They’re at an izakaya to celebrate the start of off-season.
One too many shots in, Atsumu reveals one of his useless talents is tying a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue—a seemingly innocuous confession requited with low chuckles and curious hums.
Yaku licks his lips slowly, mischief flickering in his eyes.
Bokuto pauses mid-sentence, his mouth left hanging open for a few seconds before finally closing, then he visibly gulps.
Kageyama and Hinata exchange knowing glances at each other, a silent understanding shared between longtime partners.
Ushijima maintains a stern facade, but hidden from view, his leg starts bouncing as if a tribute to a dormant urge suddenly awakened without warning.
Aran gleams, a Cheshire grin across his handsome face. “Ya sure can,” he remarks with a smug look as he ruffles Atsumu’s hair.
Suna downs his shochu in one guzzle, cheeks heating up as if recalling a not-so-distant memory rather than from the alcohol.
Sakusa shortly excuses himself from the table to return to his room ahead of everyone else. He doesn’t get much sleep that night. (And he’s had to shower twice… for reasons too shameful to admit out loud.)
Hoshiumi begrudgingly ushers Gao to the restroom to wash the drool off his face.
Barely an hour later, Iwaizumi volunteers to walk Atsumu back even though they’re were headed to the same building. He offers to pay the tab and instructs the rest of the boys not to be too rowdy outside, then whisks Atsumu away after mumbling something along the lines of, ‘to see is to believe.’
JNT pack dynamics where Atsumu and Tobio are the only omegas in the team—
On days nearing their cycles, it’s not just the setters showing signs of pre-heat, their alpha and beta teammates manifest symptoms too.
Team trainer Iwaizumi insists he’d do their nail care routine for them before practice then treat them with a deep massage after.
Captain Ushijima maintains his usual calm aplomb but will silently hover around the two omegas wherever they go, staying on guard and letting his mere presence serve as a warning (threat) to anyone who dares make their approach.
Vice captain Bokuto scents their omegas to ward off unwanted lurkers, shooting sharp glares at strangers who look their way with veiled intentions. (Fans call it his ‘dark mode’)
Komori and Hinata are the designated collectors who gather everyone’s used clothes—the stronger the stench, the better—and pile them on a vacant bed which they use as a staging area. (The omegas get the final pick which pieces of clothing end up in their nests, of course)
Suna and Aran who normally initiate banter at Atsumu’s expense turn defensive and switch on protective mode, quick to throw hands at anyone making jokes about Atsumu.
Hoshiumi and Yaku alternate sending Gao and Hakuba to run errands and buy treats from specialty stores.
Sakusa becomes more sensitive to pheromones, persistently ridding any foreign scent from the two—especially with Atsumu.
And all of them—every single one, alpha or beta—grow needy and desperate in seeking attention from their feisty but darling omega setters.
Atsumu tends to self-isolate when he’s despondent or deeply distressed. Perhaps it’s precisely because of the fact that had he’s developed his… jinx.
Some foreign player hears about the infamous reputation of the Miya twins in high school and half jokes about Osamu quitting volleyball because he can’t stand his twin, an old classic jab Atsumu has heard too many times before, really, so Atsumu shrugs it off as usual with a forced laugh and an insincere retort.
They go along their merry way and guzzle up drinks with team they had annihilated on court for a practice earlier, the low blow long forgotten by everyone but the person slighted albeit the amount of alcohol consumed until dawn.
The next morning, a loud shrill awakens the entire floor, eleven volleyball players gather towards the commotion.
“Miya, please- it’s like 10am. At least let me sleep until noon,” Yaku grunts through the rhythmic throbbing of his head.
Behind him, Iwaizumi yawns lazily and joins the group.
“Yakkun, Zumi-kun! Taihen!” Bokuto bounces up and down.
The crying comes to an abrupt stop and they turn towards the bedroom from where the noise originated, and it takes a few seconds for their sleep-addled brains to register the scene in front of them: a toddler hiccuping between wet sobs as his tiny head pokes out of the fuzzy peach sweater Atsumu had slept in the night prior, honey brown eyes glazed with tears while he clutches the sheets around his small body.
The 29-year old setter nowhere to be found in the room.
His phone starts ringing and startles the unknown child, so one of his teammates scrambles to pick up and placate the child.
“Tsumu, are ya okay? I-I had… a strange feeling. Are ya still at camp?” The voice on the other end of the line was frantically heaving, the familiar drawl of a Kansai-ben making it easy to guess to whom it belonged.
“Uh… Miya Osamu?” Wakatoshi was the chosen one urged to answer.
“What are ya- Wait, who is this? Where the hell is my brother?”
“Atsumu-kun is… not here at the moment but-“
Then the wailing resumes on their end of the line.
“Is that-“
“Uhm, Osamu-san, this is Hinata. Atsumu-san isn’t in his room right now and there’s a child that… well-“
“Oh, no. Is the kid a snotty boy with dyed blonde hair like Tsumu’s?”
Mouths fall agape as the implication of Osamu’s suggestion resounds on speaker.
“Now that you mention it, yes…”
There’s a pregnant pause on the other end of the line followed by a muffled rustling and plodding footsteps echoing through a hallway.
“Text me the address of yer hotel. I’ll be there in a few hours.”
The guys, now fully awake, blink at each other and responds with silent nods as if Osamu can see their heads bobbing.
“And whatever happens, don’t let him out of yer sight,” he says sternly, both a threat and a plea.
[Click.]
When the line disconnects, their gazes shift to the whimpering child whose interest they seem to have piqued.
“Atsumu?” Iwaizumi is the one who steps forward and makes a first approach, one arm keeping the rest of them behind him as if to protect the boy from big buff men. “Are you Atsumu?”
Little Tsumu sticks his finger in his mouth and gives him an affirming nod.
Oh.
Oh, boy.
“Ahhh, Tsumu-Tsumu is so cute!” Bokuto coos.
“Not now, Bokuto!” Yaku chides him.
“What should we do? He’s probably hungry!” Hinata panics.
“Calm down, you’ll startle him,” Kiyoomi remains unmoving as if to balance the jumpiness from the other.
“So, what’s the plan, coach?” They all look to Iwaizumi.
Iwaizumi sighs, all set to give out his orders.
Looks like they’re in for a shift in careers indefinitely—however long it takes to revert their precious setter.
Atsumu’s Halloween costume had been a hot topic in the JNT group chat for weeks, his teammates all too eager to unveil the mystery outfit before the 31st
Hina: c’mon just a hint, Tsumu-san!!!!!!
Atsu: 😋
Suna: @/OjiroAce you know, don’t you?
Atsu: Aran-kun, shh!!!
Aran: sigh… something white, like a dress
Bo: GASP
Bo: Tsum-Tsum as a bowling pin part 2??
Gao: angel Atsumu, save me 🙏
Ushi: a sexy ghost?
Omi: bunny maid Atsu…
Iwa: damn Sakusa, can’t pick just one huh?
Iwa: agree
Kags: Atsumu-san will be a pretty fairy
Hina: fairies don’t wear white dresses, Bakayama!
Kags: they can if Atsumu-san wants to, boke!
Yaku: wanna be my bride, Miya?
Omi: 🤺
[Ojiro Aran has muted the chat]
Come October 31st, Atsumu shows up to the team party wearing a skimpy nurse’s outfit, glittery sheer tights that accentuate his thighs and pointed red heels that make his calves pop. Safe to say, half of his teammates insist they need CPR from the cute medical assistant.
Iwaizumi does a roll call of his athletes, distributing their scarlet red jerseys. “Sakusa,” he yells, handing over a kit with the #15.
On cue, Sakusa emerges from the back of the line and approaches the trainer, appreciating the way his teammates make space for him to pass through.
“Huh, Sakusa? Who’s Sakusa? Omi-kun is Omi-” Atsumu clamors, genuinely perplexed, like the name he has heard is half familiar and half a mystery.
Aran chides him with a firm whack on the back (which Suna is quick to catch in his phone), and the rest of the team watch mirthfully while holding their laughters.
When Sakusa has accepted his kit, he marches back to his spot but not before purposefully passing in front of the flustered blonde and leaning in to whisper: “Calm down, baby. It’s just me,” he can’t help but tease. Then, in a hushed, breathy, low voice usually reserved for the confines of their bedroom, he promises, “One day, I’ll make sure the back of your jersey spells the same name too.”
