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Kiyoomi hadnโt known what to expect his first year at the All Japan Youth Training camp. He made himself a name in the world of volleyball during his middle school years so it was an honor to be there.
Especially to be surrounded by talented players - Ushijima Wakatoshi being one of them. Mixed in with these bunch of talented players were also the Miya Twins. Atsumu and Osamu - forces of their own not to be trifled with - first years, just like him.
He discovers Osamu to be skilled as a spiker even when he wasnโt paired with his twin but he hated to admit that he often found his gaze drifting to the blond who was nearly always by his side.
Atsumu was an enigma on his own - unphased that heโs a first year and demanded perfection from everyone around him.
Including Kiyoomi.
Sakusa could admit he was attracted to the setter, piss blond hair and all - at least until Miya opened his fucking mouth.
โYouโre setting it too high Miya.โ He grits out after another failed attempt at spiking Atsumuโs set.
Atsumu lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face - Kiyoomiโs eyes flickered to the exposed tanned skin โWhatโs the point of having those long ass arms if ya canโt reach high tosses?โ He snarks.
Kiyoomi bristled โIf you tossed where I could reach we wouldnโt have this problem.โ
The blond tsks โIf ya canโt hit my sets then get out of the way because thereโs someone who can.โ He looks over Kiyoomiโs shoulder where Osamu was watching them - glare pointed at Sakusa.
โAgain.โ Kiyoomi demands never one to be outdone.
They never spoke off the court - Atsumu sticking close to his twin while Sakusa found friendship in Ushijima. But Kiyoomi couldnโt seem to keep his attention off the setter.
Why?
Because of the stupid fucking clothes he wore when he wasnโt practicing.
Atsumu liked wearing oversized shirts and it was driving Sakusa crazy. He was particularly favoring a heather gray hoodie that nearly covered his shorts with sleeves that hung off his hands giving him sweater paws.
He learned the hoodie was Osamuโs - a small, small part of him had been relieved that it wasnโt a boyfriends.
โStop wearing my shit ya scrub, ya got yer own clothes.โ Osamu says annoyance evident on his face.
โYa know this is my favorite Samu. And ya saw me pack it ya asshole!โ
At first glance the twins didnโt look much different in size but if you look close enough - like Kiyoomi had - you could spot that Osamu was much broader than his twin, with wide shoulders strengthened by no doubt years of spiking.
While Atsumu was much leaner, flexible from the impressive sets he conjures up, thighs thick and muscular.
Similar but oh so different at the same time.
It didnโt stop with the hoodie - most of Atsumuโs t shirts never truly fit him usually large enough to fall off his shoulder revealing freckled skin that had Kiyoomi itching to reach out and touch.
Of course Sakusa did nothing but attempt to be subtle about his staring - if Miya noticed, he didnโt say anything. He couldnโt say the same about Osamu who watched him like a hawk.
Training camp came to an end without any other incidents. Miya continued driving him up the wall in more ways than one and he was desperate to return home where he didnโt have to see the golden boy in oversized clothes.
Sakusa was waiting outside the training center, waiting for his parents to come and pick him up when he hears that familiar kansai accent call out his name โOmi-Omi!โ
He cringes at the nickname but turns anyways to Atsumu whoโs approaching him wearing that fucking hoodie โSee ya at Nationals?โ He asks waving sweater paw hand, smile bright and sunshine like โCanโt wait to kick yer ass!โ
Kiyoomi didnโt have time to respond when Osamu starts tugging his twin along โLetโs go idiot before we miss our bus.โ
And just like that Atsumu is pulled away but not before glancing over his shoulder to smile once more at Kiyoomi.
How dare he make Howl look gorgeous. He's supposed to look like a mess because he's just that dramatic. I can't imagine any other Howl now. I'm going to reread the book and enjoy imagining this very handsome man full on tackling the Witch of the Waste. I'll be watching the Studio Ghibli film and it'll be this man carrying Sophie across the sky and waiting for her for a decade to break his curse. Beautiful.
So. I donโt know how often I get to say this but Howlโs Moving Castle is genuinely one of my favorite books, if not my favorite of all time. I fell in love with that stupid Welsh idiot when I was seventeen and whenever Iโm having a truly awful day Iโll get it out and reread it for the umpteenth time just so I can relive the absolute mess of a love story that lives in those pages.
The Howl for the Studio Ghibli movie never sat quite right with me. They got the style more or less right, I felt, but the voice was off and he just seemed either too much or not enough. Maybe both at the same time. I donโt know, the bishounen look never matched the kind of rogueish charm I thought Howell Jenkins was meant to have.
This, though. God this fits. This fits so incredibly well. The sly smiles, the casual flirtatious looks, the Presence, the grooming. The open shirt with the necklace, the long dreads, the septum piercing. This is what a 20 something thaumatics student at a Welsh college thinks a wizard looks like and damned if heโs not going to live up to the part. This is what a wizard whoโs got a foot in two worlds and is straddling the line looks like. This is what a man looks like when he falls in love with someone under a curse and realizes the magic was the least of his worries.
I love this. Thanks for making me fall in love with Howl all over again.
