Chapter Text
Akaashi meets Miya Osamu a year before they’re officially introduced.
There’s a small shop specializing in rice dishes across the street from his university that he first sets foot in on a day when he has classes from morning to night. His stomach growling due to having skipped breakfast and not packing lunch, he finds himself stepping into the otherwise empty shop on a Thursday afternoon.
“Welcome!”
Akaashi doesn’t notice much about the boy manning the register who shouts the greeting at him except for the fact that he’s the only other person in the store. He grabs a salmon rice ball and takes it to the front.
“Salmon? Nice choice,” the boy says as he rings him up. Akaashi gives him a quick nod before paying in silence, quickly stuffing the change back into his wallet as he glances at his watch. He’ll have to run to make it to his next class and still have time to eat before.
“Thanks! Hope to see ya again!” the boy calls after him. Akaashi gives another noncommittal nod before dashing out of the store.
By the time he scarfs down the rice ball and takes his seat in his lecture, the boy from the shop is gone from his mind.
* * *
The shop is a convenient distance away from his classes, and Akaashi finds himself frequenting it at least once every week, if not more. Almost every time, the same boy from the first day is at the register when he takes a salmon rice ball up to pay, and he always makes some kind of comment to him, whether it’s, “Ya might be the most loyal regular we have,” or “Today’s weather is pretty nice, huh?”
Many months after the first day he set foot in the shop, Akaashi once again brings a salmon rice ball to the register. At this point, he doesn’t even need to look at the labels to know where his regular flavor is located.
“Ya really like salmon, don’t ya?” the register boy remarks, picking it up to scan it. “Ya get the same flavor every week.”
“Huh?” Akaashi looks up, the question catching him off-guard. Register boy usually says something that doesn’t require a verbal response, but now he’s looking at Akaashi like he expects an answer. “Uh, not really.”
“What?” The boy squints at him. “Why do ya order it every time then? I’ve never seen ya get anythin’ else.”
Akaashi shrugs. “I don’t dislike it, and if I always order the same thing, I know what I’m getting. It’s better than ending up with something that I don’t enjoy.”
The boy raises an eyebrow. “Ya know, if ya don’t try anythin’ new, yer not ever gonna find somethin’ ya actually like.”
“I’m risk-averse.”
“You’re risk-averse to the point that you won’t try another rice ball flavor?” the boy asks incredulously.
Akaashi nods, dropping the number of coins that won’t leave him any change onto the counter. He’s sure that the boy is expecting an explanation, but he’s not sure where to start. His level of risk-aversion stems from what happened years ago, back when he was in high school, and he’s not about to share the story with someone he hardly knows. Instead, he ignores the boy’s questioning expression, he moves to pick up his rice ball and leaves the store, but his eyes catch the name tag on the boy’s shirt that he hadn’t slowed down enough to read before.
Miya Osamu.
Akaashi doesn’t know why the name sticks with him, he’s seen plenty of employee name tags before, but it does. He mulls over the name of the boy at the register as he eats his salmon rice ball on the usual bench outside of his next lecture, everything the same as always.
***
About a year from the day that he first set foot in that rice shop, Akaashi officially meets Miya Osamu outside of it.
Bokuto had joined the MSBY Black Jackals at the beginning of the season, and the team had a game in Tokyo on the same weekend as his birthday. Akaashi was invited to the celebration at the end of one of his regular phone calls with his old high school classmate, and while he tried to protest at first (telling Bokuto that he’s busy with school and won’t know anyone there besides him), Bokuto doesn’t take no for an answer.
“I can help you study if you fall behind!” Bokuto cheerfully tells him over the phone. “And don’t worry, some of the guys on the team are inviting other people too!”
Akaashi doesn’t bother telling Bokuto that he doubts a non-accounting major would be able to tutor him as it is the second comment that bothers him more. Bokuto’s teammates inviting people as well means more people to deal with and makes it even harder for Akaashi to predict how the evening will go.
Just like he told Miya Osamu, whose name he still remembers for some reason, Akaashi is risk-averse. Spending a night with a crowd of people he doesn’t know and will likely be as rowdy as Bokuto flies right in the face of that.
Still, he finds himself standing in front of the doors of the hotel the Jackals are staying at, carefully wrapped gift in hand. Do it for your friend, Akaashi tells himself as he swallows. You know Bokuto won’t stop calling you, asking you where you are, if you bail.
Somehow, that’s enough to steel himself to step into the lobby, the elevator, and then the hallway leading to the room number Bokuto had texted him.
He only has to knock once before the door flies open. Bokuto, a huge grin on his face and his hair seemingly spikier than usual, greets him.
“Akaashi! I was worried you wouldn’t show!” he exclaims, ushering Akaashi inside. “Guess I was just being silly!”
Akaashi decides that Bokuto doesn’t need to know that he’d spent fifteen minutes standing outside the hotel talking himself into coming. Instead, he holds out the package in his hands.
“Happy birthday. I brought you something.”
“Really? Akaashi, you didn’t have to!” Bokuto says, though he eagerly accepts the package. “Can I open it?”
“It’s your birthday. I don’t see why not.”
That’s the only permission Bokuto needs before he tears open the wrapping paper. His eyes widen even more at the sight of a large pack of owl socks.
“I should’ve known!” he says, thumping Akaashi on the back. “You’ve always given people socks for presents, and you usually give me owl stuff. Thanks!”
Akaashi nods. Everything Bokuto says is true. He’d been giving people socks ever since he was old enough to buy his own presents because he’d figured that everyone needs socks. It was a safe bet compared to potentially getting someone something that they weren’t going to use. His habit of getting Bokuto various owl-related items as a gift was for the same reason. His friend had always joked that he resembled an owl, both in face and personality, and he seemed to always like the owl-patterned gifts Akaashi got him. Every year, Akaashi contemplated a couple of times whether he should get Bokuto something different for once, and every year, he talked himself out of it. There’s no reason to change if what he’s been doing all along has been working.
All of that passes through Akaashi’s mind in less than a second, so fast that Bokuto would never have to know about the inner monologue that’s running through his brain at all times. He puts on a smile. “You’re welcome.”
“Maybe I’ll wear them to my next match,” Bokuto says, placing the socks on a small table already piled with unwrapped boxes. He motions towards the rest of the room. “Come on, you can meet the team! I’ve already told them about you.”
Akaashi’s eyes dart up.
He tenses, shoulders rising, as he takes in the crowd that fills the space that looks far too large to be a normal hotel room. Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice, guiding him forward with one arm while he waves with the other.
“Hey, Inu-san! Captain!” he calls.
Two men leaning against the counter look over at his voice and approach them. Their faces are familiar, though Akaashi can’t remember their names. He’s only been able to squeeze in watching a couple of Bokuto’s games since he joined the Jackals with how busy his schedule is.
“Is this your friend from high school that you’re always talking about?” the dark-haired one asks. Akaashi glances over to Bokuto for confirmation while Bokuto gives him a clap on the shoulder.
“Yeah! This is Akaashi! He goes to college nearby.”
The man nods in approval, holding out a hand. “Bokuto has told us a lot about you. I’m Meian.”
The captain of the Black Jackals, Akaashi thinks, shaking it.
“It’s great to finally meet you,” the other agrees. “I’m Inunaki, the team’s libero. You were Bokuto’s teammate in high school, right? Does that mean you know Sakusa and Miya too?”
“We played against Sakusa’s team often,” Akaashi says. The other name, Miya, doesn’t ring a bell as he thinks back to all the people he’d met through high school volleyball. “Bokuto was always declaring himself to be his rival back then.”
“He still does that,” Meian says. He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know Miya then?”
“We never played their team,” Bokuto says as Akaashi shakes his head. “I’ve told Tsum-Tsum about you though, and he wants to meet you! His brother is here tonight too. Come on, we have more people for you to meet!”
Akaashi says a quick goodbye to Meian and Inunaki as Bokuto guides him further into the room. He unconsciously moves his hands into his pockets as Bokuto quickly introduces him to Thomas and Barnes before the two of them quite literally walk into a man wearing a facemask, who seems to be speed-walking towards the door.
“Oh, sorry Omi-Omi!” Bokuto exclaims. “Where’re you going in such a rush?”
The man looks up, and Akaashi’s eyes widen when he realizes who he’s looking at. His eyes dart immediately to Bokuto’s face, and then back to Sakusa’s. He’d never known Sakusa well by any capacity, but he couldn’t imagine someone so stoic ever agreeing to be called “Omi-Omi.”
“There are too many people here,” Sakusa mutters. “And Miya is starting to be stupid. I’m heading out.”
As he starts again for the door, he finally seems to notice Akaashi next to Bokuto.
“Akaashi,” he says with a slight nod of acknowledgement.
Akaashi nods back. “Sakusa.”
“Don’t mind him. Omi-Omi doesn’t like crowds. I’m thankful that he showed up tonight at all, though!” Bokuto says cheerily as Sakusa disappears. “Oh, there’s Tsum-Tsum!”
Bokuto points at the couch against the far wall of the room where a blond man is sitting with a Black Jackals jacket slipped over his shoulders, sipping on a drink. When he seems to notice Bokuto, he waves.
“Hey! Bokkun, is that yer friend from Tokyo?”
Akaashi gapes, not registering whatever Bokuto said in response as anything more than garbled sounds. He knows that voice, that accent, and that face, albeit paired with a different hair color.
He’s staring at a blond version of Miya Osamu from the rice shop across the street from his university.
“Akaashi? Akaaaashi? Hello?” Akaashi blinks to see Bokuto waving a hand in front of his face. “Are you still there? You completely spaced out for a second!”
“I’m fine,” Akaashi assures him, though his gaze immediately snaps back to blond Miya Osamu. “You’re a professional volleyball player and work at a rice shop? How does that work?”
Blond Miya Osamu stares at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. “No idea, because I don’t work at a rice shop. I’m just a setter. My twin brother does though, and we have the same face except for the hair. Ya know him or somethin’?”
“Twin brother?”
“Yeah. Osamu,” blond not-Miya-Osamu says. He holds out a hand. “Lucky fer ya, ya just met the better twin anyways. I’m Atsumu.”
“Um,” Akaashi pauses, unsure how he’s supposed to respond to such a declaration. Thankfully, he’s saved from having to come up with a response when another voice cuts in.
“Who said yer the better twin?”
Akaashi turns around to see Miya Osamu, the real Miya Osamu, scowling. It’s a little jarring to see him without his usual uniform T-shirt and cap, but he’s undeniably looking at the same face that sells him rice balls before his lectures.
“I’m just tellin’ him the truth,” Atsumu says with a shrug. “Bokuto’s friend here thought I was ya for a moment. Ya know him, Samu?”
Osamu seems to finally notice Akaashi standing there, his eyes widening in recognition.
“Risk-averse salmon guy?”
“Huh? What kind of title is that?” Atsumu says.
Bokuto laughs. “That’s not his name! This is Akaashi. We were teammates back in high school.”
“So that’s why yer here,” Osamu muses. He turns to Bokuto. “This guy buys a salmon rice ball from the place I’m working part-time at least three times a week.”
“I told you that there would be people besides the team here,” Bokuto says to Akaashi. “Lots of the team have friends or family in Tokyo.”
“Speaking of which,” Atsumu says. “Thomas was sayin’ he challenges us to see who can chug one of those giant mugs the fastest. I told him that he’s goin’ down, but ya in, Bokuto?”
“Of course!” Bokuto says immediately. “Akaashi, is it okay if I leave you here for a second? You know Osamu, right?”
Akaashi wouldn’t say that he really “knows” Osamu given that the longest conversation they’ve ever had was about salmon rice balls but nods anyway. Having known him for as long as he has, Bokuto always asks if he’ll be okay when being left alone with strangers. While Akaashi definitely appreciates it, he can’t help but feel a little guilty about the fact that his friend feels the need to be checking up on him. It’s Bokuto’s birthday celebration after all; he shouldn’t be babysitting someone else all night.
“I’ll be right back!” Bokuto says as he and Atsumu walk off to find Thomas, leaving Akaashi to stand in front of Miya Osamu in silence. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say or do (he’s never been the type to start a conversation), so he opts for fidgeting while looking down at his fingers.
“Ya wanna take a seat?” Osamu asks, sitting down on the couch and patting the spot next to him. After a moment of hesitation, Akaashi sits next to him.
“So are ya a student given how often ya come into the shop?” Osamu says. “Most of our customers are students because we’re right across campus.
Akaashi nods. “I’m in my second year. Accounting.”
“Hey, me too! Not accounting, though,” Osamu says, making a face showing that he’d be miserable in that major. “I’m in business. No wonder you’re always at the shop. I’ve heard that no one in accounting at our school actually sleeps.”
“I sleep,” Akaashi says. “When I don’t have homework.”
“But that’s the point! Ya guys are never not doing homework!”
Osamu laughs at that, a full, hearty sound that fills up the room just like his grin fills his face. For some reason, Akaashi finds himself unable to look away from his expression and feels his heart beat just a little harder. He wonders why. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s seen Osamu’s face across the counter, but he’s never felt this strange feeling before.
“Well, if yer the rare accounting major that actually does things outside of school,” Osamu says, hesitating for only a second. “Ya wanna go out for lunch sometime?”
Akaashi blinks. It takes him a second, then two, then three, to process the words. Even when he does, the only response that leaves his mouth is, “Excuse me?”
“Ya know, lunch. Ya and me. Like a date?” Akaashi just stares at him, and Osamu seems to interpret that as offense. “Shoot, did I mess up? Bokuto said we batted for the same team or whatever the volleyball equivalent of that is. I shouldn’t have assumed-”
“No,” Akaashi says quickly. “You’re right. I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“Surprised?” Now it’s Osamu’s turn to look incredulous. “After I’ve been tryin’ to flirt with ya for the entire past year that ya’ve been comin’ to the shop?
“Flirt?” Akaashi repeats.
Osamu nods. “Ya know, tryin’ to make conversation with ya every time ya come in?”
“Oh.” Now that he thinks about it, Akaashi agrees that Osamu had always been extremely friendly with him, even more so than a regular store employee. He looks down at his hands. “I didn’t notice. Sorry.”
“And Tsumu was convinced that I was just a trash conversation starter,” Osamu mutters under his breath before turning back to Akaashi. “It’s fine, though. I have nothin’ against oblivious types. So, whad’ya say?”
Akaashi studies him for a moment. He doesn’t know Miya Osamu, not really, but he remembers that strange feeling in his chest that he felt only minutes ago. There’s something there , a part of his brain whispers to him. You might be able to figure out what that is if you get to know him better.
But a louder part of his brain is screaming for him to say no. It’s a bad idea, it tells him. Getting to know people, especially romantically, is a risk. It’s probably not going to work out anyways, and there’s no point in getting hurt for nothing. Going out with him is irrational and stupid.
“That would be a bad idea,” Akaashi decides to say, his entire inner conflict passing by in the blink of an eye.
Osamu squints at him. “How do ya know that?”
“It would be an irrational choice.”
When Osamu continues to stare at him, waiting for an answer, Akaashi sighs. He supposes that the least he could do after giving such a strange rejection is explain himself. He chews the inside of his mouth, biting his lip, before speaking.
“I’m risk-averse.”
“I remember.”
“So I live my life making the most rational decisions possible. The ones that involve the smallest amount of risk,” Akaashi says. “I was in the college prep classes in high school because they would open the most doors for me after graduation. When I was the setter of my volleyball team, I had a journal dedicated to planning how to deal with all of Bokuto’s mood swings so I would know what to do in order to have the highest chance of getting him to snap out of it. I’m an accounting major because it has one of the best employment prospects after graduation, and I always get salmon onigiri, even if I don’t particularly like it, because I know I won’t dislike it.”
Osamu seems to ponder his words, chewing his lip, until he finally speaks. “So yer sayin’ that ya don’t wanna go out with me because ya think it’s not a risk worth takin’?”
Akaashi nods. “Most relationships don’t work out, and when that happens, people get hurt.”
“So, hypothetically,” Osamu says. “If the universe gave you a one hundred percent guarantee that there was no risk of gettin’ hurt from goin’ out with me, would ya do it?”
Akaashi doesn’t even need to think about it. “Of course.”
A small grin comes across Osamu’s face. “I won’t keep it a secret that I thought ya were good-lookin’ when ya first walked into the store. What about ya? Honestly, do ya find me attractive?”
Akaashi hesitates on his answer before deciding that there’s very little risk in admitting the truth. It’s not like it’ll change his conclusion that going out with Osamu wouldn’t be a good idea.
“I do.”
Osamu lets out a low, long whistle. “Damn, so ya think I’m attractive and are still rejectin’ me because ya think it won’t work out? Guess ya really weren’t kiddin’ when ya said that ya lived your life avoiding risk. Doesn’t that, I don’t know, keep ya from doin’ things that ya actually wanna do though? Like ya said yer studyin’ accounting because it has the best job prospects, right? Do ya even like the subject?”
Akaashi shrugs. “Not really, but it’s the safest bet.”
“Just like the salmon rice balls?”
Akaashi nods. There’s a long pause after that.
“Well,” Osamu says, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ve told ya how I feel. If ya don’t think it’s a good idea, I’m not gonna push it further, but ya know where to find me if ya ever change yer mind.”
He gets up from the sofa, saying he’s going to make sure that his idiot brother hasn’t made too much of a fool of himself, but winks at Akaashi as he stands. That same hammering of his heart echoes in Akaashi’s ears as he watches Osamu walk off. His mouth is dry, and his pulse is racing. That tiny part of his brain from earlier is talking a little louder than before: tell him that you just changed your mind!
This time though, it’s Akaashi’s conscious thoughts that silence that voice. You don’t do risk, he tells himself. You know better than anyone what can happen when it doesn’t pay off. Relationships are one of the biggest risks you can take. It’s an irrational choice.
Still, none of those thoughts manage to slow his racing heart.