've actually been doin pretty well, so I wouldn't be that worried. In fact, for what you're doin tonight, you've already got it down. Workwise that is. But you won't be able to dodge the conversation with my stepmom once your shift’s over, so you need to be ready for that."

"You know, when I asked for help, I wasn't thinkin you'd give me even more things to worry about."

"Fine, fine. You need to get table three their drinks. And then eight. And take both in one trip, no slacking."

Atsumu cursed to himself. "Shit. You're right. Thanks," he said, grabbing the glasses.

The next three hours until the end of his shift felt like an eternity, but finally, finally, Atsumu was done, all but swaying where he stood as he pulled on a jacket, ready to leave for the evening.

"You alright over there?" he heard Osamu’s stepmom ask, and he stifled a yawn.

"Yeah, yeah. Never better." She raised an eyebrow as they stepped outside, her locking the door as Atsumu mentally pinged Osamu.

"Dude. I'm off. Should I try to talk to your stepmom?"

"You sure about that?" she asked as they began walking.

"Shit, yeah. Yeah, you should. Is she asking how you're doing though?" Osamu responded, Atsumu still able to register a few vague thoughts about the homework Osamu must've been working on.

"Yeah. And I've been quiet for way too long. What do I-"

"Say you're feeling pretty good, it's just been a weird week so far."

"I’m feeling pretty good," Atsumu started as soon as he had the words, breaking the awkward silence that had started to grow. "It's just been a weird week so far."

"Weird, huh?" she asked.

"Weird," Atsumu repeated, with probably just a hint more conviction than necessary.

“Ok. If you say so,” she sighed, shaking her head. “But, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this for a few days now, with this weekend coming up and all,” she continued, and Atsumu stiffened.

“‘Samu, she’s been meanin to talk to you about something about this weekend,” he relayed. “Do you think-”

“I don’t know! And you won’t either if you don’t shut up and listen to her!” Osamu snapped, but Atsumu could hear the undercurrent of hope and excitement.

“-end, I think it could be a good idea. But, I haven’t talked to your dad about it yet, I wanted to ask you first. What do you think?” Atsumu blinked.

Fuck.

“Oh, well I,” he started, hearing Osamu groan.

“You missed everything she said, didn’t you?”

“No! Just most of it. What do I say? It’s been way too long again!”

“Just, tell her…”

“Osamu? Are you sure you're alright?” she asked, and Atsumu cursed internally.

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just, a little out of it. Could you, maybe say all that again?”

“Smooth.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, now I’m not so sure I should’ve even brought it up. Osamu, we talked about this.”

“Uhh, you two have talked about something?”

“What? Ah, shit, that's right. She’s worried I’m overworking myself. Just tell her I’m not.”

“Have you been sleeping enough?” she asked, and Atsumu nodded quickly.

“Plenty of sleep, I promise. I’m not overworking, really.”

“Then, do you have another reason for taking so long to respond and being a little off balance back there?” she tipped her head back, in the direction of the restaurant.

“Uhhh, I just…” Atsumu tried. “C’mon, help me out here, what's the excuse?”

“Tell her you’ve just been in your own head because of the event this weekend.”

“I’ve just been thinking about the event this weekend a lot,” Atsumu blurted out. “And if I could go this time.”

“Dude? What the hell?! She’s not gonna-” Osamu started

“Oh. Oh! Honey,” she started, laughing lightly. “Well, then, it’s a good thing that’s what I was trying to ask you about.”

“Really?” Atsumu asked, relief flowing through him. “I can go?”

“Well, I didn’t say that,” she cautioned quickly, and Atsumu deflated a bit. “I haven’t mentioned it to your dad, and I wasn’t sure if you thought you could handle the extra prep on top of your school work this week.”

“I can!” Atsumu insisted immediately “I’m sure I can, and I’ll talk to dad and-”

“Whoa, slow down there,” she laughed again. “If you think you can handle it, I won’t argue with you. But, I think I’ll take you off the schedule for the rest of the week, so you can rest up. How does that sound?”

“That's great!”

“Ok, good,” she said with a smile. “I’m very glad you’ll get to do this, Osamu, really, but I know you tend to disrespect your own limits,” she started. “So... just listen to yourself, ok? Rest when you need to.” Atsumu winced at that.

“Alright. I will,” he promised.

Maybe tenacity was a trait he and Osamu shared, and maybe that wasn’t always a good thing.

“Ok. Well, here we are,” she said with a smile, looking out at the train station. “Have a good night, and sleep well. I’ll see you later,” she added, gently shoving him towards the train, and off he stumbled.

“Ok, sounds good, thank you!” he managed before she was out of his sight, and he was blinking slowly before making his way through payment and onto the train, her words echoing in his mind.

“Did she just...say you could go?” Osamu asked, sounding a bit shocked.

“Yeah,” Atsumu responded, beginning to grin. “Yeah, she did. We’re gonna be done with this nightmare in just a few days.”

“Don’t say that yet. Remember what happened last time you talked that confidently?” Osamu countered, though Atsumu could tell he was relieved. “Besides, I haven’t talked to your mom yet either,” he pointed out.

“Buzzkill,” Atsumu scoffed as he sat down.

“Well at least I’m not-damn it, speak of the devil, your mom’s calling right now. You ready to walk me through this?”

“Obviously,” Atsumu responded, hoping his relief and happiness didn’t bleed through too badly.

“Good. I’m answering.”

---

Coaching Atsumu through work had been even worse than trying to help him with homework.

He didn’t listen, snapped back after he was the one to ask a question or for help, and then asked Osamu to stay on top of everything. It had been several exhausting hours, especially after Osamu’s morning, the bandages on his hands now fresh ones, courtesy of, once again, Kita (Fortunately he had allowed Osamu to put them on himself, needing to help the coach with something captain-y and official), afternoon of classes and dodging weird looks and giggles from people (Osamu thought he might be starting to understand what Atsumu was talking about. This kind of attention was...less than pleasant), and then an afternoon practice in which he had barely managed to avoid Kita.

But now all that was over, Kuro had been fed and was now napping on his cat tower, Atsumu’s homework was finished and in his backpack, and Osamu had eaten, managing to scrounge together enough basic materials to make his own dinner, though he wasn’t sure if there’d be enough for him to do so tomorrow

Which left this one last hurdle.

The ringing phone in Osamu’s hand, the caller ID reading ‘Mom’.

“Good. I’m answering,” Osamu responded.

He still had to take a deep breath before pressing accept, making his way towards the back door. He couldn't quite say why, but he could tell he'd be pacing for this whole call and nowhere inside felt big enough for that.

“Atsumu!” came his mom's cheerful voice.

“Mom!” Osamu replied, hearing Atsumu snort. “Shut it.”

“Fine, just tell me what she says.”

“‘Course, what else did you think I’d do?”

“How’ve you been? Was practice good? Has Fujimoto dropped by to check on you yet?” Osamu blinked, quickly relaying all the questions to Atsumu as he slipped out onto the back patio, and Atsumu laughed lightly, almost in a relieved way.

“Say good, great, no, I’m almost sixteen,” he instructed.

“Good, great, no, I’m almost sixteen,” Osamu repeated as he began pacing.

“You’ve got a practice game on Thursday don’t you? How’re you feeling about it?” she asked, Osamu relaying once again.

“Good. We’ve all been practicing really hard.” Atsumu responded, voice lighter than Osamu had heard it since this whole ordeal started.

“Good. We’ve all been practicing really hard.”

“That's great! When's your next tournament again?”

Osamu knew this one.

“A month and a half from now,” he responded before Atsumu could remind him. God only knows Atsumu had talked about it enough.

“That's right! The interhigh, isn't it?”

“Yeah,” Osamu said. “Uh, how’s work been?”

“Good. Everythings nearly in order and most of the band already has everything ready to go for this weekend. I can’t wait to get home though,” she responded.

“Good,” Osamu responded, and Atsumu groaned.

“No one word responses. And keep telling me what she’s saying.”

“Everythings ready for this weekend, she can't wait to get home,” Osamu paraphrased, huffing slightly.

“Tell her I’m excited for her to get back too. And ask her if I can go with her.”

“I’m excited for you to get back too,” Osamu started. “Wait, how do I ask her?”

“Just ask. Say ‘Mom, can I come with you this weekend?’ Whaddya mean ‘how’?” Atsumu all but scoffed, and Osamu bit back his annoyance.

“But, I was wondering,” he continued. “If I could come with you this weekend. To the event, I mean,” he said, wincing slightly.

There was no way this would work.

“Oh, Atsumu,” his mom started, and Osamu almost winced again. “I’m not sure. I know I told you I have a plus one, but I know you have school and volleyball. I don’t want to take you away from your responsibilities...” She sighed. “But I know we've talked about it before... you know, I’ll think about it. I promise I'll think about it and let you know, ok?” she said, and Osamu untensed a little as he quickly relayed the statements to Atsumu.

“You get all that?” he asked as he finished.

Atsumu was, for once, silent.

Until he burst out laughing.

“Hell yeah I did! Thank her, thank her! And tell her you love her!”

Osamu blinked in surprise, but quickly did as instructed. “Ah, thank you. Thank you so much mom, I love you,” he managed, though some of those words felt more than a little foreign on his tongue.

"I love you too, Atsumu. Oh, I gotta go! I'll let you know when I'm coming home as soon as I can! Good night and sleep well!" she said in a rush.

"Ok, thanks, goodnight," Osamu barely managed before the line went dead.

"Hell yes!" Atsumu repeated with another bright laugh.

"Why are you so happy? She just said she'd think about it," Osamu all but snapped.

Admittedly, he was glad it hadn't been an immediate and flat out no, but still. ‘I'll think about it’ hardly seemed like a stellar answer either.

"Uhh, because I know my mom," Atsumu shot back. "For her, that was basically a straight up yes," he stated, and Osamu blinked.

"Wait, really?"

"Really. Just wait like two days and then try to tell me I'm wrong," Atsumu said smugly, and Osamu rolled his eyes.

"Fine, geez."

"You already finished my homework, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm the one who should be askin that question," Osamu retorted, and Atsumu scoffed.

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"That you never do your homework anyway. And you didn't answer my question."

Atsumu sighed, rolling his eyes. "I've told you before, I'll tell you again, homework can wait a few minutes if Kuro needs attention or my sets need polishing," he responded, as though it was the way everyone thought. "And of course I haven't. I just got home and I need your help with it anyway."

Osamu sighed "Fine. Are you ready to start?"

"Gimme one second. Man do you guys really not have any snacks?"

"I normally make some over the weekends, but I had extra work," Osamu responded, and Atsumu groaned. "Make your own if it's that big of a deal."

"Fine. Maybe I will." Osamu's eyes widened, and Atsumu laughed. "Kidding, kidding," he assured, and Osamu exhaled.

"Good. You'd cut a finger off before you even picked up the knife."

"Would not! If you can do it, I can," he stated firmly, and Osamu arched an eyebrow.

"'Tsumu, I've been cooking for how long again?"

"...four years."

"And you've been cooking for how long?"

"No years."

"Exactly."

"Well I could learn," Atsumu retorted.

"You could," Osamu agreed. "But, not in one night and not on your own. So homework it is. Are you ready yet?"

“No, gimme a minute to find something to eat that doesn’t need cooking, since you’ve banned me from that.” Atsumu tuned out a bit, and Osamu exhaled as he finally stopped pacing and looked up.

It was full dark already, and though the moon was nowhere to be seen, more stars than Osamu ever had were sparkling above him.

He’d never thought about light pollution much, but he found himself thinking about it now.

About the city he’d been raised in.

About the man who had raised him.

The city he might have been raised in.

The woman who might have raised him.

She had seemed kind enough, he had to admit, in a strange sort of way.

And the solitude was nice, Osamu realized as the frogs and crickets chirped. He hadn’t gotten much of it back in Tokyo.

No stars, no mom, no alone time.

He swallowed as a breeze blew, ruffling the blond hair that wasn’t quite his, and tried not to think about how much would be different when he returned.

“Alright, I found a snack. You good to go?” Atsumu asked, butting back into Osamu’s mind.

He inhaled, scrubbing at his damp eyes with his left hand, stomach twisting when didn’t feel his bracelet slide down his wrist.

“Yeah. Yeah, let's get started.” He slipped back inside and beelined to Atsumu’s bedroom, and, if asked, he wouldn’t have been able to say if he locked the back door or not.