Chapter Text
Kiyoomi began his day in a normal way; he woke up (begrudgingly), made breakfast, brushed his teeth, fixed his hair, and headed out the door. His apartment was only a quick walk from the practice gym, and he always liked to arrive early. Today was no different, and only a few of his teammates had made it to court before him. Hinata and Bokuto were likely getting in an extra practice session, and Meian was the captain; he had to be there before everyone else.
Kiyoomi enjoyed the relative peace of the time in between his short commute and the beginning of practice. The others were largely occupied with their own endeavors, and they knew not to try to talk to him that early in the morning, before the official start of warmups. The only team member who felt no reservations chatting up Kiyoomi before he was really awake and ready to socialize was Miya, but he rarely made it to practice early enough to have time to pester him. Despite Miya’s obvious dedication to the sport, he was arguably as dedicated to sleeping in whenever possible. Kiyoomi heard Miya’s voice ringing in his head - “Beauty sleep may not be necessary for me, Omi-kun, but it doesn’t hurt!”
The door banged open, announcing the entrance of Inunaki, with Barnes in tow. Kiyoomi turned back to the wall he was facing, folding forward and touching his forehead to the floor between his spread legs. He closed his eyes, letting out a small puff of air as the volume in the gym abruptly increased. He had maybe fifteen minutes until the rest of the team would show up, and inevitably with them, Miya.
A few minutes passed, and Coach Foster arrived, along with two of the physical trainers employed by the team. He whistled, signaling the premature beginning of practice. Kiyoomi slowly made his way over to the group forming near the doors to the gym.
“Before we begin, I have some news to share with you all,” Foster began, as the team snapped to attention. Kiyoomi noticed that not everyone was at the gym yet, but he figured Hinata could fill Miya in when he arrived.
“Over the weekend, Miya was visiting family in Hyogo, and they were unfortunately involved in a car accident. Everyone is mostly fine and recovering, but he will likely be out for the season. Our second string setter, Takahashi, will be filling in for him while he recovers.” Foster paused, allowing the announcement to sink in. Kiyoomi felt his heart rate pick up.
Only Hinata and Bokuto seemed unsurprised by Foster’s news. He continued on, “Miya got the worst of it, on the front passenger side. We still don’t know the severity of his injuries, but I’ve been led to believe by the doctors that he is mostly hurt on his left side, namely his left arm and leg. No one sustained any fatal injuries, and they didn’t go into too much detail, but I believe there is a chance this could be a career-ending injury. Don’t spread this news anywhere else, though. I will keep you updated for the time being, but we continue on with practice leading up to the season’s start as normal.” And with that, Foster walked towards the bleachers for his clipboard, Meian and Inunaki following close behind and already sprouting questions.
Kiyoomi immediately stalked over to Hinata and Bokuto, who were talking in hushed voices as the rest of the team dispersed.
“What do you know about Miya.”
Hinata and Bokuto both snapped their attention to Kiyoomi, words dying on their lips. They both looked worried, but like they were trying (poorly) to keep it hidden. Kiyoomi knew they had more information than the coach did.
“We don’t know anything more than what Foster told us, Omi-san,” Hinata replied. He never was a talented liar, and today was no exception. Kiyoomi grimaced.
“I’m not dumb, or blind. Both of you know something. I want you to tell me.”
“Even if we did know something, Omi-omi, why do you care? You don’t even like ‘Tsumu,” Bokuto said, looking confused. Hinata nodded in agreement.
Kiyoomi recoiled - he didn’t dislike Miya. He just thought he was incredibly annoying, but that didn’t equate to dislike. “Where is he right now, then? I know you at least know that.”
Hinata’s gaze darted to Bokuto, and a silent argument passed between them before he answered. “‘Tsumu-san is still in Hyogo.”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “I know that much, dumbass. I meant, is he still in the hospital?”
Bokuto shook his head. “‘Tsumu doesn’t want the rest of the team knowing anything yet, and we promised we would be quiet.” But Hinata added quickly, “He hasn’t been discharged yet, though.”
Bokuto gave Hinata an irritated look, before turning towards the locker room and heading through the doors. Hinata made to trail after him, but turned around, a curious look on his face.
He repeated Bokuto’s earlier question, “Why do you care, Omi-san?”
Kiyoomi thought the answer was obvious. “He’s my setter. We won’t win without him.”
Hinata’s face fell slightly. “Oh- okay. Well, I can’t tell you anything more than I already told you. Just wait for more updates from Coach Foster.”
Feeling frustrated, Kiyoomi turned back towards the center of the gym, where a couple of the second string players had begun warmups. He thought about demanding more answers from Foster, but knew better than to approach his coach the way he had approached Hinata and Bokuto.
Practice went on mostly as normal, but Kiyoomi was off his game after the announcement of the morning. Everyone was a little off, admittedly, but Kiyoomi felt he couldn’t concentrate, knowing as little as he did. Was Miya okay? Was he awake? Would he ever play again?
Kiyoomi’s frustration peaked as his thoughts became consumed with Miya anew. Why was this occupying him so much? He told himself it was out of concern for the team’s success, and tried to focus more on the practice match going on around him. The day already felt long, and it wasn’t even 09:00 yet.
By the time the morning’s training session had ended, making way for a lunch break and the afternoon’s conditioning in the lifting room, Kiyoomi was nearing the end of his rope. Hinata and Bokuto had still refused to tell him anything, even though he knew they knew something, at least more than anyone else did. They were Miya’s closest friends on the team, after all.
Kiyoomi did not consider himself a friend of Miya’s - he assumed the sentiment was mutual. They only bickered with each other, and on the off chance one of them was friendly, it was really only when Miya was drunk at a team outing and seemed to be overall less inclined towards animosity. Kiyoomi didn’t attribute these instances of kindness to anything to do with himself.
That didn’t answer the question of why Miya’s absence was eating at him so much. Afternoon conditioning went by, and Kiyoomi felt himself going through the motions, mind elsewhere. By the time he had made his way back to his apartment, he was feeling angry; not at anyone else, but himself. Why was Miya’s supposed injury taking up so much space in his mind? As the lock to Kiyoomi’s apartment clicked open, he ripped his shoes off and carelessly dropped his gym bag on the bench in the entryway. Normally, he would have carefully placed his trainers in the cabinet by the door, and immediately begun emptying his bag and stowing it in his coat closet, but today felt so far from normal he couldn’t be bothered.
He had been so sure in the morning that his concern for Miya’s wellbeing was just a reflection of his concern for the team’s success - he wasn’t an idiot, and as much as he merely tolerated Miya’s presence, he knew the setter was necessary to their progress in the professional circuit this season. He wasn’t going to entertain the possibility that he was worried not just for the team, but for Miya himself - that wasn’t something he wanted to look too far into.
Despite already having taken a shower in the gym’s locker room, he took another one, ice cold water splashing his back as he tried to focus on other things. The long tendrils of his hair hung in front of his face; he needed a haircut. Maybe he would feel normal in the morning, less on edge. He was probably just tired, and anxious for the start of the season. There wasn’t any other reason to be so preoccupied over someone he tolerated at best.
The week continued on in much the same way Monday had: morning practice, afternoon conditioning, sometimes an evening run or yoga. Resolutely trying not to think about Miya, probably in some hospital in rural Hyogo, possibly awake, maybe in surgery. Foster hadn’t given them any more updates, and Kiyoomi refused to ask Hinata and Bokuto again. He had decided Monday night that he wouldn’t put any more thought towards Miya, at least not anymore than others on the team did. It proved more difficult than he had hoped.
On Thursday, though, Hinata and Bokuto looked more despondent than they had all week with Miya’s absence, and Kiyoomi finally broke.
“You either tell me something now, or I find some way to force it out of you.”
He wasn’t one for blackmail, but he wasn’t above it, either. He knew Hinata had a crush on one of the physical trainers, and he knew Bokuto regularly disregarded the diet plan with all-you-can-eat yakiniku. Kiyoomi expressed as much to the pair, both of whom immediately tensed.
“That’s a low blow, Omi-kun,” Bokuto grumbled.
“How did you know that, Omi-san?” Hinata yelled, failing to keep his voice at a reasonable volume in the quiet gym.
“You two are so blatantly obvious with it,” Kiyoomi replied. Hinata, that one was easy - he was an open book most of the time. Bokuto - he had found a receipt on the floor of the locker room last season from a nearby yakiniku restaurant. They weren’t subtle.
“If we tell you anything, you have to promise not to tell anyone else on the team, even Foster. ‘Tsumu wants to break this news to everyone himself, including the coaching staff.”
Bokuto looked more serious than normal, and Kiyoomi’s heart rate spiked, just a little. What could be so serious that Atsumu would want to give the news himself?
“Myaa-sam was driving when they were hit by a speeding motorcycle, and Atsumu was on the side that the other driver hit. His left arm was broken, so it will be in a cast for a few weeks…” Hinata trailed off.
“But his leg was crushed by the door, and the doctors aren’t sure if he will be able to walk normally again.”
Kiyoomi froze. It took him a few seconds to process what Hinata had said, but he remained silent.
“They moved him to another hospital, and he’s having surgery today in Amagasaki… we’re going to visit him tonight, if you want to come with us,” Bokuto asked, hesitant. Hinata was wringing his hands, anxiety emanating from him. “But you can’t tell anyone, ‘Tsumu’ll be really upset.”
“Why the hell does he not want anyone to know this?”
Hinata shook his head. “We aren’t sure, Omi-san. We tried to talk him into telling Coach more details at least, but he wouldn’t budge.”
“We think he might not be… dealing with it very well,” Bokuto finished.
Kiyoomi clenched his fist. “What time are you leaving?”
The pair met each other’s eyes. “Well, there’s a bullet train around 15:00, so we asked Coach to let us leave early. He’d probably let you go too.”
Kiyoomi began to turn away from them, heading in Foster’s direction. “I’ll see you at the station, then,” any notions of trying not to worry about Miya forgotten.
Kiyoomi met the other two on the train platform; both of them were carrying overnight bags, and he supposed he should have packed something as well, but there was a returning train later tonight. He could show up, verify Miya was alive and would hopefully walk again after the surgery, and then leave.
The train pulled into the station, and Hinata and Bokuto took two seats together, leaving Kiyoomi the other side of the four-seater around a table. He appreciated them giving him some space. He didn’t mind crowded spaces too much, but he liked to avoid them if he could.
The train ride was mostly silent on Kiyoomi’s part; the other two chatted between themselves, more somber than usual. They wouldn’t hear any news on Atsumu’s surgery until after the train was due to arrive in Amagasaki. By the time they caught a cab to the orthopedic surgical clinic where Miya had his operation, Bokuto received a text from Osamu.
“‘He’s out of surgery. Doctor said it went fine, but they can’t know for certain how well he will recover. Will be out for the season at the very least though. See y’all soon,’” Bokuto read.
Hinata breathed a sigh of relief. “At least the surgery went well.”
Kiyoomi frowned. “Yeah, but he’s out for the whole season, maybe more. He’s not gonna be happy about that, and his arm is broken. How the hell is he supposed to do anything when half his body isn’t working right?”
Bokuto turned toward them, away from his phone. “Myaa-sam might be moving to Osaka for a little while, but he’s not sure how he’s gonna manage the shop while he’s taking care of Atsumu.”
“Why can’t we just help him?” Kiyoomi asked, exasperated. They were making this too complicated. Bokuto raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Well, Myaa-sam didn’t really trust us to do it correctly…”
“Why? Does he have any authority on the subject of injury recovery?” Kiyoomi retorted.
“Not really, but it’s his brother. Why, do you know anything about it, Omi-omi?”
Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “I’ve been in physical therapy on and off since middle school, you idiot.” He held up his wrists, flicking them for emphasis. “I have hypemobile joints. How did you not notice this?”
Bokuto shrugged, long past taking any of Kiyoomi’s insults personally. “If you think you can do a better job than Myaa-sam, then you can take care of ‘Tsumu.”
“Maybe I will.”
Hinata’s eyes widened, and Bokuto raised one eyebrow. “Omi-san, that’s so nice of you!”
Kiyoomi scowled. “I said ‘maybe.’ Miya doesn’t even like me, I’m sure he’d rather have you two or his brother watching him.”
Hinata looked skeptical. “I think you’d be surprised by what ‘Tsumu might prefer.”
Kiyoomi ignored his comment, already considering how difficult it would be to help Miya during recovery. He thought Hinata and Bokuto could handle helping if he was supervising them. There was no one else, not even Osamu, that had the experience he had. And he knew he lived in the apartment building next to Atsumu (the same one Hinata and Bokuto shared an apartment in too). It wouldn’t be that much of an inconvenience to check on Atsumu a couple times a day, help him get to practice so he could watch, make him some meals and bring him to the physical therapist. He thought, with his help, Atsumu would have to make a full recovery. There weren’t any other options Kiyoomi was willing to consider. “I’ll talk to Osamu about it.”
The cab rolled into a small parking lot and dropped them off at the front entrance of the clinic. Osamu waited by the doors, and a wave of surprise washed over his face when he looked up and saw Kiyoomi.
“Sakusa-san, I didn’t know you were coming.”
Kiyoomi noted some hostility in his voice, but he wasn’t really sure why. “I came to check on Miya. I think it’s a normal thing for a teammate to do.”
Osamu shrugged. Another figure pushed through the front doors; Kiyoomi hadn’t seen Suna Rintarou since last season, but he wasn’t shocked to see him here as well. Suna’s face mirrored the initial surprise on Osamu’s, before he seemed to accept Kiyoomi’s presence and motioned for them to come inside. He led them down a long hallway, explaining, “‘Tsumu just woke up. He might be disoriented. Try not to stress him out,” he said, with a pointed look at Kiyoomi.
He resented the accusation, since usually the one who started their little fights was Atsumu, but he didn’t say anything.
A doctor walked out of a room up ahead, and her eyes brightened in recognition when she saw Osamu and Suna. “These Miya-san’s friends?”
“Some of them,” Suna responded.
“Oh, okay! Well, you’re free to go in and see him. Visiting hours are until 22:00. He’s waking up right now.”
“Thank you!” Hinata chirped, walking past her with Bokuto into the post-op room. Osamu gave Kiyoomi an evaluating glance before stepping into the room as well, Suna following close behind. Kiyoomi paused, then accompanied them inside.
To say Atsumu was out of it would be an understatement. He had a dopey smile on his face, and his leg and arm were wrapped in black casts and suspended away from his body and the bed. He was in a hospital gown, riding low on his chest and up his thighs. Kiyoomi felt like he should look away.
There was an older woman in the room with them, sitting in a chair beside Atsumu’s bed. Kiyoomi supposed he should have expected to meet the twin’s mother, but he hadn’t really considered the possibility in his impulsive decision to come with Hinata and Bokuto. Miya-san smiled warmly at Kiyoomi’s teammates, getting up to hug them before sending a questioning look towards Osamu.
“Who is this young man, ‘Samu?”
Osamu glanced at Kiyoomi, then gave a pointed look back towards his mother. “Sakusa-san, ‘Tsumu’s teammate.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” She didn’t make any indication of recognizing Kiyoomi, but he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t see any reason why Atsumu’s mother would know who he was - he had been on the team for almost two seasons now, but Atsumu had been there for much longer, and she was probably more accustomed to the older players (even if she clearly recognized Hinata).
Kiyoomi bowed, “I was very sorry to hear about Miya-san. I hope he makes a full recovery.”
She smiled, “Ah, thank you. Well, you can tell him that yourself.”
Atsumu’s mother moved aside, where Kiyoomi could see Hinata and Bokuto gently hugging Atsumu on his right side. Atsumu’s face looked happy, and his eyes widened further when he saw Kiyoomi.
“Omi-kun! Yer here!”
Kiyoomi wasn’t sure whether he should move closer to the bed. He felt a little awkward, like he was intruding on a family moment, but he took a hesitant step forward. “Hello, Miya. You’re looking well.”
Atsumu laughed, and Kiyoomi supposed he probably shouldn’t have said that based on the look Osamu gave him, but Atsumu didn’t seem to mind. This was their usual.
“I’ve been better, Omi-kun.” He motioned Kiyoomi forward. “C’mere, you’re so far away!”
Hinata and Bokuto moved aside as Kiyoomi stepped closer. He glanced behind him quickly, and seeing Osamu and Suna in conversation with Atsumu’s mother, he closed the distance to the bed. Atsumu extended his arm and made grabby motions with his hand, and Kiyoomi uncertainly leaned over Atsumu on the bed, bracing his arm against the covers near Atsumu’s elbow. Atsumu’s arm wrapped around his shoulders, his head tucking into Kiyoomi’s neck, and Kiyoomi felt his face heat before pulling back, startled. Atsumu didn’t seem to notice, smiling and looking dazed.
“Ya need a haircut, Omi-kun,” he said, pulling on Kiyoomi’s bangs curling over his forehead.
Kiyoomi felt very out of his depth here, with Atsumu being strangely affectionate (and excited to see him, despite apparently not wanting anyone on the team to come). Hinata and Bokuto both had an alarmed look on their faces.
“Haha, ‘Tsumu-san, I don’t think Omi-san wants you to touch his hair.”
Atsumu’s face fell. “Oh, I’m sorry Omi.”
Kiyoomi shook his head. “No, it’s okay. It’s just hair.”
Atsumu’s face lit up again, and he brought his hand back up to Kiyoomi’s hair, pulling on random strands. Kiyoomi was a little confused, but attributed it to the anesthesia. Atsumu was going to be mortified when he found out how he had acted after the surgery, he thought.
“How are you feeling, ‘Tsum-’tsum?”
“Goooood,” he responded, head lolling to the side and hand falling back to the mattress. “Sleepy.”
“Yeah, doctor said you’re gonna be tired. You had a big day, didn’t you?” Bokuto asked.
Atsumu nodded, eyes drifting closed, but not before he grabbed Kiyoomi’s hand, saying, “‘M glad you’re here, Omi. Thanks for coming.”
Kiyoomi wasn’t really sure what to say. “You… I think you’d do the same for me.”
Atsumu smiled, tired eyes shifting to Hinata and Bokuto, before falling closed again. The other two sat back in their chairs, talking quietly between themselves. Kiyoomi couldn’t really hear what they were saying.
Kiyoomi didn’t really talk to the others much more during the evening, opting instead to sit in one of the chairs scattered around Atsumu’s bed, silently observing the conversations around him. Suna talked to the twin’s mother, relaxed, like he had known her for years - he probably had. Kiyoomi knew the three had been friends since high school, but he had never gotten a grasp on how close the twins were to Suna until today.
Kiyoomi noticed Osamu leave the room, and he trailed after him.
“Hey, Miya-san. Can I talk to you?”
Osamu turned. “Jus’ call me Osamu, no one calls us by our surname.”
Kiyoomi nodded. “What are your plans for Atsumu’s recovery period?”
Osamu’s shoulders fell. “I was tryin’ to avoid thinkin’ about it, but I guess I gotta. My ma can’t handle takin’ care of him full time, and I don’t have the space in my apartment for ‘im. Tryin’ to figure out how I can run my restaurant from Osaka.”
“You don’t need to do that. Hinata, Bokuto, and I can handle it.”
Osamu raised his eyebrows. “I already told them I wasn’t sure they could. Kindly. They seemed to accept it.” He paused. “And I wasn’t bankin’ on you helpin’ out.”
“It seemed counterintuitive to risk your business when the three of us already live within half a kilometer of him.”
“I think ‘Tsumu might not be too keen on you helping out, given your history.”
“What, because we argue sometimes? I argue with everyone.”
“He doesn’t need that stress while he’s recovering.”
“May I remind you that being around those two,” Kiyoomi motioned through the doors towards where Hinata and Bokuto were slumped against Atsumu’s bed, now asleep, “probably ramp him up more than I do. They have enough energy for an entire team.”
“That’s not what I’m talkin’ about.”
“Well, care to elaborate?”
“That’s not my piece to tell,” Osamu replied.
“Well, whatever it is, it doesn’t change that I want to help. You don’t need to risk your business coming to take of Atsumu… just let us handle it. I’ve never had an injury as serious as this, but I’m not completely hopeless when it comes to PT and watching over someone.” Kiyoomi didn’t include that he was used to watching his older siblings’ kids, not wanting to imply Atsumu was a kid himself; he didn’t think Osamu would take it kindly.
“One of you is gonna have to be with him almost constantly the first few weeks,” Osamu sighed, eyes lowering. “I can’t ask that of y’all. And I didn’t think you would want to.”
“Trust me when I say that Hinata and Bokuto certainly don’t mind, and if you’re worried about me, know that I don’t volunteer for things I’m not already willing to do.”
Osamu met Kiyoomi’s eyes briefly, an evaluating look on his face, before acquiescing.
“Okay. Fine. ‘Tsumu didn’t want me to move for him anyway, ‘cept the idiot was insistent he could just take care of himself.”
“That sounds like him.”
Osamu smiled. “He’s not great at relyin’ on others. Don’t tell him I told ya that, though.”
Kiyoomi paused. “I don’t think you need to worry about Hinata and Bokuto, by the way. They’re actually not the most immature on the team.”
Kiyoomi was surprised at his own admission, but he knew it was technically true. Aside from Bokuto’s occasional straying from the meal plan, both of them were rigid in their diets and training plans, and he knew if they could handle the weight of a life of professional sports, they could handle the responsibility of helping take care of Atsumu. Plus, they were Atsumu’s closest friends in Osaka - who else could Osamu trust more?
“Well, thanks, then. I owe all three of ya.”
“Yeah, no problem. Just send me any instructions the doctor gives you. I have to catch the train back soon, but I can come back to help get Atsumu back to Osaka if you need me to.”
Osamu pulled out his phone from his back pocket. “Nah, we got it, I can at least take one day off for that. Gimme yer number, though, ‘case I need to reach ya.”
They exchanged phone numbers briefly, before Osamu headed down the hall towards the vending machines. Kiyoomi was struck, as is usual the few times he’s been around Osamu, by how different the twins were. He glanced into the hospital room, taking in Atsumu’s slack jaw, drool hanging from his open mouth, and smiled before he could realize what he was doing. He wiped a hand down his face and checked the time, before calling a cab and heading back to the train station. Atsumu would stay in the hospital for another night, then Osamu would drive him and the other two back from Amagasaki. Kiyoomi wasn’t sure how they would fit in Osamu’s car, an image of clowns emerging from a comically small vehicle in his mind.
Headlights shone through the front doors of the clinic, signaling the taxi’s arrival, and Kiyoomi stepped out into the cool evening air, taking one last look at the closing doors before sliding into the backseat.