Archive of Our Own ^beta

At 7:23 in the morning, Atsumu was being pushed into a bush. 

“I don’t get why I can’t hang out with you and Sunarin tonight. It’s not fair!” Atsumu shouted as the branches scratched his face. He tried to stand up, but Osamu only shoved him further in. He could feel his uniform ripping. “Let me hang out with you two!” 

“Like I’ve told ya a million times, Rin and I just want some alone time. He wants to show me his new skateboard trick. Then we’re gonna go get yakisoba. And yer not fuckin’ invited, ya brat.”

“But he’s my friend, too. He’s not just your friend. Ever since he transferred to Inarizaki this year, you’ve been hoggin’ him.”

“Well maybe he just likes me more!” Osamu grabbed the front of Atsumu’s uniform, shaking him so violently, several leaves fell off of the bush and onto the ground. Nearby students stared at them in shock. “Maybe he doesn’t want to hang out with you for a reason. Maybe he thinks yer a jerk, just like the rest of the school does. Maybe that’s why you don’t have any friends, because yer head is too thick to realize how mean, selfish, loud, an’ arrogant you really are—”

Atsumu’s anger boiled over. He threw a fist up and punched his brother in the nose. But Osamu didn’t back down. He hit back twice as hard, his fists hitting Atsumu right in the chin and right in the eye. 

“Fuck you!” Osamu shouted, wiping blood from his nose. He took several steps back. “And fuck off!” 

He stormed away. Atsumu didn’t get out of the bush until several minutes later. By the time he got to school, he could already see a black eye forming. 

He thought about ignoring his brother for the entire school day, possibly until the end of time. But that was going to be extremely hard to do, as the two of them sat right next to each other in the back of their shared class.

Behind Osamu sat Suna. And while their teacher rambled on and on about English rules, Suna poked his shoulder with the cap of his pen. Poked him over and over and over. But instead of getting mad, Osamu only looked back at him with a soft smile on his face. 

Why doesn’t Sunarin annoy me like he annoys ‘Samu? Atsumu thought, his entire soul being crushed as he watched Suna laugh. Does he really not see me as a friend? 

He stared at the pen for so long, it eventually got Suna’s attention, his eyes narrowing at Atsumu.

He had a small smattering of acne on his cheeks and nose. His choppy, home-cut hair framed the sides of his face. And his eyes— his green eyes bore straight into Atsumu’s soul. 

His signature smirk slid up at the corner of his mouth— right as he raised his left hand, flipping Atsumu off. And that was the final straw. 

He threw his notebook right at Suna’s face. It hit him point blank with a loud smack, and by the time it fell, his face was already turning red from the impact. Osamu whirled on Atsumu, getting ready to yell at the top of his lungs, but the teacher beat him to it.

“Miya Atsumu.” Ebina-sensei snapped. “Principal’s office. Now.” 

“But I—” 

“No excuses.” 

With his head hung low, Atsumu stood up and made his way to the door. But still, as he walked, he could hear his classmates snickering behind him. 

“It’s because he has a crush on Suna, right?” One girl whispered to her boyfriend, unable to keep her giggles contained. “I always knew he was gay.”

“What a fucking weirdo.” 

Atsumu slammed the door behind him as a chorus of laughter broke out. And slowly but surely, he made his way down to the principal’s office. He knocked on the door twice. 

“Come in.” A man’s voice replied. Atsumu put his hand on the doorknob, took a deep breath, then stepped inside. He didn’t look up until the door had shut behind him with a firm click. 

But the weird thing was— Miura-sensei, the principal of Inarizaki High— wasn’t at the desk. Instead, there was a woman. Atsumu had never seen her in his life. In fact the whole principal’s office looked remodeled. There was new carpet, new wallpaper, new furniture. Even the view outside looked different. 

“Can I help you, Miya?” The woman asked, shuffling her papers. All of Miura-sensei’s stuff was gone. Even his name tag. 

“Yeah. I, uh. Ebina-sensei sent me down here to talk to you. I— umm–”

“Ebina? There is no Ebina who works here.” The woman raised an eyebrow, setting her papers down. “Do you mind buttoning your uniform up? It’s not correct to have the white shirt showing during school hours.”

“What buttons? Inarizaki has never had buttons on their—” 

Atsumu froze the moment he looked down. He wasn’t in the tan Inarizaki school uniform anymore. No, instead, he was wearing a dark navy blue one. It had silver buttons that ran up and down the sides. And on the pocket, faint white embroidery read Central Osaka Academy. 

He stared at it in shock until the principal cleared her throat. 

“If you don’t mind returning to class, Miya-kun, that would be greatly appreciated.” She spun back around in her swivel chair and focused on her computer. Not knowing what else to do, Atsumu opened the door and stepped outside. 

The entire hallway was different. 

A group of girls walked past him. In their hands, they were holding the largest phones Atsumu had ever seen in his life. The screens were about the size of his entire hand, and on the back, there were at least six camera lenses. He couldn’t even begin to imagine why you’d ever need that many. Not when the flip phone in his pocket only had one. 

“Should I ask Hada if she wants to go see Fast and Furious Twelve with us tomorrow night?” One of the girls asked. “She was really fun to talk to during lunch.”

Another girl in the group squealed in excitement. “Please. Please. That would be so fun!”

As they walked away, Atsumu could do nothing but stare at the wall. Fast and Furious Twelve? The fourth one had just been released a year ago. Why’d they skip so many numbers? 

He’d just checked which movies were playing in Japan that morning, too. Back when he was going to ask if Suna wanted to see a movie with him instead of hanging out with Osamu for the tenth time that week. Fast and Furious Twelve had not been one of the movies listed. 

With unease in his gut, he grabbed the shoulder of the nearest boy in the hall. 

“Hey— uh. Can I check the time on your phone?” Atsumu put on an uneasy smile. “I think I’m about to be late for something.”

“Sure, man.” The boy handed over his phone. It was October 19th. Relief sunk in his gut. It was the correct time, and the correct day. 

But then he looked at the year. Instead of it reading 2010, it read 2025. 

“2025?” He whispered, his eyes widening. “How long has it been 2025?”

“For like ten months, bro.” The boy took his phone back, narrowing his eyes at Atsumu. “Seriously, dude. It’s fine to do drugs. I do them too. But I really don’t recommend doing them in the middle of the school day. That’s not cool at all, man.” 

Atsumu didn’t hear a word he said. In fact, everything in the hall blurred to undistinguishable shapes and sounds. His heart pounded in his ears. 

He ran out of the front doors before any teacher could stop him. 

Thirty-year-old Suna was stuck in traffic. 

There had been some sort of accident at one of Osaka’s main intersections, which meant that every street was backed up for miles. He’d been on the same stretch of road for at least an hour, idling right in front of a school with the name Central Osaka Academy.

Instead of screaming, or banging his head against the steering wheel, he took a deep breath and called his husband. 

“Hi hun.” Osamu picked up. In the background, Suna could hear the hustle and bustle of Onigiri Miya. It was lunchtime, so they were likely packed. “Drop off those taxes yet?” 

“Almost.” Suna sighed. “I’m in standstill traffic. I wish I would’ve just taken the subway.” 

“That bag with my restaurant’s paperwork is too heavy, and you know it. I can’t have you straining your shoulder. Not while EJP’s season is off to such a good start.” 

“Since when the hell have you been worried about me straining my shoulder? I’m in perfect health. Except for my acid reflux. And that one mole that I need the doctor to check out. But other than that—” 

“Look, Rin. We’re not the spry, athletic kids we used to be.” Osamu lightly laughed. “If you want to stay in top shape, you just need to be more cautious. I mean it.”

Suna zoned out as his husband spoke, watching as the front doors to the high school opened. A teenage boy ran out. He couldn’t have been any older than fifteen or sixteen, and his hair was the color of piss yellow. It looked exactly like Atsumu’s hair from high school. 

For a moment, it made Suna chuckle. But the longer he stared at the kid, the more and more it actually looked like teenage Atsumu. He had the same scrawny build. Same pout on his face. Even the flip phone he pulled out of his pocket looked like his old one. 

“And then I told the customer, no, I’m not going to change the channel on the television to her kid’s favorite show. The rest of the old people in my shop love to watch the news, so I think they should get priority—” 

“‘Samu, wait.” Suna cut him off, rubbing at his eyes. But when he was done, teen Atsumu’s look-alike was still standing on the sidewalk. His lower lip was wobbling, as if he was trying not to cry. “Can I call you back?” 

“Yeah, of course. Is everything okay?” 

“I— yep.” Suna hung up. He lightly tapped his accelerator— moving the car as close as he could to the car in front of him. As close as he could get to the teen. Then, he rolled down his window. 

“Hey, kid!” He shouted. The kid didn’t look up at him. “You, with the yellow hair! You alright?” 

The kid finally looked up, anger on his face. 

“My hair is not yellow!” He yelled. “It’s blond!” 

Suna couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping wide open. Couldn’t stop staring at the teen’s face. It was teenage Atsumu. It was his hair, his voice, his acne, his scrawny arms and scrawny legs. He even had the beginnings of a black-eye, as if he’d just fought with Osamu.

“Atsumu?” Suna finally managed to choke out. Atsumu took a step back in fear. 

“How do you know my name?” 

“How do I know your name?” Suna repeated, opening his door. Atsumu took another fearful step back, so Suna stayed in the driver’s seat. The last thing he wanted to do was scare him even more. “Atsumu. It’s me. It’s me, Rin.”

“You ain’t Rin!” Atsumu shouted. “You’re old as fuck!” 

“I’m not old as fuck. I’m only thirty!” 

It was Atsumu’s turn for his jaw to drop. “Oh my god. You’re fucking ancient!” 

Despite the way Suna’s soul had just shriveled up and died, he took a deep breath, hand gripping the side of his car door. “Do you know where you are right now, Atsumu?” 

“No.” His voice broke. He started hugging himself. “I was just at Inarizaki. And I got sent to the principal’s office. And when I walked in, all of a sudden, I was at this random fucking school. And apparently, it’s 2025 now. And not 2010. And—” He hiccuped. “And you’re so old. Are you gonna die soon? ” 

Suna pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes. He himself did not have any clue what was going on— time travel was not something that had been invented yet. But he knew in his heart he couldn’t leave Atsumu alone. He was just a teen. He didn’t know Osaka, or anyone in the city, or anything about modern day life. For now, Suna could bring him back to his and Osamu’s apartment. Then they could figure out what to do next. 

Suna opened his eyes— only to look right at Atsumu. “Get in the car.” 

“Get in the car? I don’t fuckin’ know you. You’re a stranger. My momma told me to never get into a stranger’s car. And you know I listen to my momma—“

“I’m not a stranger, Atsumu.” 

“Then prove it.” He spat. 

So Suna fully got out of his car, despite the continuous honking behind him to keep moving. He pulled out his wallet and showed the kid his license, alongside a few polaroid pictures he’d carried around with him since high school. It was him, Osamu, and Atsumu— all standing on the court at nationals.

Then he pulled out his EJP jersey from his bag, and Atsumu’s eyes went wide. And once Suna handed it to him, Atsumu held it like it was worth one billion yen. 

“No way. You really went professional? For EJP?” Atsumu squeaked. He finally looked up. “That’s so cool!” 

Suna felt his heart skip a beat. To hear his job described as cool was something he hadn’t heard in years, especially not from any of his family or friends. He’d been playing professionally for over nine years. It wasn’t cool, or fresh, or new, or exciting. But the way Atsumu held the jersey like he was afraid of breaking it made Suna smile. It reminded him of what it had been like to be a third-year in high school. Of the whole world being in front of his eyes. Of how exciting that had been. 

He gently took the jersey back from Atsumu. “Do you trust me now?” 

Atsumu looked at the sidewalk, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe.” 

His stomach rumbled. Suna’s did, too. Rapidly, Suna tried to recall Atsumu’s favorite fast food from when he was younger. It had changed so much throughout the years.

“How about this.” He started, looking down into Atsumu’s eyes. Suna had several, several inches on him. He’d forgotten how short they’d been as teens. “You get in my car. We go finish the errand I was running. Then, I’ll take you to MOS Burger, and I’ll buy you whatever you like. And then I’ll take you to see Osamu.” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened at the mention of burgers, but tripled in size at the thought of seeing his brother. “ Osamu? You’re still friends with Osamu, after all these years?” 

Suna blinked, becoming very self-conscious of the wedding ring on his finger. “I— yeah, Atsumu. Of course I’m still in contact with your brother.” He turned his head to the side. “Wait— what year are you?” 

“First-year.” Atsumu answered. “‘Samu and I just turned fifteen a few weeks ago. What’s up?”

Suna froze for a moment. He and Osamu didn’t start dating until they were both sixteen, which meant fifteen-year-old Atsumu had no idea of Osamu and Suna’s relationship. He likely had no idea that they even liked each other, as they’d both been deep in the closet.

Before he could slip his wedding ring into his pocket, however, Atsumu noticed. 

“Are you married?” He half-shouted, grabbing Suna’s hand and looking at the ring. “Oh my god. Did you actually marry Masuda Sadako? That second-year? She’s all you talk about. Tonight, I was gonna try and convince you to ask her out to the culture festival. But ‘Samu told me this morning that I wasn’t invited to come hang out with you. That apparently, you only wanted him there? I don’t know if I really believe him—” 

While Atsumu rambled, Suna did his best to remember a girl from high school with the name Masuda. But he couldn’t remember anyone . It had been so long ago.

“I guess it’s okay if you didn’t marry her, though.” Atsumu kept yapping. “There’s tons of pretty girls out there. And I guess you have been alive, for like, centuries . So you’ve probably met a lot of really hot chicks. I hope you married a model. Now that would be cool as hell and—” 

Suna put his head in his hands, and still, Atsumu kept going on and on and on.

Teenagers— he grumbled. 

In Atsumu’s mind, Suna was still pretty cool to hang out with. Even if he was old as fuck. 

He drove a nice car. He showed Atsumu the best songs that had come out in the past fifteen years. He knew a fuck ton about sports. 

“And in the 2016 Olympics, Germany won women’s soccer.” Suna said, flicking his blinker on. They were waiting to turn left at an intersection. “Then Canada took home the gold in 2021. I was in Yokohomo at the time, so I got to watch.”

“Wait, why’d you say 2021?” Atsumu asked, right as Suna turned onto a new street. “The next summer Olympics would’ve been in 2020.”

“They should’ve been, but that’s the year the pandemic started.” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened, all while Suna hummed along with the radio. 

“What? ” He whispered. 

“The pandemic.” Suna looked over at Atsumu, an eyebrow quirked. But all of a sudden, he remembered who he was talking to. A teenage boy from 2010. His face paled several shades. “You know what? Nevermind.” 

“No, Sunarin. The what? What the fuck happened in—” 

Suna turned up the radio so loud, he couldn’t hear a single word Atsumu said. Not until they arrived at MOS Burger. 

“Rin—” 

Suna stopped right in the middle of opening his car door. He looked over at Atsumu with the most father-like look he’d had on his face all day, as if to say if you don’t shut up I will turn this car around right now. 

Needless to say, Atsumu didn’t bring it up again. 

They didn’t speak  until they were both sitting at a booth with their food. In front of Atsumu was a large, greasy burger and a vanilla milkshake. In front of Suna was a glass of water, alongside a soy burger wrapped in lettuce. 

“You’re lame as hell.” Atsumu slurped his milkshake. “Whenever we eat here, you and I always get the same thing. The biggest burger.” 

Suna stole one of Atsumu’s fries, holding it in between his fingers like a cigarette. “When you get older, Atsumu, your stomach changes. You can still have greasy foods. But you can’t eat them all the time like we used to.”

“Or you’ll shit your pants?” 

The corner of Suna’s mouth perked up in a smirk. “Yes. I’ll shit my pants.”

Atsumu couldn’t stop himself from laughing. To hear a thirty-year-old man say the words shit my pants was something he’d never heard before. Usually, all of the adults around him were just boring. They thought jokes like that were immature. Or if they didn’t, they never said them around Atsumu. 

“Can you tell me more about my brother?” Atsumu asked, halfway through his burger. 

“Like what?” 

“Like… is he taller than me? In the present day, I mean.”

“No, I’d say you two are about the same.” 

“Oh. Wow. I thought I’d be taller.” He sighed. “What about our hair? Are we still dyeing it the same?” 

“No, ‘Samu went back to his natural hair color. Probably back when he was twenty.” Suna snuck another fry. “But you’ve always stayed blond.”

“Like this exact shade?” 

Suna tried to bite back a laugh, but it didn’t work. “Um. No. It’s— it’s a bit more toned now.” He paused, shushing Atsumu. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll figure it out eventually.” 

At Atsumu’s last bite of his burger, he finally blurted out the one question he’d been dying to ask ever since he held Suna’s jersey. “So, my brother. What team does he play on?” 

When Suna didn’t answer, Atsumu thought he just didn’t hear him. It was kinda loud in the restaurant, anyways. 

“Does he… does he play on EJP with you?” Atsumu asked. “It’s okay if he does. And it’s okay if he doesn’t play on the same team as me. Y’know… everything can’t be perfect.” He added. Suna still didn’t respond. “Come on, Sunarin. I wanna know what team! Is it MSBY? Falcons? Adlers? Did he go play international or somethin’?”

Suna shoved the rest of his burger into his mouth. It took him over two minutes to chew it all, and when he swallowed, he stood up. 

“Why don’t you ask ‘Samu, okay?” He patted Atsumu’s shoulder, then grabbed the trash from their table. “I’m sure he’d like to be the one to tell you.” 

They went back out to the car. And twenty minutes later, they were taking an elevator up to Suna’s apartment. He lived in a high-rise in Osaka, which was super cool. Way cooler than any of their tiny townhomes back in Hyogo. 

The second they stepped inside, Suna pulled out his phone. It was one of those fancy phones he’d seen earlier— the ones with six cameras. 

“I’m going to call Osamu, okay?” He said, hanging his keys on a nearby hook. “I’ll talk to him out in the hall. Do you mind sitting on the couch until I get back? Don’t rifle through anything. Please.” 

Atsumu nodded, waiting for the door to shut behind Suna. 

The moment it did, he started snooping. 

First, he went and looked at the framed photos on the wall. One of them was of Suna and Osamu. They were both in tuxedos— their smiles wider than Atsumu had ever seen them. In Suna’s hands was a bouquet. It must’ve been his wedding. And Osamu— Osamu must’ve been the best man. 

Atsumu felt his heart crack. He was happy for his brother— for being chosen as Suna’s best man. But why couldn’t it have been him? Why did Suna always choose Osamu over him? 

He went to the next one. It was a framed picture of Osamu in some kind of restaurant. He was mopping the floors, and on his shirt, a small icon of an onigiri. Suna stood next to him in the same shirt, holding up a thumbs up. A cut red ribbon was strewn on the floor. 

The last frame on the wall was a picture of the twins. They were both in red jerseys that said Miya, and Atsumu’s heart sped up. They looked like Olympic jerseys. Atsumu could hardly believe his eyes. 

He could hardly believe how handsome he’d gotten to be, either. His hair had been toned to a very light blonde. He looked very, very strong, as well. Much stronger than Osamu looked in the picture. 

After he was done looking at the frames, he started rustling around in the kitchen. On the fridge was a small white board of chores. Each chore had either Suna or Osamu’s names written next to it. 

He’d just found two mugs that said Rintarou and Osamu on them when Suna walked back inside. His eyes immediately narrowed once he saw Atsumu in the kitchen. 

“You two are roommates!” Atsumu shouted, slamming the cabinet door. 

“I told you not to snoop!” 

“You’re the one who’s known me for fifteen years. You should’ve known by now that I wouldn’t have listened to you.” 

“Your thirty-year-old self would’ve.” He snapped back. “I forgot how annoying you were as a teen. Sit back down.” 

“If you live with Osamu, then where is your wife?” 

“Sit down. And I’ll tell you.” 

Atsumu did. And once Suna had let out the longest, most tired-adult sigh he could’ve, he spoke. 

“She’s a model. Like you guessed.” He muttered, sitting down in a small chair. “She got a really, really good modeling contract over in France. One that’ll last five years. But once she left, I got lonely, so I moved in with your brother.” 

“Oh. Well. I guess that makes sense.” 

In order to stop Atsumu from asking any more questions, Suna dug out one of his old gaming consoles from high school. The minute he plugged it in, Atsumu’s eyes widened. 

“This one doesn’t come out until next year.” Atsumu stammered. “I— 2011, I mean.” 

“Well, consider this a sneak peak. If it works, of course.” Suna had to wiggle a cord a bunch of times in order to get the audio to work. He had a faint smile on his face, though. “You and I used to play this one all the time. Lots of good memories. Here. I’ll show you your favorite game.” 

He loaded up some sort of racing game. And at first, Atsumu hated it. 

“God. This sucks .” Atsumu started cursing. Suna started laughing. “The graphics look really good. But these controls are terrible. How can anyone play this?” 

“And that’s what you said the first time we ever played this. Come on. Give it a few more rounds. It’ll grow on you.” 

But they only got to play two more. By that time, the front door was opening. 

Osamu stepped inside, looking as if he was staring into the eyes of a ghost. 

Osamu had been making onigiri when he’d gotten the call. 

“Hi, Rin.” He tucked the phone in between his shoulder and his ear— continuing to roll his rice. “Here. Let’s see. What were talking about an hour ago?” 

“There’s no time for that.” Suna’s voice was hushed, as if he was afraid of someone overhearing him. “Look. I’m about to say something that will not make any sense at all. In fact, you’re likely going to drive me to the nearest hospital for what I’m about to say. But I promise you, I’m not losing my mind.”

“Okay, okay. Go ahead. I’m not gonna judge you.”

Suna took in a deep breath. “Okay. Um. Well. I drove past a high school this morning, and standing outside was a boy who looked exactly like teenage Atsumu. And he was frightened. So I stopped to check on him. And it actually was teenage Atsumu.” He took in another deep breath. “I made him get in my car. We went and got burgers. Now he’s in our apartment. And now, I don’t know what to do.”

For several moments, Osamu couldn’t find a single word to say. He just stared at the table beneath him— his body frozen. 

“‘Samu? Are you still there?”

“I’m going to be honest, sweetie. I’m judging you. I’m judging you a lot.” He breathed. “You took some random kid from school? And fed him a burger? And now he’s in our living room?”

“It’s not some random kid. It’s Atsumu . It’s him. I swear to god it’s him. And he was scared shitless because he’s fifteen years in the future. In a city he doesn’t know. I don’t even think his flip phone is working.” Suna paused. “Osamu, at our wedding, you swore to me. You swore that you’d always be by my side. And right now, I need you to believe me. Please. Just come home. Talk to him. I can’t figure this out on my own.” 

So Osamu came home, thinking there would be a kidnapped teenager in their house. One that just looked a little like Atsumu. His game plan was going to be to put the kid back in the car, drive him back to school, then drive his husband straight to a medical professional.

But the second he laid his eyes on the kid’s face, he knew Suna was right. 

“‘Tsumu?” Osamu whispered, setting his phone and keys on the counter. Atsumu stared at him from the couch, as if to make sure that every detail on Osamu’s face was right. And once he deemed it correct, his lower lip began to wobble. Tears welled up in his eyes. “Oh. No, ‘Tsumu. Don’t cry.” 

“I can’t help it!” He burst into tears. Osamu walked forward as quickly as he could, only to stop right in front of his twin brother. His twin brother, who was now fifteen years younger than him. “I don’t understand what happened. I was at Inarizaki this morning. And we were fightin’. And I threw a notebook at Sunarin’s face. And now I’m here, in a city I don’t know. And I just want Ma, but she’s probably dead now, isn’t she?” He hysterically sobbed into his hands. “I’m not ready for Ma to be dead. Not before I say sorry to her for accidentally breaking her favorite piece of art the other day. I didn’t even tell her about it.”

“She’s not dead. She’s only fifty-seven.” Osamu knelt down in front of his brother, his heart breaking in two. Gently, he peeled his hands off his face— forcing him to look him in the eye. “Look. We’re going to figure this out, okay? We’ll get you back to 2010. So just take a deep breath, and stop cryin’.”

“I ain’t cryin’ about bein’ in the future.” Atsumu miserably said, a few stray tears falling down his face. “I’m cryin’ because you two are livin’ in an apartment without me. Why do you two get to be roommates, huh? Why am I not here? Why do you two always do everythin’ without me?” He finally ripped his hands out of Osamu’s grip, putting them back over his eyes. “It’s not fair to me. It hurts to be left out. And it hurts to know that nothin’ has changed after all this time. That y’all still don’t want anythin’ to do with me.”

Osamu tensed, looking across the room to his husband. Suna quietly pointed to his wedding ring, then mouthed he doesn’t know. 

Doesn’t know? Osamu mouthed back. Suna pointed to Atsumu, then raised all ten of his fingers. Then put one hand down. Fifteen. 

“I— ‘Tsumu, how old are you again?” Osamu asked. 

“Fifteen. I just started at Inarizaki. I’m a first-year.”

“Damn.” Osamu whispered, trying to recall back to what was going on during their first year. All he could really remember was having an extreme amount of emotions, and not knowing how to deal with any of them. He was constantly angry at Atsumu. Constantly pushing him away in order to have alone time with— 

Oh. 

He looked back up at Suna again, then back down at his brother’s head. And finally, it all made sense. Especially the half-black eye that Atsumu was currently donning. 

“You and I fought this morning, didn’t we?” 

“Yeah. Like we do every morning.” Atsumu sniffled. “I asked if I could hang out with you and Rin tonight. And you wouldn’t let me. Neither of you have let me hang out with you in weeks. And neither of you listen to me when I say I’m lonely.”

Quietly, Osamu stood up. He grabbed a small box of tissues, and a blanket, then sat down right next to his brother. He offered a tissue. Atsumu gladly took it— wiping all of his snot and tears off with one wipe. 

“Look, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu threw the blanket onto Atsumu’s shoulders, taking in a deep breath. “When I was fifteen, I was an absolute jerk to you. Rin and I both were. Right, Rin?” 

Suna was currently texting at 100 miles per hour on the other side of the room. But when Osamu cleared his throat, he looked up at Atsumu’s red face. His own expression softened. “I—yes, ‘Tsumu. We didn’t treat you like you deserved.” 

“It’ll get better, okay?” Osamu put a hand on his shoulder. “With time— as we both get older— we get closer again, okay? You and I and Rin, we all become inseparable. Just give it until your second year.”

“But I don’t want to wait until then. I want to hang out with you two now .” The corners of his mouth tugged back down into a frown. “And obviously, we aren’t close in the future, since I’m not livin’ with you two. You two get to be roommates and I probably have to live all alone—”

“We’re not roommates, ‘Tsumu.” Osamu took in a breath, realizing he was about to say something to Atsumu that he’d never had to say before. “We’re married, okay? We have been since we were twenty-two. That’s why we wanted to spend time without you when we were teens. We liked each other. From the very first day Rin started at Inarizaki. But neither of us knew how to deal with it. So we shut you out, just so we could be selfish. So we could process what our feelings meant for one another. Process what being gay meant back in 2010. In Hyogo— where other gay people were few and far inbetween.” 

Osamu choked up, feeling his eyes burn. Still, fifteen years later, the pain of coming out to himself was still so raw. 

“We didn’t handle it like we should’ve.” He eventually continued.  “We handled it badly. And I’m sorry you bore the brunt of it. And if I could go back in time and change it, I would. But I can’t. The best I can do is to say sorry, ‘Tsumu. I’ve always been sorry for how mean I was to you.”

For several minutes, Atsumu stared down at the carpet. He refused to look either of them in the eye as he processed everything Osamu had said. That his brother and his best friend liked each other romantically. So much that they’d gotten married .

“I— okay.” Atsumu eventually said, his voice weak. “I mean… maybe I can get my head around that. As long as you two are happy.”

“Very much.” Suna moved to the floor in front of Atsumu, setting his phone down next to his leg. “But I want you to know that you’re still a big part of lives, okay? Even though you don’t live with us, we still see you almost every day. At the gym. At games. At friends’ houses. Hell, we see you every day for lunch at ‘Samu’s restaurant—” 

He cut off as Osamu lightly kicked him, but by then, it was too late.

“At ‘Samu’s… what?” Atsumu croaked. 

Suna and Osamu stared at each other in horror. Neither of them could find a single word to say, which only made the situation worse. 

“At ‘Samu’s what?” Atsumu stood up, whirling on Osamu. “ Restaurant?” 

“I— It’s not what it sounds like, ‘Tsumu—” 

“I think it’s exactly what it sounds like.” Atsumu said. “Now, it’s all makin’ sense. It’s makin’ sense why Sunarin wouldn’t tell me what team you played on. Why there’s a framed picture of you two in a fuckin’ restaurant, right next to the picture of us at the Olympics.” 

He moved over to look at it again before Osamu could stop him. And dammit , the kid was way smarter than Osamu ever gave him credit for.

“We’re not wearin’ two different jerseys.” His lower lip wobbled as he took the frame off the wall. “You’re wearin’ the same number as me. You just came to watch that day, didn’t you?” 

“I—” Osamu stuttered, trying to decide if he should lie or tell the truth. But he didn’t have it in him to lie any longer. He hadn’t been able to lie about his true dream ever since he was seventeen. “I— yes, ‘Tsumu. I’m not a professional volleyball player. Not like you. I opened my own restaurant. But I swear, you’re okay with it—” 

“No the hell I’m not!” Atsumu threw the frame onto the ground. It shattered, and both Suna and Osamu winced at the noise. “I can’t handle this. I can’t . It’s all wrong!” 

Before either Osamu or Suna could move to calm him down, Atsumu’s eyes locked onto the door. And faster than a bolt of lightning, he raced towards it. Not without grabbing Osamu’s phone and slipping it into his pocket, too.

They both chased him out the door and down the hall, yelling at him to come back. But by the time Osamu had made it down seven flights of stairs, he was rapidly running out of steam. Suna was five flights ahead of him, his athleticism aiding him in keeping up with a fifteen-year-old boy with too much energy to burn. But still, he wasn’t fast enough. Atsumu was almost to the bottom. 

And then— Osamu heard a cry of pain. 

“Rin?” Osamu yelled down, panting. Black spots were in his vision. “Honey, did you get him?” 

“No.” Suna gasped in pain. He sounded like he fell onto the metal floor. “Oh my god. My knee popped out of its socket. Since when was that a thing that could happen to my body?” 

Then Osamu heard as the door at the bottom of the stairwell opened and slammed shut. 

And just like that, his fifteen-year-old brother had run away. 

Atsumu had never felt this betrayed before. 

He went to the nearest park he could find. Then he sat down on a bench and buried his face in his hands. And that’s where he fell apart. That’s where his heart broke in half. 

His brother. His twin. His supposed best friend from birth had betrayed him. They were supposed to play volleyball together forever. And he chose a restaurant instead?

Acquiring this information, alongside the fact that he’d married Suna, was all too much. Atsumu no longer wanted to see his brother. Not Suna, either. No. He was going to figure this mess out on his own now. And if he couldn’t, he’d just start a new life for himself in 2025. A better life. One that didn’t lead to such a miserable, lonely life as the current Atsumu had.

As his own future-self crossed his mind, he got an idea. 

It only took him three tries to unlock Osamu’s phone. For the first attempt, he put in his own birthday. Then he put in his mom’s. Then Suna’s. 

Suna’s birthday it was. 

Once Atsumu figured out how the phone worked, he quickly found Osamu’s contacts. He scrolled and scrolled until he saw his own face. Granted, it was a much older version of his face, but it was still him nonetheless. 

He clicked call— his heart racing at the thought of talking to himself. But the call went straight to voicemail. 

Hi, you’ve reached the inbox of Miya Atsumu— his own voice said to him. If you’re contactin’ me on behalf of a sponsor deal, please send an email to my business contact listed in my Twitter bio. If you’re anyone else, please leave a voicemail at the tone, and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible. Thanks. 

Atsumu hung up and tried again. But there was no answer. Instead of giving up, Atsumu clicked on the contact information. And within less than a scroll, he found what looked to be his own address. 

He plugged it into Osamu’s navigation app. His own apartment looked to be about a ten minute subway ride from his current location. But as Atsumu had no money, and no knowledge on how to navigate the metro, he decided to walk. It was only forty minutes. He could do that in his sleep. 

As he got closer, he got more and more excited. Finally, he’d be able to meet himself. He’d be able to vent to someone who knew exactly what he was feeling. And maybe— just maybe— he could convince Atsumu to fix things. To move closer to Suna and Osamu. To get Osamu back into volleyball. It could be done. 

However, his plan deflated the moment the door to Atsumu’s apartment opened. For it was not thirty-year-old Atsumu who answered. 

No— it was a very tall man with curly black hair and two moles on his forehead. A man who had his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, as if he were just getting ready for the day at 3pm.

The moment he made eye contact with Atsumu, his toothbrush fell out of his mouth. It clattered to the ground. 

Twenty-nine-year-old Sakusa Kiyoomi was having a horrible day. 

Firstly, his fiancé was out of town on a camping trip. Will you come camping with me, Omi? He’d asked two days before. Sakusa had turned to him and gone what the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you ask me to go camping? I would rather shave my entire head and scoop my eyeballs out with spoons than ever voluntarily spend the night in the dirty, gross woods. And his fiancé had done nothing but laugh and kiss him on the mouth, telling him he’d be back in a day. 

So that was the first thing wrong with Sakusa’s day. His apartment was far too void of a thirty-year-old blond man who annoyed, poked, prodded, and doted on Sakusa endlessly. The second thing wrong was that his alarm had not gone off for some reason, which meant he’d accidentally slept in until 2:30 pm. And the third thing wrong was that there was someone at his door. A very annoying person who wouldn’t stop knocking.

He opened it, expecting it to be the mailman, the landlord, Bokuto Koutarou on fire, anyone. Anyone , except for the fifteen-year-old version of his fiancé. 

The minute he looked into his eyes, his body completely froze. His toothbrush was on the ground in seconds. 

“Atsumu?” He managed to whisper, his hand trembling on the door. “Dear God. What the hell happened on that camping trip?”

“What?” Teenage Atsumu asked back. “No, I’m looking for Atsumu. Is he here? Can I talk to him?”

“I don’t understand. You’re Atsumu.”

“Yeah. And I want to talk to him. Let me in.”

He pushed past and walked into the apartment, and Sakusa could do nothing but watch in shock as teenage Atsumu rifled through his apartment. As he looked at the picture frames on the walls. At the books on the bookshelf. At the clothes in their shared closet— his eyes lingering on Atsumu’s Olympic jersey for at least three minutes. Satisfied that Miya Atsumu did indeed live here, he went and sat down on the couch. He put his feet up on the coffee table and crossed his arms. 

“So, who are you?” Atsumu asked. “Why do you live with Atsumu?” 

“I’m—” Sakusa started, fully believing he was stuck in a weird, weird nightmare. “I’m Atsumu’s roommate.” 

“I’m becoming real suspicious of that word today. If you’re roommates, then why do you two share a closet?” 

“There’s only one in the apartment, jackass.” Sakusa spat back, immediately annoyed. It was the truth, anyways. “What’s wrong with roommates sharing a damn place to put their clothes, huh?”

Atsumu seemed slightly taken aback, as if he hadn’t been expecting that response. He only looked down at the floor, nervously picking at a thread on his uniform. 

“Look, kid.” Sakusa picked up his toothbrush and threw it away, then washed his hands. “How’d you get here?”

“Well, I was at Inarizaki. Then I got sent to the principal’s office. Then all of a sudden, I was in a new school in Osaka. And then I ran into Suna, who brought me to Osamu. But they both pissed me off. So I took ‘Samu’s phone and rifled through it until I found Atsumu’s address.” He paused. “I want to talk to him. When will he be back?” 

“Soon.” Sakusa walked over to the couch, holding his hand out. “I’m going to make a few calls. Give me Osamu’s phone. I don’t trust you with it.” He paused for a moment, remembering how rebellious Atsumu used to be at this age. How annoyingly smart and crafty he was. “If you even think of moving from this couch, I will call your mother and tell her every terrible thing you’ve ever done in your life up to this point. Including when you broke her favorite framed piece of art.”

“You know about that? But— I’ve never told anybody—”

“I know everything, Miya.” He beckoned for the phone again. “Hand it over. Now.” 

Once Osamu’s phone was in his hand, he went out onto the balcony and shut the door behind him. He pressed his own phone to his ear, keeping an eye on Atsumu through the glass. 

“Kiyoomi?” Suna asked through the phone. “Not a great time for a chat. Mind calling me later?”

“There is a thing in my house.” Sakusa’s voice was quiet. “A scrawny, irritating, piss-blond thing in my house.”

“Oh my god. ‘Samu. Kiyoomi found him.” Suna said to Osamu in the background. “Kiyoomi, make sure he stays put, okay? Just try not to upset him. He’s already had a really hard day, and god damn, he’s a fast runner.”

“Yeah, I’ll watch him.” Sakusa said. “Just get here as soon as possible.” 

“We will.” 

Sakusa hung up after that. He tried for a few minutes to reach his fiancé, but he never answered. He must’ve still been deep in the woods with no service. 

So with a great sigh, he went back into the living room. He’d never been a great babysitter. Today would probably be no different. 

Atsumu had to admit, Sakusa was an odd guy. 

First off, he showed him a bedroom on the other side of the apartment. It was decorated head-to-toe with medals and signed pictures and posters. In fact, some of the stuff looked exactly like the things he had in his bedroom back in Hyogo. 

“This is Atsumu’s room, isn’t it?” He said, looking through some of the drawers. One of them had his current favorite gaming console in it. Now, it was covered in dust, but it meant a lot to Atsumu that he still had it. Another drawer had some of his best T-shirts in it. Another had his childhood stuffed animal. 

“Yep.” Sakusa answered. 

“You two really are roommates, huh?”

“Yes. Why would I lie to you, kid?” 

“Suna lied to me. He said he and ‘Samu were just roommates. Only to hide the fact that they were married.”

“And how did that make you feel?”

Atsumu stared at the carpet for a moment, his mood suddenly falling again. 

“Bad.” He whispered. “Really, really bad.” 

He looked up, only to see that Sakusa’s gaze had softened considerably. 

“Bad because they lied to you?” Sakusa asked. “Or bad because they’re married?” 

“Bad because they’re married.” Atsumu muttered. And strangely enough, Atsumu felt the urge to spill his guts to a man he didn’t even know. Perhaps it was the anonymity that comforted him. “It’s— it’s been hard, y’know? I just started my first year of high school. And I’ve never been lonelier in my life. And the two people I thought I could depend on— my brother, and my first friend at Inarizaki— they don’t care about me at all. Now I know they both regret acting that way, but still, it hurts to know that they don’t need me in the way I need them. And it makes me feel like what everyone says about me is true.” 

“What are they saying?” 

Atsumu let out a huff. “That I’m annoying. That I’m too loud. Too brash. Too gay.” He shook his head. “Which I’m not gay. I know I’m not. But everyone calls me it anyways. And it just makes me feel even more unloveable than I already am.”

He cut off as Sakusa looked away from him. Then he watched as the man quickly reached his hand up to his own eye and brushed it, as if he were wiping away the smallest of tears. 

A moment later, he looked back over to Atsumu. His eyes were still red. 

“You’re not unloveable, Atsumu.” His voice cracked ever so slightly. “Please. Don’t ever say those words about yourself again, okay?” 

“But—”

“No buts.” Sakusa cut him off. “Look. High school can be a really, really hard time. Especially if you don’t quite fit in. Trust me, I know from experience, alright?” He took a step closer. “You’re gonna find your people someday, Atsumu. I promise you. It might take you a few years, but please know— they’re out there. And they’re waiting for you just as much as you’re waiting for them.” 

“How do you know?” Atsumu asked. “How can you say that so confidently?” 

“Because I was one of—” Sakusa started, cutting himself off. “Because I just know, okay?”

Atsumu went to protest his answer, but Sakusa held up a finger to shush him. 

“I’ve got a cool idea, okay?” He continued. “Go put your shoes on. We’ll be walking for just a few minutes.” 

Atsumu was led to a giant building with a dome shaped roof. Outside of two industrial looking doors, Sakusa pulled out a set of keys. 

“Go ahead. I won’t be far behind you.” He said once he pushed open the doors. He struggled to pull his keys out of the lock, muttering under his breath. “Dammit. I’ve worked in this building for how long, and I still can’t figure out this damn lock?”

Atsumu walked inside. He couldn’t see a thing, but just based on how echoey it was, he could tell it was a big building. He lowered himself to the ground and felt the floor. It felt just like a gymnasium floor. 

His heart beat faster. 

One by one, Sakusa flicked the lights on. Atsumu turned around and watched as the whole room became brightly illuminated. And it was the biggest, most beautiful gym he’d ever stepped foot in in his life. Bleachers extended so high up against the wall, Atsumu swore, a million people could be seated for a game. On the walls, tons of colorful banners hung. All for one black and gold team. 

MSBY. 

“Wow. You live by MSBY’s gym?” He looked around even more. At the giant volleyball net that was set up in the middle of the court. “How’d you get the keys to it?”

“Well, Atsumu, I’ve played on MSBY for over seven years now.” Sakusa said. “But that’s not the cool part.”

“What is?”

Sakusa picked up a stray volleyball off the floor, tossing it right into Atsumu’s hands. “You do, too.” 

Atsumu stared down at the ball for several seconds. He’d been so goddamn wrapped up in everything else— in asking about Suna’s wife, about what team Osamu played for— he’d completely forgotten to ever ask about himself. 

“MSBY?” He repeated, looking up to Sakusa’s eyes. “You’re joking. I’m not good enough for MSBY.” 

“Of course you’re good enough.” He smirked, moving to the opposite side of the  net. “In the present day you are, at least. So that just means you need to work twice as hard when you get back to 2010. You’re not gonna get to this point in your life by sitting on your ass.” 

Atsumu couldn’t help but to grin. He liked the way a professional volleyball felt in his hands. It was way smaller than he was used to. But it was better. 

“Come on, show me your skills.” Sakusa egged him on, cracking his knuckles. “I wanna see how the young Miya Atsumu plays.” 

The two of them smacked the volleyball back and forth for up to an hour. And even though Sakusa was the equivalent of an old man (29) he had a lot of energy. A lot of force, too. He was able to slam the ball onto the ground so hard, the sound reverberated around the gym like thunder. 

“How do you do that?” Atsumu asked, catching his breath. 

“Flexible wrists.” Sakusa bent his hand all the way back to his arm. “Don’t try to take this. This is my thing, you hear me?” 

He cut off as a series of voices echoed from behind the door they’d come though. At first, Atsumu had expected it to be Suna and Osamu— here to drag him back to their apartment. But it wasn’t. It was two voices he’d never heard in his life. 

“Bokuto-san, you said you had your keys!” 

“I did. I swear to God I did!” The man named Bokuto yelled back. His voice was loud. “Shit. I must’ve left them back in the woods.”

“Back in the woods ?” The first voice repeated. “You’re gonna have to go do that four hour hike again just to go get them. And I’m not gonna go with you.”

“ Shoyo.”

“I’m not!” Shoyo yelled back. “At least not today, man. I’m pooped.”

“Here.  I’ve got my keys.” Another voice responded. At the sound of it, Atsumu’s whole body froze. It was Atsumu. It had to be.

For a couple minutes, the three outside struggled with the lock. And just as Sakusa had taken the volleyball back, the door opened.

First to step inside was a super tall man with gray and black striped hair. He didn’t even look Atsumu or Sakusa’s way.  He just lazily waved and headed straight to the locker room. He was covered in dirt and leaves, as if he’d fallen down a mountain. Multiple mountains. 

Second to walk in was a man that even fifteen-year-old Atsumu was taller than. He had bright ginger hair and a wide smile as he waved to Sakusa. He didn’t seem to quite notice teenage Atsumu either— promptly following Bokuto. 

Last but not least, grown-up Atsumu finally entered the gym. His eyes immediately fell onto Sakusa’s, and strangely enough, a warm smile took over the lower half of his face.  

But that smile was wiped off the second his eyes fell onto Atsumu’s. In fact, he completely froze like a deer in headlights, staring into the soul of someone he’d been only fifteen years ago. 

Sakusa walked over and whispered in his ear for several moments, but the entire time, Atsumu kept eye contact with his younger self. 

“Oh, and I told him that we’re roommates.” Sakusa’s voice harshly whispered, right before he started to walk towards the locker room. 

“Roommates?”

“Roommates.” 

Once Sakusa shut the locker room door behind him, the two Atsumus were finally alone. And it looked as if it took grown-up Atsumu a great deal of courage to start approaching his younger self. But eventually, he took a step closer. Then another. He didn’t stop until he was right in front of him. 

“Hey, kid.” He put a gentle hand on Atsumu’s shoulder. “You look like you’ve had quite the—”

He cut off as fifteen-year-old Atsumu hugged him. He squeezed his older self’s ribcage so hard, he swore he heard something pop. Then he braced to be pushed away. That’s how all of his hugs with Osamu went, anyways. But instead of being shoved off, or being told he was lame for wanting a hug, his older self hugged him back just as hard. 

And it meant the world to him. It meant so much, Atsumu couldn’t help but shove his face into older Atsumu’s shirt. 

“I know, buddy.” Older Atsumu said, hugging him tighter once he heard a sniffle. His own voice cracked, too. “I know exactly how you’re feelin’. Trust me, I know.” 

Once he pulled away, older Atsumu lightly ruffled his hair and led him toward the bleachers. 

“This is my favorite thing to do in this dusty, crusty old gym, alright?” He lightly laughed, laying down on his back on the third row of seating. He patted the row next to him. “Lay down right here.” 

Once he did as he was told, he was met with a beautiful view of the gym rafters. Cascading wooden beams that were all woven together like some sort of basket. Stuck behind many of the beams were an endless amount of volleyballs. At least twenty of them were up there. 

“Who knocked that many volleyballs up there?” Fifteen-year-old Atsumu asked. “That’s gotta be at least fifty feet. It’s basically impossible to hit one that high.” 

Atsumu lightly chuckled next to him, his eyes transfixed on the ceiling, too. “Me. I knocked every single one of those bad boys up there. Some of them during practices. Most of them during games.”

“You’re lyin’.”

“I ain’t.”

“And what do you mean that this is a dusty, crusty old gym? This place is awesome!” 

“Okay, okay, it is pretty cool. That’s what I thought at first, too.” Atsumu poked teenage Atsumu’s shoulder. “But the thing is, you and I play in even better gyms throughout the years. Ones that make this place look like a shithole.”

“But I don’t understand. How’d you do it all without—“ Atsumu’s voice hitched. He couldn’t bare the thought of speaking it out loud. Because then it would be real. “ Without—“

“Without ‘Samu?” Older Atsumu looked over, his heart breaking at the look on the teen’s face. “You found that out today, too?”

“Yeah. I found out about his lame-ass restaurant. Along with him bein’ married to Sunarin. And I just feel so betrayed. My whole life, I pictured that I’d have ‘Samu right by my side. And to find out that it’s not like that.” He dropped his voice, afraid to admit it to himself. “It really, really hurts.” 

“Even though he gave you that black-eye this morning, huh? I thought I hated ‘Samu at this age.”

“I do. I hate him. I hate him so fuckin’ much. But… I also love him. He’s my goddamn brother. We’ve been by each other's sides since day one, and it’s supposed to be like that forever.”

Older Atsumu was quiet for several moments, his eyes transfixed on the ceiling above him. But then he took in a deep breath.

“Just because ‘Samu doesn’t play volleyball doesn’t mean that he’s not by our side, ‘Tsumu.” Atsumu looked over at him. “Did you know that ever since I became a professional volleyball player, that he’s never, ever missed one of my games? Well, of course you didn’t know. But it’s the truth. Every single game of mine— he’s over at the sideline, wearin’ my jersey and shoutin’ at the top of his lungs. Sometimes he even stands in line for my autograph. Which frankly just pisses me off.” Atsumu took a moment to laugh. “And after every game, you know where I go?”

“Where?”

“His restaurant. He makes onigiri. And he’s really fuckin’ good at it too. I can’t even think about eatin’ onigiri from anywhere else anymore, because I just know it’ll taste like dogshit compared to ‘Samu’s.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Atsumu smiled. “He’s got one of the best restaurants in town. And that’s just not my own opinion. He’s got award after award on his wall. Honestly, there’s almost too many of ‘em. I can’t keep ‘em straight anymore.” 

A short pause fell after that, until teenage Atsumu couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“Is he happy?” He whispered.

“Very.”

“And— are you happy?”

“Very.” Older Atsumu answered. Teen Atsumu finally noticed the silver ring on his finger. “Life couldn’t get much better than this, kid.”

Teen Atsumu looked back to the ceiling. And even though today had been nothing but a whirlwind of painful, hard emotions, he finally found himself able to take a deep breath. Able to accept that maybe— just maybe— things would be okay. 

For the next two hours, he and Atsumu talked about everything under the sun. About volleyball. About their Ma. About their favorite video games. Surprisingly, a lot of teen Atsumu’s favorite games were still older Atsumu’s favorites. 

“Nothin’ quite hits like games from 2008-2009.” Atsumu huffed, setting the ball for teen Atsumu to hit. “I swear. Something about them is just so much better than anything released nowadays.”

“Nostalgia, maybe?” Teen Atsumu slammed the ball into the ground. Grown Atsumu’s eyes slightly bugged out at how hard he’d hit it. 

“Are you callin’ me old?” 

It was teen Atsumu’s turn to laugh. “I ain’t callin’ ya young.”

As the sun set, the two of them left the gym to go get their mutual favorite food. And as they ate at a small table, Atsumu couldn’t help but to look at older Atsumu’s ring. 

“So. Are you married, too?” He asked. Older Atsumu looked up from his fatty tuna in shock, as if he’d forgotten all about his ring. 

“I— no. Not yet. It’s just an engagement ring.”

“Your girlfriend proposed to you ?” Teen Atsumu couldn’t hold back his gasp. He’d never heard of a girl being the one to propose. “That’s so freakin’ cool of her. I always knew we’d find some badass chick.”

Older Atsumu nervously laughed. “I— yeah. Yep. She’s awesome.” 

An awkward silence fell. All until Atsumu set his tuna down, letting out a long sigh. 

“Look, kid. Our fiancé— she’s wonderful. But what would your opinion be if a man had proposed to me, instead?”

“What?” Teen Atsumu laughed. “Why the hell would a man be proposing to you? I’m not gay, which means you’re not gay either. It doesn’t work like that.” 

Older Atsumu’s face fell for the slightest of moments, but he quickly shoved it away. “Do you think there’s something wrong with being gay, Atsumu?” 

“I mean, no. Like, I don’t think anything is wrong with Sunarin and ‘Samu for gettin’ married. I think it’s kinda sweet. But it’s just that I’m not gay. And I never will be.” 

“I— alright.” Atsumu shoved the rest of his fatty tuna in his mouth, taking several moments to chew it all. “Alright, kid.” 

Shortly after, instead of heading back to the gym or to Atsumu’s apartment, they hopped on the metro and went back to Central Osaka Academy. And teen Atsumu had no idea why.

“I think this might be our best bet for gettin’ ya back to yer time, ‘Tsumu.” Older Atsumu said, approaching the school. “I think if we have you step into the principal's office again, maybe it’ll work in reverse. Maybe  it’ll send ya back to Inarizaki or somethin’.” 

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then we try somethin’ else. We’re gonna get you back to your time. I promise.”

“But I don’t want to go back.” Atsumu muttered as he looked down. “‘Samu and Rin are actually nice to me in this time. And— and you.” He kicked a rock. “You’re the only person who understands me. The only person who understands how fuckin’ hard it is to be me . Besides.” He drifted off, his voice becoming tiny. “You’re just so cool.” 

“I know, kid.” Atsumu reached over and ruffled his hair “But we gotta get you back. So you can start workin’ towards buildin’ this life. I didn’t get to this point by sittin’ on my ass and twiddling my thumbs. Besides, Ma is probably worried sick about ya.” 

He stopped walking as they approached the school’s front doors. In front of them stood three figures— Suna, Osamu, and Sakusa. Osamu was the one who came running first. He immediately bent down to teen Atsumu’s height— shaking him by the shoulders. 

“You brat . You ran away before I could explain my restaurant!” He shook him violently. “Me opening a restaurant doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. It doesn’t mean that I abandoned you.”

“I already explained it to him, ‘Samu.” Older Atsumu cut him off. “And I did a much better job of it, too.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“ You fuck off, fucker.”

Teen Atsumu laughed, suddenly missing his own twin brother. The version of Osamu who was still fifteen, too, with acne smattered on his face and lanky limbs. 

Thirty-year-old Osamu went back to looking him in the eye— right after telling older Atsumu to shut his trap. “If this principal office thing works, I want you to smack the shit out of me when you get back. Immediately. Hit me as hard as you possibly can. Tell me how much of an asshole I’m being to ya, okay? You have my full permission to beat the snot out of fifteen-year-old me. I deserve it.”

Atsumu nodded. And before Osamu walked away, he hugged teen Atsumu as tightly as he could. 

“I love you.” He said into Atsumu’s ear. “No matter how much we fight. No matter how many times I tell you that I hate you, or pushed you away from me, I’ve always still loved you. That never, ever changed.”He cut off as older Atsumu smacked him. “ What ?”

“Stop it with that sappy ass shit!” Older Atsumu yelled, his eyes watering. “Jesus Christ. You’re gonna make a grown man cry with that garbage.”

The twins immediately started bickering again, all while Suna grabbed the collar of teen Atsumu’s shirt and yanked him a few feet away. 

“Atsumu. This is my advice to you.” Suna started. “If you want to hang out with fifteen-year-old me, all you have to do is buy me some chuppets and go skateboarding with me.”

“It’s that easy?”

“It’s that easy.” Suna laughed. “I was very easy to please at that age. And even though I was deeply crushing on Osamu, and wanted to be with him every chance I got, that didn’t mean that I hated you. I wanted to be best friends with you. I just didn’t know how to do it.” He lightly pushed Atsumu. “So when you get back, make it clear to me that you wanna be best friends, too. And I have a feeling it’ll work.” 

The twins had started to borderline brawl in the background, so Suna left to go break them apart. Which meant that Atsumu and Sakusa were the only ones standing in front of the doors. Sakusa was adamant about looking away, comfortable to just exist in the silence. But Atsumu couldn’t stand it. 

“So, how did we meet?” Atsumu asked. “Did we meet through MSBY?”

Sakusa kept his eyes on the distance, lost in thought. “No. We met a little earlier than that.”

“When? I want to know when. So that way I’m ready, and I can look for you.”

“Just be patient, shorty.” Atsumu snuck up behind teen Atsumu, grabbing him by his sleeve and yanking him inside. “You’ll meet him eventually.  When the time is right.”

Before the two of them could slip completely inside, Sakusa grabbed teen Atsumu’s other sleeve. Slowly— very slowly— Atsumu looked up at him. Up into eyes that looked like black holes. Eyes that felt like they were sinking claws into Atsumu’s soul. 

“One last thing.” Sakusa said, a quiet smile on his face. “Make sure to remember the right hand-sanitizer. The one with the pink lid.”

Older Atsumu lightly smacked him in the back of his head. “He’s gonna remember, Omi-Omi. He’s me. He’s perfect in everything he does.” 

Sakusa only rolled his eyes, lightly pushing away older Atsumu as he laughed. “Just wanted to make sure our story stays the same. It’s too precious to me. I don’t want him to mess any part of it up.” He looked back over to young Atsumu, fond smile still present. “Just… remember that one detail, okay?”

“I will.” 

After departing from Sakusa, the two Atsumus made their way into the school. As it was late in the evening, no one else was inside. Not even a janitor. So they had to find the principal’s office by themselves. It took them a short minute to figure things out, but eventually, they stood in front of it. 

Before teen Atsumu could put his hand on the door, however, older Atsumu held out his arms. And Atsumu couldn’t stop himself from hugging him one last time. 

“Being fifteen. Being in high school.” Older Atsumu started, his voice low. “They were some of the toughest years. But that just means that life gets so much better after you graduate, ‘Tsumu. I promise it.” 

Atsumu nodded against his chest, not wanting him to leave. But eventually, older Atsumu pulled away. A hand stayed on his shoulder, however. 

“Three things before you go.” He started. “One. Be nicer to your Ma. She’s the best woman to walk this goddamn planet, and she loves you and ‘Samu more than anything else. She’s always gonna be there for you. Second thing. Even though you’ve got people like ‘Samu and Ma, do you know who you’ll always have? Even when Ma and ‘Samu aren’t there?”

“Who?” Teen Atsumu asked. “Sunarin?”

“No.” Atsumu jabbed teen Atsumu’s chest with his finger. “Yourself. You’re always gonna have yourself. So even when no one else is there for you, you’re still gonna have you . ” He smiled. “Which, telling by the super fun last few hours we just had, is more than enough for you to be okay, even when you’re all alone. Got it?” He paused, watching as Atsumu nodded. “Alright. Go step in that principal’s office. Let’s see if this plan works.”

“Wait, you said there were three things. You only listed two.”

“Oh, I did, didn’t I?” Older Atsumu froze, thinking for a moment. It must’ve come back to him, because he got the tiniest smirk on his face. He lowered himself right next to teen Atsumu’s ear— whispering so faint, he was sure only the two of them heard. 

“Pretty soon, you’re gonna meet a scrawny, curly-haired, two-moled, irritating motherfucker. And when you do, give him absolute hell for me, ya hear me? Tear him to shreds.”

“Why? Aren’t we roommates? Isn’t he your friend?” He paused. “What did that hand-sanitizer thing mean?” 

Atsumu squeezed teen Atsumu’s shoulder so hard, he could feel the engagement ring against his skin. “You’ll see eventually, kid.”

At last, teen Atsumu put his hand on the doorknob. And as he twisted it open, he looked back at his older self one last time. At his light blonde hair. At his muscly arms and legs. At his wide smile as he watched his younger self.

“You got this.” He whispered. 

And then teen Atsumu shut the door behind him.

The minute the lock clicked, his surroundings shifted from the Central Osaka Academy’s principal’s office back to Inarizaki’s. His uniform switched back, too. But no one was in the school anymore. The whole building was as dark as the nighttime outside the windows. Apparently, he’d been gone from 2010 for the entire day. 

He raced out of Inarizaki, grabbing his backpack from his classroom and running outside. He’d gotten halfway home when a car pulled over to the side of the road, their hazards already flashing. And as Atsumu got closer, he could see that it was his mother’s car. 

She got out of the driver’s seat with a tear-stained face. She ran straight up to Atsumu on the sidewalk, hugging him so tightly, Atsumu thought all of his bones would break. 

“Oh, Atsumu, my baby.” Her voice cracked, kissing his forehead over and over again. “I’ve been looking for you for hours. Hours. Ever since I called Rintarou’s mother, and she said you weren’t with them at the skatepark. And when I picked them up, Osamu had the nerve to tell me that you’d left in the middle of class and never came back.” She pulled away, shaking her son. “Where on earth were you?!” 

There was no way Atsumu could respond with the year 2025 , so he told the first lie that came to mind. 

“I’m so sorry, Ma. I was sad. So I skipped class and went downtown for the whole day. I’m really sorry. I’ll never do it again.”

“You bet your ass you’re never doin’ it again.” She lightly yanked at his ear. “Come on, now. I’ve gotta get Rintarou back home. And then we’re going to have a talk.” 

Atsumu got into the front seat of the car. In the back, Suna and Osamu were sitting next to each other. Their knees had been touching, but the minute Atsumu had looked back at them, they quickly ripped them away from one another. 

Suna also had his skateboard in his lap, alongside a myriad of scrapes along his arms and knees. 

“How’d that new trick go? The one you wanted to show ‘Samu?” Atsumu asked, right as his mother merged back into traffic. 

“Oh it was awesome.” Suna responded, obviously trying to act like he wasn’t in pain. “Landed it every single time. It was super sick.” 

“That’s cool. That’s cool. Well. I know a little bit about skateboarding, too. So if you’d ever want to show each other our tricks, just let me know.” 

“Yeah, right.” Osamu rolled his eyes. But Suna didn’t pay attention to him. 

“Really? You do?” His eyes lit up. “That’s so sick. We can go sometime.” 

“But skateboarding is our thing.” Osamu bumped his knee into Suna’s. “Don’t go with him. Go with me.” 

Suna only looked back and forth between Osamu and Atsumu, not quite knowing what to do or how to answer. But Atsumu knew what to do. He just had to wait until they’d dropped Suna off. 

Once they were back in their own driveway— once their mother had gone inside their house— Atsumu decked his brother right in the nose. Then he punched him on the cheek, then put him into a headlock. Osamu tried to hit back, but Atsumu was so angry, he’d restrained him well. 

“What the fuck is your problem?” Osamu yelled, elbowing Atsumu in the gut. But Atsumu held on tight. “Let me go, you piece of shit!” 

“I’ll let you go once you agree to this deal.” Atsumu spat. “I’ll let you hang out with Sunarin, alone, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But that means I get to hang out with you two on every other day of the week. He’s my friend, too.”

“No, you asshole. He and I don’t like to hang out with you, so just drop it already and leave us the fuck alone—”

“Agree to my offer, or I’ll tell Sunarin you have a crush on him.” Atsumu blurted before he could regret it. Osamu completely froze underneath him. 

Then he blew up like a volcano. 

“What the fuck makes you think that?” Osamu screamed at the top of his lungs, flipping Atsumu onto his back. He went to punch him, but Atsumu grabbed his wrists. “If you tell him that, it’ll ruin my friendship with him. And it ain’t even the fuckin’ truth.”

“Then agree to my deal! Agree to it, and I won’t tell Sunarin that.”  

“ Fine!” Osamu snapped. He ripped his hands out of Atsumu’s grasp and headed straight for the door. But before he opened it, he stared back at his brother. Blood dripped from his nose, and one of his eyes was starting to swell. “I hate you. I hate you so fucking much, Atsumu.” He paused, his hand shaking on the doorknob. “And I’m not fucking gay!”

As Osamu left, Atsumu could only smile from the grass. 

He had a gut feeling that his thirty-year-old self would be proud of him. And that was all he needed. 

It was the first day of National Youth Camp when Atsumu finally met him. 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi.” Atsumu breathed, looking up into those black-hole eyes once more. 

For some reason, he could feel his face heating up. Could feel as his palms began to clam up. It was getting harder to breathe. Was the air getting thinner? 

“Ugh.” Sakusa scoffed, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he walked away. He only looked back at Atsumu once, nose wrinkling further, as if he had to ensure that Atsumu was nothing more than a walking abomination. 

For the rest of their time at camp, Atsumu kept his head in the game. He was there for volleyball. Nothing else. But still, he couldn’t help if his eyes darted over to Sakusa’s while they ate their meals. Or if he ran slower than he usually did during laps, all so he could potentially get the chance to speak to Sakusa again. But every time he dropped his pace, Sakusa would speed up in order to get away from him. 

His saving grace was when he heard the sound of shattering glass. He looked over in the locker room, only to see that some asshole had knocked over Sakusa’s fancy bottle of hand sanitizer, its broken pink lid slowly rolling away. 

“Oops. Sorry.” The asshole shoulder checked Sakusa, who was staring at the mess with glossy eyes. “Maybe stop being such a freak and bringing that damn sanitizer with you everywhere you go. Just a suggestion.” 

Without thinking, Atsumu went back to his dorm room. He grabbed a hoodie. A crumpled wad of yen. His phone. Then he slipped out the window. 

He didn’t come back until he had a small plastic bag in his hand, thirty-year-old Sakusa’s advice echoing in his head. And he didn’t stop roaming the gym and all of its connecting hallways until he found Sakusa in the locker room, completely alone. 

“You snuck out to get this?” Sakusa whispered, nimble hands gently wrapping around the bottle. They accidentally brushed against Atsumu’s, and for a moment, he’d sworn he’d touched a live wire. “Miya. You could get kicked out for doing that.” 

Atsumu shrugged, voice echoing. “Ya needed it more.” 

A light dusting of a pink spread across Sakusa’s cheeks. It was cute. It was even cuter how his lips got all pouty, his eyebrows furrowing as he played with the pink lid. “You even got the right brand.” He muttered. “How’d you know?” 

“Just took notice.” Atsumu felt his cheeks warming up, too. Especially as Sakusa’s pitch-black eyes were on his again. “It’s… been a little hard not to notice ya, y’know?” 

“What, because I’m a freak?” 

“No.” Atsumu’s heart pounded in his chest. “Because yer pretty.” 

Atsumu had never imagined himself saying those words to another man. Certainly not with the lethal combination of blushing cheeks and clammy palms. But a lot of things had changed within him since he’d laid his eyes on one sixteen-year-old Sakusa, the first thing being his newfound need to hold Sakusa’s hand and hold it now. 

But Sakusa beat him to it. As by then, Atsumu’s right hand was gently being grabbed by Sakusa. And a moment later, their fingers were intertwined. Then he gave a soft squeeze. 

He didn’t say anything after that. But Atsumu heard his actions loud and clear. 

The final piece slid into place during Atsumu’s third year. 

Two months into the school year, Osamu became a shell of himself. He robotically moved through classes. He barely made it through volleyball practice, his eyes nearly glossed over, as if he couldn’t stand to do it a second longer. And at home, he barely left his bed. He even stopped messaging Suna. 

Atsumu couldn’t watch it a second longer. 

“‘Samu. ‘Samu.” He shook his brother awake one day after school. “‘Samu. Wake the fuck up.” 

“No. Leave me alone.” 

“I just got back from the store. I got stuff to make onigiri, but I need help makin’ it.”

“I don’t know shit about cooking. Fuck off.” 

Against Osamu’s wishes, Atsumu dragged him out of bed. Dragged him all the way to the kitchen, where he shoved ingredients in his hands. And for the next hour, the two of them cooked side by side. They would’ve had identical onigiri by the end of it, but right as Osamu was finishing his own dish, Atsumu fake tripped— dropping his all over the floor. 

“Dammit.” He cussed, hitting his fists on the floor. “Dammit. I was looking forward to that shit. This fucking sucks.” 

Osamu hummed from where he was forming his last bit of rice into a triangle. His eyes had a pleased look in them, as if he was actually enjoying what he was doing. He’d never, ever looked that way while standing on a court. 

“You can try some of mine, ‘Tsumu. I won’t eat it all.” He said, his eyes still glued to what he was doing. “I can’t promise it’ll be any good though.” 

A few minutes later, the two of them were sitting down at the table together. They both said their thank yous. Then, Osamu got to chowing down. 

Atsumu took a moment to stare at the onigiri in front of him. Took a moment to breathe, and review his options. On one hand, he could tell Osamu that the food was bad, and selfishly keep him in volleyball forever. And on the other hand, he could say it was good, and attempt to spark something new. Something new that could make Osamu happy. 

But in order to do that, Atsumu had to let go of him.

Atsumu felt his eyes slightly water. He knew this day had to come eventually. He knew he couldn’t keep his brother in volleyball forever, even though that’s all he dreamed of. That’s all he desired for, even after his trip to the future. Somewhere deep down, he’d always hoped that something would change. 

But nothing did. And now, here they were. 

Slowly, Atsumu lifted the onigiri his brother had made to his mouth. And right before he took the first bite, glimpses of thirty-year-old Osamu passed through his mind. Of a smiling Osamu, who was closer with Atsumu than he ever could’ve imagined. 

And if Atsumu wanted that future, he had to make sacrifices. 

He chewed the first chunk of rice thoroughly, taking note of the way Osamu stared at him from across the table. As Osamu waited for Atsumu’s reaction. For him to spit it out, or to start cussing at him, or to throw it at his face. 

But Atsumu did none of the above. Instead, he just let the tiniest smile sweep across his face. 

“Is—” Osamu stammered, looking more hopeful than Atsumu had seen him in a year. “Is it good?” 

“Is he happy?” Teen Atsumu had whispered, when he’d been talking to thirty-year old Atsumu about Osamu’s restaurant. 

“Very.” 

“And— are you happy?”

“Very.” Atsumu laughed. “Life couldn’t get much better than this, kid.”

“It’s amazing, ‘Samu.” Atsumu’s smile grew even wider. And it was nothing but the truth. He took another bite. And another. And another. He genuinely couldn’t get enough of it.  “You need to make more of this. Like, immediately. And you should make some for Sunarin. He’s gonna fuckin’ love this.” 

Osamu’s mouth slightly turned upwards into a smile. And Atsumu swore— seeing that smile was like injecting pure dopamine into his veins. “Really? You think so?” 

“I know so.” Atsumu grinned back.