finally finished this piece! wanted to challenge myself by doing something you couldn't argue for even a second isn't a "real" background lol. i'm pretty happy with how it turned out! 😊✨️
🌟 if u wanna colour it yourself, you can download the lineart here for free. it's a transparent png file. :) if you do, please post it and tag me--i'd love to see it!
some of my fave details: 1) the romero poster, the vandalization on atsumu's vball article, the smileys on the closet box with A and O noses, osamu's yakitate japan shirt; 2) atsumu's hinata and kageyama crow plushies, mini ushiwaka on the sportiva mag, vabo-chan thundersticks on top of the closet; 3) osamu's kita plushie & onigiri blanket, gay penguins in gin's textbook; 4) the pocky box in osamu's gym bag & the band-aid box in atsumu's; and 5) there's no close-up of this one but sunarin's bag has a phone charger & a lil flower keychain that he got from his little sis. :') also that's a volleyball rug underneath the desk chair 'cuz atsumu's obsessed lol.
warnings: reader is reserved, fem reader, swearing, platonic or romantic idgaf
IDK bout’ you guys, but every time I think about Inarizaki having a manager, I think about someone who:
Is stereotyped as your typical “quiet” and “reserved” demeanor girlie when in actuality—she just finds herself in a difficult position to open up to the boys. 😓
- I mean, who wouldn’t have a hard time, they’re like top two in the nation and HIGHKEY intimidating to be with, I have respect 4u girl. 🫡 but a job is a job. Kita recruited you since he had to balance his club and academics at one point (also following the coach’s suggestion).
Also should I just mention that you are such a beauty??? Like, maybe if you weren’t so pretty and mysterious then they wouldn’t be bothering you so much just to talk with you!! 😾
- Suna tries to small talk with you sometimes, keyword: tries (his way of trying is giving you the most unnoticeable hints that he wants to talk with you).
- Whenever you begin to feel tired during a long day in practice, Osamu won’t just let it slip past him and hands you some of his mint candy that he has to help you stay awake as he suggests. Yall chill like that🤞
- You and Kita are the ones who are always together, since you guys discuss about the team’s schedule and strategies alongside coach. But that’s just about it.
- Aran and Omimi tends to help you with your duties, especially if it requires lifting heavy weight or a lot of items to carry. We love gentlemen. 🫡
- Riseki is TOO shy to chat with you, but he’s trying his best I swear. 🥲 Your glamorous self just makes him feel like standing beside you feel like a huge offense.
- The closest (🤏) I would consider to be close to you is proably Akagi and Ginjima, they were the ones who approached you with a warm welcome and introduced you to the team as they showed you the ropes of being a manager.
As for Atsumu? I’m gonna need a whole separate section for him hol’ on.
- How do I even start with him.
- Because for the first time, he doesn’t attract your attention, he’s chasing for it.
- You’re supposed to praise him! fangirl over him! shower him with your undying attention! Not just awkwardly standing there and nodding every now and then! 😾
- Can’t you see how hurt his pride is. 😞 (his fault for expecting too much tbh 😹)
- His last straw was during when he was practicing his sets and you were there to watch. So when you approached him, he was expecting the words: “wow you’re amazing Atsumu!”
- Your response?
- “Miya you should probably extend your arms further more so you have better accuracy on the ball.”
- his jaw dropped to the floor.
- YOU? THE MANAGER? giving him TIPS?
- and what’s worst is that you were right and it genuinely improved his sets slightly better, oh he’s never forgetting about this.
But even after all that, you genuinely just could not bring yourself to be close and open up to them, your reason? a lot.
- The volleyball team of Inarizaki is undeniably well known around the campus and to be their manager is either a curse or a blessing.
- actually scrap that. It’s a fucking curse.
- number one. the top on the damn list. their fangirls.
- the amount of them that question you about the team is just too much for your poor social battery to handle. You were their victim number one to harass about the team. (props to Aran for always saving you during times like these 🙂↕️)
- which is also why you have a set of rules to yourself whenever you encounter one of the members in the campus: 1) walk quickly past them in the hallways, 2) only talk to them when they initiate it first, and 3) to never bring up anything about them around the campus.
- number two would be the team itself. why? very self explanatory. 😊
- you do not get an ounce of peace and rest around those guys. Especially Atsumu’s endless cycle of jokes and teasing just to get a reaction out of you.
- and that one time Osamu accidentally served a ball towards you. You were on the tribunes just taking notes. WHO SERVES AT THE TRIBUNES.
- but its okay, he bought you a snack as an apology after that on the convenience store run on the way home. His motherfucker of a twin however just laughed at you like a maniac.
- also the amount of strays you have to pick up during practice is EXHAUSTING. Being their manager made your spine feel like 85 years old.
However, you are genuinely such a hardworking girlie🥹 your actions spoke louder than words, it’s just your way of showing you care for them but sometimes you just don’t feel like it’s enough and you don’t think they notice it either because of how reserved you could be.
- Inarizaki’s volleyball team was independent, they didn’t need a manager.
- which is what they think.
- because ever since you arrived, Kita has felt a heavy weight lift off his shoulders (++ coach too). You’ve genuinely helped them in ways that you didn’t deem possible
- you also took notes of the smallest things or even the quiet observations about the team on your notebook (e.g. “Make sure Atsumu doesn’t forget about his water” or “Osamu gets grumpy if he skips meals” etc.)
- Although they may not be vocal about it or have mentioned about it—the team just has so much respect for you. To be able to manage a team like them is impressive. They don’t think anyone would be able to top your managing skills EVER.
So yeah, it kinda just went on like that… not for long. You strictly kept a classmate relationship between them and just went on being their manager—you do your job, but you kept a distance. That is until Inarizaki gets their win against another strong team.
It wasn’t anything serious or sad with what became the turning point in your relationship with the team, I’d say its very Inarizaki like.
- It happened when Inarizaki won against a really strong team, the game was fierce and stressful to watch, but in the end they were able to snatch the gold.
- Undeniably, the boys are all hyped. “We should celebrate! C’mon let’s go out to eat!” Akagi says as he excitedly suggested.
- the others agreed with the idea, especially a certain twin. On the way, they all discussed their orders and plans for later. In the end they all decided to go for ramen.
- You on the other hand kept silent. You decided it was best for you to go home already and let them have their fun, your social battery was draining anyways.
- which COULD’VE been the plan.
- Until Kita turns around to your direction, then offhandedly says: “You’re coming too right?”
- your brain short circuits.
- it doesn’t help with the fact now that the rest is also waiting for your answer.
- is this what they call peer pressure. 😵💫
- but it was in this moment that you realize that—they actually want you to be there. Not just as their manager, but as part of the team.
- So you agreed.
- It was a warm moment when you guys were inside the ramen bar, everyone made an effort to include you, making stupid jokes, teasing you slightly, sharing food, etc.
- And, probably for the first time ever, you were laughing with them.
- And, they all just. froze.
- Because they rarely saw you express emotions around them. Heck, not even a laugh!
- They all glanced at each other and nodded, yep, it was like they had antennas saying their common goal: to see you smile more.
In the end, Inarizaki needs a manager who can handle their shit—and love them anyway.
WOOO kinda short but hope u guys enjoyed, I just kinda wanted to share my thoughts BECAUSE every time I write about Inarizaki having a manager, I always imagine someone who’s just keeps to herself yk, but thas js me🤷♀️ Thats why I chose Haerin for today’s layout because the personality matches her sm lowk omg
I kinda wanna make this a series tbh, LIKE that one shiratorizawa series in Ao3 I FORGOT THE NAME but you guys know right….. right.
kita shows up early—like, the-clock-didn’t-even-say-good-morning-yet early—holding a small, immaculately wrapped box like it’s something sacred.
“you didn’t have to come this early,” you whisper, tugging him inside before the cold eats him alive.
he blinks at you, cheeks faintly pink. “i couldn’t wait any longer.”
you open the box and find a soft, cream-colored scarf. hand-knitted. perfect stitches. it smells faintly like cedar and warm rice.
“shinsuke… did you make this?”
he nods once, very matter-of-fact. “i wanted something that’d keep you warm. since i can’t always be right next to you.”
you drape it around your neck, and his eyes soften like sunrise.
“how’s it look?” you tease.
“like it was made for you,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb lightly against your jaw before pulling you into a gentle hug—one that feels like a promise.
⋆⁺₊❅.
ōmimi ren
you’re still half-asleep when ren knocks softly, then panics because “soft” to him is apparently “earthquake-level rumble.”
“i’m sorry— sorry— i didn’t mean to wake you like that—”
you open the door laughing. “ren, come inside before you apologize a hole into the universe.”
he hands you a huge, fluffy blanket—thick, brown, and ridiculously soft.
“for you,” he says shyly. “’cause you always get cold. and i… don’t want that.”
you rub your cheek into it. “ren, this is amazing. it’s like hugging a cloud.”
he lights up. “i hoped you’d say that.”
then—he asks, voice tiny,
“can i see how you look wrapped in it?”
you bundle yourself up, peek your head out, and he melts so hard you swear he sinks an inch into the floor.
he gives you a long, warm hug, careful like you’re something delicate, and whispers,
“i’m really glad i get to give you things.”
⋆⁺₊❅.
ojiro aran
aran brings his gift with the calm confidence of a man who knows he’s about to win.
“close your eyes,” he says, voice deep and warm.
you raise a brow. “if you jump-scare me, i’m ending you.”
he laughs, “i wouldn’t dare.”
when you open them, he’s holding a necklace—a simple silver chain with a tiny star pendant. elegant. subtle. gorgeous.
“aran… it’s beautiful.”
“i wanted something you could wear anytime,” he says, gently placing it around your neck. “something that stays close to you… like i want to.”
you lean your forehead against his chest, whispering,
“you’re too smooth for your own good.”
he grins, wrapping his arms around you and brushing a kiss into your hair.
“only for you, sweetheart.”
⋆⁺₊❅.
ginjima hitoshi
ginjima bursts into your place like he’s delivering a secret mission.
“operation merry christmas is officially underway!”
you snort. “did you just give your arrival a title?”
“yes. stand by for phase two.”
phase two is… a giant plush wolf.
like. enormous. bigger than your couch.
“hitoshi,” you whisper, staring, “this thing is a titan.”
he beams proudly. “it reminded me of you.”
“…a massive wolf?”
“no! no, the softness!” he flails. “and the comfort! and the— okay the wolf part too because you’re kinda intimidating when you’re hungry.”
you shove his shoulder, laughing, and he pulls you into a tight hug, murmuring,
“i just… wanted you to have something to hold when i’m not here.”
⋆⁺₊❅.
miya atsumu
he shows up with a grin so bright it’s illegal.
“merry christmas, angel!”
“tsum, it’s six a.m.”
“exactly! the earlier the love, the better the day!”
he hands you a box, bouncing like he’s gonna explode.
inside: a charm bracelet. every charm is something b e y o n d personal—a tiny volleyball, a star, a little onigiri, a heart engraved with your initials and his intertwined.
“tsumu…” your voice cracks. “this must have taken forever.”
he puffs up. “anything for ya! i even cried at the store lady when she said the heart charm was ‘too cheesy.’ i defended your honor.”
you laugh into his chest, and he wraps you up instantly, peppering your cheeks with kisses like he’s trying to claim every inch.
“yer my favorite person in the whole world,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours.
⋆⁺₊❅.
suna rintarō
suna slides in like he owns the place, holding a small box with zero emotion on his face.
“here,” he says. “before you accuse me of having no holiday spirit.”
you squint. “i would never—”
he raises a brow.
“okay maybe i would.”
you open the box and find… a photo album.
but when you flip it open?
it’s filled with pictures he secretly took of you—candid moments, adorable ones, some slightly questionable angles he definitely risked his life for.
“rintarō,” you whisper, touched. “you made this?”
“yeah.” he shrugs, pretending it’s no big deal. “you look cute. i wanted to keep the proof.”
you launch into his arms, and he catches you with a soft grunt, smirking against your shoulder.
“don’t get all emotional,” he says—but his hands tighten around your waist like he never wants to let go.
⋆⁺₊❅.
miya osamu
osamu shows up with a neatly wrapped box and a shy tilt to his smile.
“got somethin’ for ya,” he murmurs, nudging it into your hands.
inside is a beautifully crafted wooden jewelry box—smooth, cool-toned, and carved with little stars.
“samu… it’s gorgeous.”
his voice softens. “made it thinkin’ of you. wanted you to have somethin’ that lasts.”
you trace the carvings.
“the stars are my favorite part.”
he gives a tiny grin. “good. they’re supposed to be you.”
your heart stutters. “me?”
“yeah,” he mutters, pulling you into his arms. “’cause you light up my whole damn life.”
⋆⁺₊❅.
kosaku yūto
kosaku arrives sweating like he sprinted the entire way.
“sorry—! i got excited—! and i didn’t wanna be late—!”
you grab his wrists. “breathe, baby.”
he hands you a box. inside is a handmade snow globe—you, him, and a winter scene that looks suspiciously like your first date.
“yūto… this is incredible.”
he blushes bright pink. “i hoped you’d like it. i wanted something that… uh… shakes.”
you laugh. “you mean sparkles?”
“sparkles! yes! i wanted our memories to sparkle.”
you hug him, and he practically vibrates with joy—arms tight, face buried in your shoulder.
⋆⁺₊❅.
riseki heisuke
he’s standing stiffly outside your door, clutching a bag as if it might escape.
“come in,” you giggle, pulling him inside.
he clears his throat, trying to act cool. “i brought you something.”
it’s a set of matching gloves — his and yours. soft, warm, perfect.
“heisuke, these are adorable.”
he turns red. “i just… wanted us to match.”
you slip yours on and lift your hands. “we do now.”
his smile is so big it knocks the air out of you.
he hugs you tight, burying his face against your neck, muttering,
“i like seeing us together.”
⋆⁺₊❅.
akagi michinari
akagi practically falls through your doorway, yelling, “DON’T OPEN IT UNTIL I SAY SO— wait no you can open it i’m prepared i swear—”
what you find is a tiny, intricately folded paper bouquet — dozens of little flowers, all different colors.
“michinari… these are beautiful.”
“thank you! i stayed up all night folding them! my fingers are dead but it was worth it!”
you laugh, curling your fingers around his. “you’re ridiculous in the best way.”
he flushes, then hugs you with all the enthusiasm of a golden retriever hopped up on holiday spirit.
“i’m really happy you like it,” he whispers into your shoulder.
n: i miss my book.. it’s like he can sense that it’s the only thing terthering me to him.
i like to think the inarizaki 2nd yrs routinely play a game of rock-paper-scissors before going to vb practices n whoever loses has to buy snacks for all 4 of them
atsumu ; chews on everything. its such a pet peeve to everyone else but you somehow. chews on everything like its got answer. its really dumb, but kind of endearing in a way. he always needs something in his mouth, pencaps, straw ends, hoodie strings.
osamu ; lets you have the first bite of everything. no matter how excited he is about the food, how expensive or scarce, he always lets you have the best, and the first bite. he acts like it’s no big deal, but it is. he’ll even rotate the plate to angle the best part toward you, like you wouldn’t notice.
kita ; fixing things that arent his. he quietly straightens someone’s collar, or pluck the dandruff out of their hair without asking. doesnt call attention to it, he just does it like its the natural thing to do. doesn’t call attention to it, doesn’t expect anything back. like its just the way things are.
suna ; holds back his laughs. he very rarely laughs big like either of the miya twins, and doesnt have a naturally quiet laugh like kita. he just smirks, looks down, and exhales through his nose, or lets out a breathy chuckle. covers his mouth with the back of his hand and looks away.
aran ; pacemaker. always waits for everyone to keep up, even if it means he’s a couple steps behind everyone else. doesnt want to leave anyone behind. turns his head back mid-walk just to check no one got left behind. never hurries anyone, never complains.
ginjima ; brings an extra pair of everything. extra pencils, extra snacks, extra change. never asks to be repaid, either. just wordlessly passes it to whoever needs it without any fuss. if someone needs something he doesnt have, he’ll start bringing that, too.
akagi ; remembers weirdly specific stuff. will question you if you start using a different font on instagram, or if you start holding your pencil a different way. the littlest things you never noticed, but also somehow misses if you got a haircut or got new glasses. “you used to dot your i’s with circles. when’d you stop?”
you're stuck in a time-loop where the same day repeats. | inarizaki crackfic
-
By the seventh loop, you stopped believing in free will.
By the eighth, you stopped believing in God.
By the ninth, you stopped believing in the structural integrity of Inarizaki High’s gymnasium.
The day always started the same.
You woke up, checked your phone. 7:12 am.
Same date. Same time. Same weather forecast.
Same message from the volleyball club group chat.
Atsumu: who took my gym shorts
Osamu: me. die mad.
Aran: Please don't start.
You stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then you screamed into your pillow.
You get ready for school. For the ninth time.
By now, you knew the routine too well. The first period quiz. The girl in front of you dropping her eraser at exactly 9:14. The lunch special selling out before Ginjima could buy it. Atsumu loudly claiming he was “a growing boy” despite stealing half of Osamu’s lunch.
And then, inevitably, volleyball practice. The crime scene.
The gym doors stood in front of you like the gates of hell. You recall the original timeline, before the looping.
Back when you were innocent.
Back when you thought all you had to do was bring the clean towels to the gym, hand them off, maybe help with a few manager duties, and go home.
-
You opened the gym doors.
“Tsumu! Yer freakin’ gross, give it back!”
“I don’t have it!”
“Yer literally wearin’ it!”
“I don’t even know what yer sayin’!”
“Yer wearin’ my socks, ya stinker!”
“Shut yer trap, ’Samu! You stink, not me!”
They start fighting.
Aran stood between them, hands raised, looking like a man who had aged ten years since lunch. Ginjima hovered nearby, concerned and unfortunately within range. Suna, of course, was already recording.
Because apparently, when God gave Suna Rintarou a phone, He also removed his ability to mind his business.
You had paused at the entrance, towel basket balanced against your hip. “Should I come back later?” you're unfazed and literally did not give a gaf.
“No,” Aran said immediately.
You had decided, wisely, that this was none of your business. You were simply going to set the towels down and leave.
Unfortunately, Ginjima tried to help.
“Maybe we should all calm—”
Osamu took off his shoe.
“If yer gonna steal my socks,” Osamu said, lifting the shoe, “then lemme give ya somethin’ else.”
Maybe Osamu should switch to baseball because it's like a seasoned baseball athlete possessed his body.
Atsumu dodged.
But Ginjima did not.
The shoe hit Ginjima directly in the face.
Then like a domino-
Ginjima stumbled backward into Aran. Aran, for all his build and height, bumped into the ball cart. The ball cart tilted and volleyballs scattered everywhere.
Then Akagi, who for some reason had chosen that exact moment to walk in while drinking, stepped on one.
His foot slipped and the bottle went flying. It splashed across the floor. Several volleyballs rolled directly through the puddle.
The entire gym went silent.
You stared at the wet, sticky disaster spreading across the floor.
“Is that Gatorade?” you asked weakly, already feeling the ache in your shoulders at the thought of cleaning.
Akagi's horrified expression is enough confirmation.
Then the gym door opened. Kita Shinsuke stepped inside.
The silence became religious. His gaze moved across the gym slowly.
Ginjima holding his face.
Aran standing beside the overturned ball cart.
Akagi on the floor in a puddle of suspicious sports drink.
Atsumu pointing at Osamu.
Osamu missing one shoe.
Suna still recording.
And you, standing in the middle of it all with a basket of clean towels, wondering if it was too late to transfer schools.
Kita blinked once.
“Practice starts in five minutes,” he said. "Clean this up.”
It look longer than five minutes.
That was the original timeline.
No practice happened that day.
You got home tired and passed out. Morning came, it's 7:12 am (wow! you woke up the same time twice in a row) and you opened the group chat.
Atsumu: who took my gym shorts
Osamu: me. die mad.
Aran: Please don't start.
Again? Had those two learned nothing from yesterday? You replied-
You: are you two stupid or dumb
You decide to just go on about your day. Whatever. You're not cleaning up for them again.
But everything felt wrong.
No. Not wrong. Familiar. Like a neverending deja vu.
The first period quiz was the same. The girl in front of you dropped her eraser. The lunch special sold out. Atsumu stole half of Osamu’s lunch.
By the time you stood in front of the gym doors, a cold feeling had settled in your stomach. The basket of towels in your arms suddenly felt too heavy.
From inside, you heard it.
“Tsumu! Yer freakin’ gross, give it back!”
What the hell.
Everything was the same.
The twins near the benches. Aran between them. Ginjima in the danger zone. Suna on the floor, phone out, because of course he was. The ball cart waiting ominously to the side. Akagi nowhere in sight yet, which somehow made him feel more like a threat.
No doubt about it, this is the exact scene that happened yesterday. Yeah no... maybe you hallucinated it- or you're psychic and you saw this happen in your dream. That's the only explanation (yeah cuz being psychic made more sense than somehow reliving the same day).
Regardless of the logic, you do whatever anyone would do in your position: prevent the chaos.
Your eyes snapped to Ginjima.
Osamu took off his shoe.
“Ginjima, move!”
Startled, he stumbled to the left.
For one glorious second, you thought you had done it.
You had changed fate.
Then the shoe hit the wall, bounced off the edge of the bench, ricocheted against the metal frame of the ball cart, and came directly toward you (how the hell does a shoe ricochet??)
It hit you in the forehead.
You went down. The towel basket went up.
Clean towels exploded into the air like confetti at the world’s worst celebration.
And Akagi enters with a drink in hand. And this time, instead of a ball, he slips on a towel.
Oh you've got to be kidding me-
Gatorade spills across the floor and onto the towels.
Kita Shinsuke steps inside. And you once again had to clean up.
But it didn't end.
You'd think you learned your lesson after each loop, but not even transcending time can prevent whatever trouble the Inarizaki high boy's volleyball team get into.
The third loop, you warned Aran.
Sweet, responsible Aran took your warning seriously, which only meant he was standing closer when Osamu threw the shoe.
Ginjima was spared.
Aran was not.
The fourth loop, you hid the ball cart.
Akagi still tripped.
You still don't understand how.
The fifth loop, you tried to hide Akagi's gatorade before practice.
Akagi showed up with a new one.
Each loop was as unsuccessful as the last.
Thus you find yourself in the ninth loop.
The shoe was the problem. Every loop, Osamu threw his shoe. Every loop, something terrible happened because of it. Therefore, logically, if there was no shoe, there would be no disaster.
It was simple. How did you not thought of that before? Several time-loops don't make you a seasoned strategist. You are just a volleyball manager.
You had barely managed to hide Osamu’s shoes behind the equipment closet when the arguing started.
“Where the hell are my shoes?” Osamu demanded.
Atsumu, who had absolutely done several things wrong, was actually innocent this time “Why’re ya lookin’ at me?”
“Because yer face looks guilty by default.”
“Yer ugly by default!”
Suna took out his phone.
“Suna,” you said, without looking at him, “don’t record this angle. The lighting is bad.”
“what"
You don't bother explaining. Maybe you really nailed it this time. No shoe, no problem. It was such an easy solution. Then Osamu picks up a water bottle.
Your stomach dropped.
As Osamu threw the bottle, you channelled all the reflexes within you and reached out.
I can't believe it.
You caught it.
You lift your hand up and held the bottle in the air in victory.
I can't believe it-
The cap loosened and water spills all over your hair.
Then the gym door opens. Kita steps inside.
Yeah you finally lost your mind.
By the tenth loop (double digits what the actual heck is this luck), you cornered Kita and dragged him to the gym. He always arrived after the disaster already struck. Maybe if he came in earlier, he could stop it at the Miyas simply biting each others' ankles.
“Kita-san. I need you to listen to me very carefully.”
“Alright.”
“In exactly thirty seconds, Osamu is going to accuse Atsumu of stealing his socks.”
“Did he?”
“That’s not the point. I’m trapped in a time loop.”
“I see.”
“You believe me?”
“No.”
“Then why are you listening?”
“'Cause ya look like ya haven’t slept in several days.”
You werent paying attention and for some reason you get hit in the head with Osamu's shoe.
The next time you open your eyes- its the morning. 7:12 am. fucking-
You’ve known the Miya twins for as long as you can remember. They were the loudest boys on the playground, all scuffed knees and sunburned cheeks, their laughter carrying across the schoolyard like a war cry. Atsumu, the loudmouth with a cocky grin that drove teachers insane, and Osamu, the quieter one who always seemed two seconds away from dragging his brother out of trouble. You were caught in the middle—sometimes willingly, sometimes not—but you never complained. Being with them was easy. Natural. Like breathing.
“Yer too slow!” Atsumu had whined once, standing at the edge of the sandbox with his hands on his hips while you struggled to keep up. “Then go ahead without me!” you’d huffed, kicking sand in his direction, cheeks flushed and breathless.
But he never did.
No matter how many times you fell behind, no matter how many times Osamu rolled his eyes and threatened to leave you both behind, Atsumu always waited. And somehow, that pattern never changed.
Years passed. Middle school turned into high school. The three of you didn’t hang out as much anymore—between club activities, exams, and life pulling you in different directions, it was harder to find the time. But you still showed up. For them.
You never missed a game, sitting in the stands with Osamu’s mom and cheering as loud as the rest of the Inarizaki fans. You watched Atsumu serve with impossible precision, eyes narrowing with focus before the ball left his hand. You watched Osamu spike with terrifying accuracy, his smirk barely contained afterward. You were proud of them both, proud to see them rise, proud to be part of the crowd that supported them.
“Yer comin’ to the next match, right?” Atsumu asked one afternoon after practice, leaning against the fence with his bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was damp, a few stray strands sticking to his forehead, and his uniform was loose, hanging casually over his broad frame. The sun was dipping lower, casting warm orange hues across the field where a few stragglers still kicked a soccer ball around. You glanced up from your phone, pretending to be nonchalant. “I always do, don’t I?” His grin stretched wide—cocky and confident, just like always—but there was something in his eyes. Something… uncertain. Hidden beneath the bravado. “Just checkin’.” He kicked at the dirt, scuffing his sneaker against the pavement. “Ya don’t gotta, y’know. Betcha got better things to do than watch us all the time.”
Osamu was the one who noticed it first, the subtle shift in Atsumu’s behavior. It was after another win, and the three of you had gone out to grab a bite. Atsumu was unusually quiet, barely picking at his food while you and Osamu bickered over the best dipping sauce for karaage. “Oi,” Osamu had muttered under his breath when you went to the counter to grab more napkins. “What’s with ya?”
“Nothin’,” Atsumu had mumbled, poking at his plate, but Osamu’s eyes had narrowed. “Ya never shut up. Now yer quiet? Somethin’s up.”
“Nothin’s up,” Atsumu insisted, but Osamu didn’t look convinced. He shot his brother a look but didn’t press further. Later that night, as you waved goodbye and promised to see them at the next game, Osamu lingered behind. “He’s actin’ weird,” he muttered, watching Atsumu walk ahead. “Ya notice?”
You had laughed, brushing it off. “When isn’t he weird?”
It wasn’t until you started talking about someone else—Takahiro, a guy from your class—that things started to change. He was smart, funny, and polite in a way that seemed almost too perfect. You didn’t even realize how often you were mentioning him—how your eyes lit up when you talked about how he made you laugh during group projects, how he texted you after class to ask if you understood the material. At first, Atsumu barely reacted. Just a quirk of his brow and a half-hearted, “Huh. Cool.” But then it happened again. And again. And suddenly, Takahiro’s name was slipping into conversations more often than not, and Atsumu noticed. Every. Single. Time.
He didn’t say anything to you about it. But he did talk to Osamu.
“He likes her, don’t he?” Atsumu had muttered one afternoon, his voice low, barely audible as they sat in the back of the gym after practice. His knees were drawn up, elbows resting loosely on them while he picked absentmindedly at the tape around his fingers, pulling at the frayed edges like they held the answers to his problems.
Osamu raised a brow, glancing sideways at his brother. “Who? Takahiro?” His tone was neutral, but the way he looked at Atsumu was anything but.
“Yeah.” Atsumu’s jaw clenched as he peeled another strip of tape from his skin, eyes fixed on the floor. “She’s always talkin’ about him lately. Laughin’ at his dumb jokes. Her face lights up when she talks about him.”
“Since when do ya pay attention to that kinda thing?” Osamu’s tone was teasing, but there was something careful underneath it, something that probed deeper.
“I don’t.” Atsumu’s answer was too fast, too defensive. His fingers stilled against his knee, tape forgotten as he shifted, posture rigid.
Osamu tilted his head, watching his brother closely. “Right.” Silence stretched between them for a beat, thick and unspoken. “So, why do ya care?”
“I don’t.” Atsumu’s voice was quieter this time, almost too quiet. But his jaw was tight, his eyes dark with something Osamu didn’t need to ask about.
Osamu exhaled softly, leaning back and folding his arms behind his head. “Yer full of shit, y’know.” He didn’t push, didn’t ask any more questions. But his words lingered in the air, hanging heavy between them. Atsumu didn’t respond, and Osamu let it go—for now. But the silence that followed spoke louder than anything Atsumu could’ve said.
You started noticing the shift after that. Atsumu was different—quieter around you, shorter with his words. His usual sharp remarks didn’t carry the same playful edge anymore. They were clipped, like he was forcing himself to stay distant. At first, you thought he was just tired. Volleyball took its toll, and with nationals approaching, it wasn’t unusual for the entire team to be running on fumes. But this was different. His usual warmth was gone, replaced by something colder, something heavier that settled in the pit of your stomach. His eyes didn’t linger on you the way they used to, and when they did, there was something in them you couldn’t place. Frustration? Hurt? You weren’t sure, but it left a bad taste in your mouth.
It all came to a head during the next game.
It was an intense match—one where every point mattered, the air thick with anticipation. You were in your usual spot in the stands, cheering louder than most of the crowd, but this time… you weren’t alone. Takahiro was beside you, leaning in close, his shoulder brushing yours as he whispered something in your ear that made you laugh. You didn’t notice the way Atsumu’s eyes flicked toward you, sharp and fleeting, but he saw it. He saw the way you smiled—soft and genuine, eyes crinkling at the corners—and it knocked the air out of his lungs.
It burned.
Atsumu’s jaw tightened, his fingers curling a little too tightly around the ball as he lined up his serve. He tried to shake it off, to focus on the game, but your laugh echoed louder than the roar of the crowd in his ears. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, faster, harder, until it drowned out everything else. The whistle blew. He tossed the ball, went through the motions—but his mind wasn’t in it. His focus was shattered, replaced by a tangled mess of emotions he didn’t know how to deal with.
The ball sailed too far.
Out of bounds.
By a mile.
The murmur that rippled through the crowd was deafening in his ears. Atsumu’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt, his teeth grinding together as he forced himself to breathe through the frustration. He didn’t look at you after that. He couldn’t. But he felt it—your eyes on him, concern etched into your features, even as you turned back to Takahiro. The tension settled like a weight in his chest, suffocating and inescapable.
Throughout the rest of the game, Atsumu was off. His sets were technically perfect, but they lacked their usual precision. His timing was a second too late, his movements a little too forced. The fire that usually burned in his veins, the one that made him relentless on the court, was barely a flicker. And no one noticed but Osamu.
“Get yer head outta yer ass, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu muttered under his breath during a timeout, his voice low enough that only Atsumu could hear. “Yer messin’ up, and I know why.”
Atsumu didn’t respond, eyes locked on the floor, jaw clenched. But Osamu wasn’t done. “If ya don’t fix it, we’re gonna lose. And if we do, it’s on you.”
By some miracle, Inarizaki still scraped by with a win—but barely. Atsumu was the first one off the court when the final whistle blew, not bothering to stick around as the team lined up to thank the crowd. His skin was crawling, frustration boiling beneath the surface as he tore off his sweat-soaked jersey and tossed it into his bag. He needed to clear his head. He needed to breathe.
And you? You noticed.
“Where’s Atsumu?” you asked, concern lacing your voice as you turned to Osamu while everyone congratulated the team. Osamu’s eyes flickered toward the gym, his expression neutral but his tone softer than usual. “Needed some air,” he muttered, his voice quiet but knowing. “Ya know how he gets.” And that was all it took.
Your chest tightened. Something told you this wasn’t just about a bad game.
“Oi, Miya!” Takahiro’s voice broke through the hum of post-game chatter as he stepped forward, flashing a bright smile. “Hell of a match out there. You guys pulled through in the end.” His words were polite, his tone smooth, but the second they left his mouth, the atmosphere shifted.
Ginjima, who was standing nearby, narrowed his eyes, barely masking his distaste as he gave Takahiro a once-over. His lips pressed into a thin line, and for a second, it looked like he was about to say something. "So, ya think—"
But before he could finish, Aran stepped in, his usual easy-going demeanor firming up as he gave Takahiro a curt nod.
“Thanks,” Aran cut in smoothly, his tone polite but clipped just enough to send a message. “Appreciate it.”
Takahiro, oblivious to the silent exchange, just smiled and gave a thumbs-up. “No problem. You guys really pulled through.”
You felt the tension rolling off Ginjima, and even Kita’s usually neutral expression was unreadable as his eyes flickered between Takahiro and the team.
You lingered with the team for a little while longer, standing by Aran as he exchanged a few polite words with Takahiro, who was blissfully unaware of the underlying tension. You nodded along, adding the occasional "yeah" or "for sure" as Takahiro talked about how intense the game had been and how impressed he was by Inarizaki's performance. But your mind was elsewhere.
Atsumu’s absence gnawed at you. The way he’d left the court so quickly, the frustration rolling off of him in waves—it didn’t sit right. Something was wrong, and no matter how much you tried to focus on the conversation happening around you, the pit in your stomach wouldn’t go away.
Eventually, as the crowd began to thin out and the post-game buzz started to fade, Takahiro turned to you with that same easy smile. "We’re all gonna grab something to eat after. You coming?"
You hesitated, your heart tugging you in a different direction. "Hey… I think I’m gonna head home," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m kinda tired."
Takahiro’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering across his face. "You sure? We were all gonna hang out for a bit."
“Yeah, I’m sure,” you replied, offering him a quick, reassuring smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright… text me when you get home, yeah?"
“Of course.”
But you had no intention of going home.
As Takahiro rejoined the group, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd without a second glance. Your feet moved on instinct, carrying you back toward the gym, where you knew exactly where Atsumu would be. Something gnawed at your gut, telling you this wasn’t just about a bad game. You could feel it, a weight settling in your chest, making it hard to breathe.
As you got closer to the gym, the familiar sound of volleyballs slamming against the floor echoed through the quiet night. The steady thump reverberated through the empty halls, each hit carrying a frustration that was almost palpable. Your steps slowed as you approached the entrance, the muffled grunts of effort and the sharp sound of rubber meeting wood growing louder with each step.
When you reached the doorway, you stopped, heart hammering in your ears as you took in the sight before you. Atsumu was there, just as you’d known he would be. Sweat dripped from his forehead, his hair damp and sticking to his skin. His jersey was clinging to his back, soaked through, and the gym floor was littered with scattered volleyballs, some rolling lazily across the surface after missed targets. But Atsumu wasn’t slowing down.
His jaw was clenched, his eyes locked on an invisible target as he tossed another ball into the air, his muscles flexing as he jumped, body coiling with raw power. The crack of the ball echoed through the gym as it slammed into the floor, and a grunt of frustration escaped his lips, reverberating off the walls.
You stood there, frozen for a moment, watching him pour every ounce of frustration and anger into each serve. He didn’t notice you. Not yet.
“You're gonna break the damn floor at this rate.”
Your voice echoed across the empty gym, but Atsumu didn’t stop. He tossed another ball into the air, his muscles flexing as he jumped, slamming it with a grunt that reverberated off the walls. The ball ricocheted off the floor and hit the back wall with a loud thud. His breathing was heavy, shoulders rising and falling with each ragged inhale.
“Go home.” His voice was clipped, laced with exhaustion and something sharper. He didn’t turn to look at you, eyes locked on the next ball he was already lining up.
“Atsumu,” you said softly, stepping further into the gym. “Talk to me.”
“There’s nothin’ to talk about.” He tossed the ball, and another loud thwack echoed through the gym as the ball hit the floor. “Go home.”
But you didn’t move.
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” Your voice was firmer this time, crossing your arms as you stood your ground. But then, as Atsumu lined up another ball, ready to serve, you couldn’t take it anymore. Your feet moved before your brain caught up, and you stepped forward, planting yourself right in front of him.
“Atsumu, stop.”
His eyes widened in surprise, the ball still gripped tightly in his hand, but you didn’t back down. You stood your ground, heart pounding as you met his gaze head-on.
“Move,” he muttered, his voice low, but there was no real heat behind it.
“No,” you said firmly, your voice unwavering. “I’m not moving until you talk to me.”
“Why even bother?” His voice was sharper now, but there was something raw beneath the anger. “Go back to yer boyfriend. Bet he’s waitin’ for ya.”
You blinked, stunned by the venom in his words. “Boyfriend? You mean Takahiro?”
“Yeah, him.” He finally turned, eyes blazing with something you couldn’t quite place—hurt, frustration… jealousy? “Bet he’s real smitten with ya, sittin’ in the stands, watchin’ ya smile at him like that.”
Your brows furrowed, confusion flashing across your face. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t play dumb,” Atsumu snapped, his voice rising. “I saw ya. Laughin’ at his jokes, lettin’ him get close. Ya looked real happy. Real fuckin’ happy.”
“That’s what this is about?” Your voice sharpened, anger bubbling to the surface. “You’re pissed because I was talking to Takahiro?”
“Oh, I dunno,” Atsumu drawled, his tone dripping with mock sweetness as he dropped the ball and crossed his arms. “‘Takahiro’s so nice,’” he mimicked, his voice going higher, mimicking yours in an exaggerated, sing-song way. “‘Takahiro helped me with my assignment.’ ‘Takahiro said the funniest thing today.’” He scoffed, his expression darkening as he took a step closer, his eyes flashing with something dangerously close to jealousy. “Ya never shut up about him.”
If you weren't pissed before, you sure as hell were now.
Your jaw clenched, heat rushing to your face as your hands balled into fists at your sides. “What the hell is your problem?”
“What’s my problem?” He let out a bitter laugh, eyes narrowing. “Maybe I’m just sick of listenin’ to ya gush about him like he hung the damn moon.”
“Are you serious right now?!” You raised your voice, the frustration bubbling over. “You’re actin’ like a damn child, Atsumu!”
“Maybe I am!” Atsumu’s voice shot up, matching yours as his face flushed with anger. He stepped forward, closing the distance between you, his eyes locked on yours with a heat that made your pulse race. “But at least I’m not the one actin’ blind to what’s right in front of me!”
“Blind to what?!” You threw your hands in the air, voice sharp and cutting as you took a step toward him, closing the space between you until there was barely any room left. Your chest brushed his as you tilted your chin up to meet his fiery gaze. “Why do you even care so much, Atsumu?!”
“Why do I care?!” He was practically towering over you now, his breath hot and ragged as his jaw clenched, his eyes burning with frustration. “Because ya never stop talkin’ about him! ‘Takahiro this, Takahiro that!’ It’s all I ever fuckin’ hear!”
“Maybe I wouldn’t if you didn’t act like you don’t give a damn about me!” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t back down, standing your ground even as the tension between you became suffocating.
“I don’t give a damn?!” Atsumu’s voice was louder now, the frustration bleeding into his tone as he stepped even closer, his chest brushing against yours. “You’re the one who’s been actin’ like I’m invisible! Like I’m just—just some guy while yer out there with him!”
“Then why didn’t you say something?!” You screamed, voice echoing through the gym, your frustration boiling over. Your hands were trembling now, knuckles white from how hard you were clenching them at your sides. “Why do you even care so much?!”
“Because I love you!”
The words erupted from him, loud and raw, his voice breaking as the confession echoed through the gym and filled the space between you. His chest heaved, his face flushed from a mix of anger and desperation, and his eyes—wide, vulnerable, and filled with something you hadn’t seen before—were locked onto yours.
You froze, the weight of his words crashing down like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless, your heart pounding in your ears. The world went silent, and for the first time since you’d stepped into that gym, neither of you had anything left to say.
Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you stared at him, his chest still heaving from the force of his confession. The air felt thick, suffocating, as your mind raced to process what he had just said. Seconds stretched on, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t.
Then, without thinking, without giving yourself a chance to second-guess it, you stepped forward. Your eyes locked on his, your expression unreadable, and before he could say another word, you grabbed the front of his jersey, yanking him down.
"You’re so fucking stupid," you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear.
And then you kissed him.
It wasn’t soft or hesitant. It was fierce, fueled by weeks—no, months—of pent-up frustration, confusion, and feelings you had pushed down for far too long. Your lips crashed into his, and Atsumu froze for half a second before he was kissing you back with just as much desperation. His hands found your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and the world around you blurred until nothing else existed.
The anger, the yelling, the unspoken words—they all melted away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in the heat of the moment, finally giving in to everything you’d both been too stubborn to admit.
