caught in the rain | osamu miya
synopsis; (y/n) is on her way back to the inarizaki dorms when she gets caught in the rain, and ends up stranded under a shed with one of the miya twins
this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series!
back when they were still in high school 🙂↕️🙂↕️
The downpour came out of nowhere.
That's the thing about April—the weather is always unpredictable. One minute the sky was an almost perfect blue, the sun shining with the promise of spring; the next, the sky had opened like a bucket tipped from the clouds. A fine mist clung to the ground where heavy sheets of rain crashed onto the tarmac, kicking up the scent of wet asphalt and earth. Even the temperature had taken a turn, dropping enough to raise goosebumps along her arms.
And of course, today of all days, (y/n) had forgotten to bring her umbrella.
Her shoes slapped against the wet pavement as she hurried for shelter. Her damp skirt brushed against her thighs, arms wrapped tightly around her schoolbag as she sprinted toward the nearest cover: a small, tin-roofed rest stop at the edge of the school’s walking trail. It was a ruddy old thing—just enough space to duck under and breathe—but it was better than being caught in a storm.
She burst beneath it, chest heaving, hair plastered to her face, and let out a startled gasp when she nearly collided with someone already standing there.
The boy blinked, just as startled. His silver hair was damp and messy, darkened at the ends where the water hadn't dried. Like (y/n), he was wearing an Inarizaki school uniform, the fabric a little wrinkled where water had soaked through.
Well, not exactly. She’d seen him earlier during volleyball practice—one of Suna’s teammates. More specifically, one of the twins.
Luckily, not the blonde one.
His eyebrows lifted in recognition. "Oh. It’s you."
His voice wasn't hostile. Though it wasn't particularly warm, either. It was flat, maybe a little blunt. But at least, unlike his brother, he didn't look particularly displeased by her presence.
Imagine if I'd have bumped into the blonde one.
(Y/n) attempted to make herself more presentable as she fussed with her uniform. The fabric was soaked through, clinging in all the wrong places.
“You remember me?" she asked.
He nodded, tilting his head a little in recollection. “From earlier. Ya came to watch Suna, right?”
She hesitated, wiping water from her cheek with her sleeve. Remembering names and faces hadn’t always been her forte, but theirs had definitely stuck.
Hard to forget such loud presences.
Nodding, she offered a polite smile. “Mhmm. You're Miya, right?"
His response came out quick, but not sharp. More like... corrective. Like he was used to making that distinction.
(Y/n) paused, a little stunned by the first-name basis. At first she thought he was acting bold, but then she figured... yeah. If she had a twin, she’d probably want people to call her by her first name too. Probably easier for everyone.
She wondered absently if that’s also why they dyed their hair different colours.
“Sorry—Osamu," she tried to familiarise herself with the name. She'd be seeing him every day at school, then at practice, so she might as well. “Got it.”
Osamu hummed approvingly, then shifted to the side without a word, giving her more space beneath the overhang. She hadn’t even realized how narrow the shed was until the small gesture brought her just out of the edge of the rain.
Now they stood shoulder to shoulder, close but not quite touching. Close enough to hear the rustle of his uniform as he tucked his hands into his pockets.
“Some weather, huh,” he murmured.
“Some weather,” she echoed, exhaling softly.
Outside, the neighbourhood had turned an almost eerie shade of dark grey. Like dusk had crept in early, dragging the clouds with it.
The steady beat of rain drummed against the tin roof, accompanied by not much else.
Should I speak? (y/n) asked herself. She could talk about the weather—now would certainly be a good time—but Osamu had beat her to it.
So, now what? Standing in silence just felt so awkward. They were in the same class, and technically they had met before. Although they hadn't exactly spoke much—if at all. Still, the fact that they were acquaintances made her feel as though she needed to fill the silence.
"I take it you got caught in it too?" she offered at last, looking out at the downpour. She realised a second too late that that had been a stupid question.
"Nah. I love takin' walks in rainstorms."
(Y/n) pursed her lips, feeling dumb indeed. But Osamu didn't rub it in, just chuckled as she shook her head at her own social inaptitude.
"I'm not usually this awkward," she sighed. "I just couldn't think of anything better to say."
Osamu's lips quirked into a faint smile. "Yer fine," he said. "I was tryna think of somethin' to say, too."
(Y/n) relaxed at that, feeling relieved... and a little flattered, too. He was giving her the time of day—something she hadn’t really expected from him. Not because she thought he was a bad person, but because his twin had acted like he wanted nothing to do with her. She’d assumed he’d be the same. Only now did she realise maybe she’d been unfair to think that way. So, she let her guard down a little.
It was then that she noticed him rummaging through his duffle bag. She glanced sideways at him, curious, and blinked as he pulled out what looked to be a sports jersey. Burgundy, a little wrinkled, and—if (y/n)'s memory was correct—the same one he'd been wearing during practice.
"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Sorry if it's a little damp, I was usin' it to dry my hair."
(Y/n)’s lips parted in genuine disbelief. Kind—this boy was being so kind. Now she just felt worse for lumping him in with his ass of a brother. “Are you sure?”
Osamu offered a light shrug, then jerked his head at the outstretched jersey, hinting at her to take it. "Might as well. Yer pretty soaked."
(Y/n) gingerly took the jacket off him and began running it through her wet hair. Indeed, the fabric was cold and still a bit damp as it brushed against the back of her neck, and it smelled like a typical boy, too. Like deodorant and fresh laundry detergent. However there was a warmth to his scent she couldn’t quite place. A faint trace of food, like he’d left the jacket hanging in a kitchen while someone was cooking.
"Thanks for this," (y/n) smiled, squeezing the lengths of her locks. "Makes me feel icky when I have wet hair."
Osamu gave a soft hum, a dismissive little sound. “All good. Ya looked like ya needed it.”
They both laughed quietly at that. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Plus I'd be guilty if ya caught a cold, or somethin'."
"You would?" she asked, curious.
Osamu suddenly sounded playful. "Yeah. I mean who else would come n' watch Suna practice?"
(Y/n) bristled. Paused mid-wipe. And turned to look at him.
Osamu only offered a little smile, perhaps a coy one. Or maybe she was just being paranoid.
"He asked me to come, for the record," she defended mildly. Though it wasn’t a lie. Suna really had invited her to come and meet the team.
"Cute," was all Osamu replied. But when (y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, he gave a light chuckle and held his hands up placatingly.
"I wasn't bein' condescendin'," he clarified. "I meant it—you and Suna seem close. It was cute seein’ ya cheer him on.”
He sounded sincere, though maybe that was because anything sounded friendlier with a Kansai accent. It was charming, and perhaps (y/n) was feeling just a little bit charmed.
"We are," she smiled. "We've known each other since we were kids. Went to the same schools and everything. That’s why I came to Inarizaki, actually—because Rin—Suna—got scouted here."
She regretted saying the last part. But if Osamu picked up on her sudden bashfulness, he didn't let it show. He did, however, seem genuinely intrigued as he glanced down at her from the corner of his eyes.
He trailed off, but the implication was clear.
The word came out fast—too fast. And a little too blunt.
Osamu turned to look at her, eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“We’re just friends,” she amended, forcing her voice steady. She was thankful that the rosiness on her cheeks could be blamed on the chill in the air.
Osamu didn't press any further. Didn't comment on her little outburst. Instead, he just turned back to the rain with a thoughtful nod.
“Got it,” he said. “Just friends.”
He didn’t sound all that convinced, but (y/n) was thankful he didn’t pry. Thankful, too, for the jacket in her hands—something to keep her occupied, to stop her from thinking too hard about Suna or how flustered she might’ve looked.
She gave her hair a final pat-down, the strands likely frizzed beyond repair. But honestly? She couldn’t bring herself to care. Osamu didn’t seem like the type to notice, let alone judge.
He’d been… nice. Surprisingly nice.
Maybe that’s why she hesitated, then pulled the jacket a little closer. The wind had picked up again, sending chilly waves beneath the overhang, and before she could overthink it, she draped the jersey over her shoulders.
Something told her he wouldn’t mind.
“Sorry if my brother gave ya a bad first impression," Osamu said out of nowhere.
She glanced up at him, about to respond, but he cut in before she had the chance. "He's not always like that."
"He isn't?" (Y/n) couldn't quite believe that. His brother—Atsumu—seemed like the type of guy to always run his mouth. Your typical arrogant jock that ought to be put in his place.
"Well," Osamu continued, his voice a bit strained. He seemed to search for his words.
"Just most the time?" (y/n) tried to finish for him. She hoped that wouldn't offend him. They were still brothers, after all.
"Yeah," Osamu eventually conceded. "Most the time." And at that, his voice turned a tiny bit softer.
As for the rain, it seemed to soften a little too. The storm had turned into a manageable drizzle. Above, the dark clouds were beginning to disperse, thin rays of sunshine making the wet tarmac glisten prettily.
"Thanks for this, by the way." She shrugged her shoulders, bringing attention to the jacket draped over them.
Osamu looked down, only now noticing. He smiled the way she'd expected. "Suits ya."
The way he said it sounded a lot like, you don't have to give it back just yet, so she didn't.
She stepped out from under the shelter, careful not to slip on the wet concrete, and breathed in deep. The air was fresh and clean now, scented with petrichor and moss. The path ahead glistened under the faint glow of returning sun, raindrops clinging to tree branches like little silver ornaments.
She barely made it two steps before Osamu fell into pace beside her.
“Yer headin’ back to the dorms, right? I can walk ya,” he offered, looking at her for confirmation.
(Y/n) was taken aback by his gallantry. The walk wasn't far by any means, nor was it a dodgy area. She could easily make her way back on her own. But for some reason, she didn’t feel like protesting.
She’d actually enjoyed her little encounter with him. It’d be a shame to cut it short when he was offering to spend more time with her.
“You’re quite the gent compared to your twin, aren’t you?” she teased.
Osamu chuckled at that. “Someone’s gotta make up for his crappy attitude.”
(Y/n) gave a little laugh.
They walked in silence for a little while, their footsteps thudding against the damp trail. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though. In fact, it felt surprisingly easy. Like neither of them felt the need to fill the quiet.
Osamu didn’t seem like the type to talk just for the sake of it, and (y/n) found she liked that about him. It reminded her of Suna.
Her eyes flicked sideways at him every so often, taking him in quietly. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked in his pockets again, eyes on the path ahead. There was something grounding about him. Something easy-going and kind without being performative.
A stark contrast to the other Miya, she thought.
It's funny how two people could look identical and yet feel completely different. Atsumu had been nothing but loud and cocky from the moment she’d met him. All sharp smiles and an even sharper tongue.
But Osamu? He didn’t seem like that at all.
At least, that’s what their short interactions had led her to think.
By the time they reached the dorm gates, the sky had cleared into a soft blue, streaked with the last remnants of grey clouds.
She stopped by the gate, turning to face him. “Thanks for walking me back, Osamu. And for your jacket.” Her smile was genuine as she handed it back. “It was nice seeing you again.”
“No worries,” he said, giving her a small nod. “We didn’t get to talk much earlier so ‘m glad I bumped into ya. Or ya bumped into me, rather.”
(Y/n) bit back a laugh at the recollection of her almost colliding into him at the shelter.
For a second, she thought he was going to leave it at that.
“I assume I’ll see ya at practice?” he asked, but the question was all mischief—the corner of his mouth quirking in that coy, knowing way.
He meant Suna’s practice. And after today, it was probably obvious she’d show up again.
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help her smile. She had to admit, his wit was a little amusing. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Osamu ducked his head, chuckling under his breath. The wet tarmac slapped beneath his heel as he hopped down the steps.
“See ya later, (y/n). Was nice meetin’ ya properly.”
He gave her one last wave, and just like that, he turned and headed off down the path.
(Y/n) lingered a moment longer, watching him go. Then, with a quiet smile tugging at her lips, she slipped into the dorms.
