July 18th, 2008

He saw the first hate comment at breakfast, courtesy of Osamu scrolling through the family laptop. Breakfast was last night's leftover pasta. Osamu must have heated it up, because Akari was nowhere to be found.

Atsumu positioned himself behind his brother's chair and leaned over his shoulder. On the official website forum for KidProdigy, hundreds of people had left negative comments and reviews—not for the show, but for him.

It was all the same thing.

Either some variation of 'I pity the other children' or 'I hope he gets booted from the show'. Occasionally, they'd have a 'what were his parents thinking when they raised him?'. To his aggravation, the majority of people were offering sympathy for Megumi.

"What a buncha losers," Atsumu snorted before digging through his nose for a booger. He flicked it into the sink.

Osamu turned around halfway. "I mean, it does look pretty bad to the average viewer."

"So?" Atsumu retorted. "They gotta stop being such babies, then."

"Still, maybe you should be more careful with what ya say."

"But that's, like, lettin' 'em win."

"You really gotta learn how ta pick yer fights better."

Atsumu shrugged. "Where's ma?"

"Grocery shoppin'. Said she wanted us to practice while we're not filmin'." Osamu reached to the side to pick up a juice box that Atsumu hadn't noticed before. "Don't worry too about the comments, by the way. They're just cowards hidin' behind a screen."

"I wasn't worried." Atsumu couldn't keep the snip from his tone, but he knew Osamu wouldn't take it personally. "Kinda pissed, yeah, but not worried." As if to make a point, he got the remaining leftovers from the fridge and a carton of milk. There was some pudding inside, too, and he made a mental note to eat that before Osamu could. "Everything's gonna be fine."

Just fine.

July 22nd, 2008

Filming started pretty early in the morning, and Atsumu let out a huge yawn as they stepped into the building. The waiting lobby was filled with gossiping parents, as it usually was, and they all turned to look at him as he walked in with Osamu and their mother. Akari, noticing the attention, frowned before putting on a megawatt smile, which made the other adults in the room relax.

Akari kissed them both on the forehead. "I'll see you in a few hours."

"Yep," said Osamu.

As usual, Atsumu didn't reply. This time, though, it was a bit different. Normally, ignoring his mother was something he chose to do, but right now... All that was in his mind were the collective glances that they had given him just moments ago.

"Wish they'd stop starin'," he grumbled, still feeling their eyes on the back of his head as they trudged down the corridor and toward the set. "I'm surprised they can even tell us apart."

Osamu gave him a look. "Have ya forgotten what we're wearin'?"

At his words, Atsumu peered down. His name was imprinted on bold characters on the front of his sweater. Osamu's sweater had his own name on it, too. The clothes had been custom-made gifts from the staff. "Oh. Right."

There was some kind of setback, apparently, and filming was delayed by half an hour. The twins were directed to a different room, where all the other kids were waiting, too. All the beanbags had been taken already. One of the girls had a hot pink flip phone, and some of the other female contestants were crowding around her with envy in their eyes.

"Megumi-chan, your phone is so cute!"

"I love your phone charm, Megumi-chan."

Misumi Megumi. Atsumu had become very familiar with her name over the past few days. Mostly because their contestant profiles had been posted on the official website, he had spent a considerable amount of his Saturday glaring at her grinning picture. Just the mere mention of her name would send him into a terrible mood—she was such a useless crybaby.

Megumi seemed to preen under the attention her phone was getting. "Aw, thanks guys~!"

"It's a pretty nice phone," a male voice chimed, and Atsumu's cheek twitched as Oikawa Tooru sauntered up to them with his hands in his pockets. There were a few boys and girls trailing after him, too—he was quite the popular one. "Did your mom buy it for you?"

"Yeah, she did!"

"Whoaa, lucky!"

Their cliques delved into conversation, and Atsumu made a gagging noise that only Osamu heard. His brother snickered. For the most part, they just ignored the conversation around them, talking to each other. But then Megumi's voice carried across the whole room.

"Did you guys watch the Thursday debut?"

"I did!" said a stocky boy, raising his hand as if he were in a classroom. "It was wicked!"

Atsumu scoffed over the excited murmurs. "Calm down. They barely showed you on camera."

The boy's face fell.

"They only really showed Hanae-chan and Atsumu-san," pointed out Oikawa, mildly. He got a few nods.

Hanae Miyo darted her eyes away, startled by the sudden mention of her name. "Um, yeah..." She didn't have to worry any longer, though, because the attention shifted to Atsumu instead. If they had shown Hanae, it was because she was probably the best chef among all of them, even Osamu. But Atsumu was an average cook, one who only knew what to do because nobody grew up with Osamu as their twin not knowing how to cook. The only reason why he had gotten more screen time was purely because of his attitude, and he knew that.

They all did.

"Atsumu-san," Oikawa addressed him, not looking as playful as he normally did. "I think you should be more careful."

Before Atsumu could kindly tell him to mind his own business with a sentence full of expletives, someone else cried, "What do you mean, Oikawa-kun?"

"I—"

The door opened, and there stood Takagi. "Everyone, you can come out now. Filming's about to begin!"

Whatever Oikawa had been about to say went forgotten as they all streamed out in an orderly fashion. Atsumu held his head up high as they all lined up in front of the camera, refusing to twiddle his thumbs like some of them were doing. Both Oikawa and Osamu had warned him from speaking his mind too much, and while he had been prepared to turn his nose up at their advice, he was starting to reconsider.

Fine, he relented inwardly. I'll dial it down a bit.

Atsumu performed considerably better today in terms of his behavior, if he did say so himself. He snapped at someone once for getting in his way, and it wasn't Megumi, which was the important thing. He didn't need anyone offering their saccharine sympathies anymore than they already did. If he had done any other things, he was sure it was while the cameras were focused on a different person. Hanae did have a tendency to hog the camera, even when it was clear she didn't want to, and they had give Osamu some of the spotlight today if the cameras surrounding him seventy percent of the time were any indication.

Guess I'm good to go, then.

At the end of the day, they all retrieved their things from their lockers and headed down to the lobby, where their parents would pick them up.

"That's rare," Osamu said to him as they walked down the corridor. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"What day?"

A slow smirk. "The one where I see you swallowin' yer pride."

"Aw, shove off. I just wanted to get 'em off my back."

"Think it worked?" That wasn't Osamu's voice.

Atsumu jumped as he noticed Oikawa walking alongside him for the first time. "What the—when did you get here?!"

Oikawa pouted. "How mean. I've been walking with you this whole time." Atsumu glared at him, and he shrugged. "Fine, I just got here. I came to congratulate you, I guess. Y'know," he gestured at him, "It must've been hard not being an asshole, right?"

"I wouldn't hafta be if everyone here weren't so stupid," he snapped.

"'Tsumu," Osamu warned.

"What? What, 'Samu?"

"Everyone's starin'."

By 'everyone', Atsumu quickly found that he meant the kids and their parents who were still in the lobby. He hadn't even realized they had already traveled down to the end of the hallway. He felt his ears grow hot as he tried to maintain a brave face. The scornful looks of his teammates and opponents he was used to handling, but adults were a whole different breed. "Well—"

"I'm sorry I knocked over your food!" Oikawa suddenly shouted, bowing to him dramatically.

Huh? What's he talking about?

Osamu seemed to have caught on. "That's alright, we all make mistakes. Right, 'Tsumu?" The point of his elbow was digging painfully into Atsumu's ribs.

"Uh. Right."

Oikawa went on ahead, waving back to them. "I'll see you guys tomorrow!"

The condemning gazes looked away.

"What was that all about?" Atsumu murmured, unsettled.

"You still don't get it?" Osamu raised his brow. "Oikawa just saved your sorry ass."

"Ah." Now he got it. "He didn't hafta do that."

"No," Osamu agreed. "But he did anyway."

Akari greeted them with open arms.

July 23rd, 2008

Tuesday's episode was aired on Wednesday night, from seven-thirty till eight-thirty. Wednesday's episode would be aired on Thursday, Thursday's on Sunday, and Sunday's on Tuesday. Filming was always one step ahead from airing. Once again, Akari, Osamu, and Atsumu were gathered in front of the television with their dinners. It was Osamu's cooking tonight, and Atsumu was already on his second helping.

Everything was okay at first. They didn't really show him in the first half of the segment, but then—

"Watch where you're going!" the Atsumu on television bellowed, his face twisting in annoyance. From the camera angle, it appeared as though he had been the one to ram into a shorter boy.

The boy gulped. "S-sorry!" Then he scuttled off, and Atsumu recognized him in that instant—it was the boy whose foot he had accidentally trampled upon on introduction day.

No... His heart sank. "It's not what it looks like—"

But Akari had already stood up, anger clear on her face. "Stop. I don't want to hear excuses right now." She sighed deeply, lifting one hand to rub her temple. "I'm going to go fix myself a drink. You boys stay here."

Atsumu turned to his brother. "You believe me, right?"

"Of course," Osamu answered. "I mean, yer an ass, but not that big an ass."

"Right?! That kid was the one who ran into me!"

Their mother returned just as it cut to an interview with none other than Misumi Megumi. As she began to speak, Atsumu's blood chilled, and he could hear his heart thrum between his ears. Her mouth moved, her words accompanied with subtitles at the bottom of the screen.

"Ahh... What do I think of Miya Atsumu?" Megumi echoed a question that had been asked but edited out of the final product. She wrung her hands before holding them close to the printed crocodile on her t-shirt. "Um... He's not afraid to speak his mind. He's a little scary, too, so I don't really want to get on his bad side..."

Then it transitioned to show another contestant—the stocky boy he had pretty much told off today—whisking a concoction in a metal bowl. The scene was brief, and soon transitioned to another interview with the same boy. His name was Takahashi Eiji, a name that Atsumu had never really bothered to learn by his own accord. "I don't have much of an opinion of him, I guess. But he seems to get annoyed a lot."

"Oi, 'Tsumu." Osamu tapped his shoulder but he didn't feel or hear him.

These bastards...! Atsumu gripped the edges of the coffee table with all his might, his brown eyes fixed on the television. "It's not my fault! I even acted good today! Ma, you gotta believe me!"

Akari's face was hard. "Atsumu... You've always been the more difficult one..."

Was she really comparing him to his brother? Now of all times? He glared at her and she glared back.

"Ma, 'Tsumu, look."

Osamu finally got their attention. He was pointing at the television, where Megumi was putting her almond tuiles in the oven.

"What?" Atsumu gruffed.

"Look at what she's wearin'."

Megumi was dressed in blue overalls over a pink and white striped shirt, her reddish-brown hair held back by a clip. "Yeah?" Atsumu said uncertainly, crossing his arms. "So? What—am I supposed ta say she looks nice or somethin'?"

"No, you idiot." Osamu rolled his eyes. "Do you remember what she was wearin' when they interviewed her?"

"She..." Atsumu's eyes widened. "Holy shit!"

"Language!" reprimanded Akari. "Boys, care to tell me what's going on?"

"The interview and the cooking footage weren't recorded on the same day," Osamu elaborated, lifting his spoon in the air. "They just edited it so that it made it seem like Misumi was talkin' about 'Tsumu at the same time that kid ran into him!"

Atsumu nodded, almost frantically. "Yeah! The same thing with Takahashi, too!"

"This..." Akari hesitated. "This is rather serious." She chewed on her bottom lip. "Fine. I'll speak to the director tomorrow about it."

Osamu held up a hand, which Atsumu slapped as he grinned. Osamu smiled back, both of them mirrors of each other. Then they turned back to the TV and waited for the inevitable—more footage of Atsumu stepping out of line.

And, as they expected, it rolled on through.

"It wasn't as bad as last time," Osamu said as they crawled into bed. Their hotel room had two beds—a single for their mother and a queen-sized bed for the twins. Osamu liked to sleep with his back against the wall while Atsumu liked to sleep with his foot hanging over the side. "I doubt people are gonna care as much."

"True," agreed Atsumu, snuggling under the blanket. The ends of his hair was still slightly damp from the shower. "Can't wait for this to bite Shō in the ass."

"Mmhm."

"Night, 'Samu."

Osamu closed his eyes. "Night, 'Tsumu."

July 24th, 2008

Osamu was wrong. They did care. And Atsumu knew this because he had woken up extra early in the morning to discover his mother missing and the family laptop sitting innocently on the kitchen table. Taking great care not to wake his twin, he had sneaked out of bed and into the kitchen. Then, with great apprehension, he had typed his own name into the Woogle search bar.

More results than he had anticipated showed up. He scrolled through them with a strange vigor, not even noticing that his hand was beginning to cramp from the sudden exercise.

The official KidProdigy website was the first page he checked. The comment section had blown up—all with vile messages that dripped with such acid that even Atsumu grimaced, feeling goosebumps crawl up his arms. His eyes were ringed with dark circles as he continued to read them.

fluffy_duck_mother1 I hate this kid! If he were my child, I would have smacked him a long time ago! Where are his parents? Shouldn't they be disciplining him? Absolutely disgusting. This boy is going to grow up into a failure of an adult in the future. Hopefully, he ends up in prison, where he belongs.

sato_sato_nori wow what a brat lol, you can tell he comes from a rich family from how spoiled he is hahaha

mikoko_1019 he should not be treating the other children like that!11 he needs to get mental help ASAP

hori18 i want to punch his face GRRR SO ANNOYING DIE MIYA ATSUMU DIE DIE DIE BURN IN HELL

pieboy Somebody needs to give him a kick in the ass. Preferably over a cliff.

yumi_mi I'm setting up a Miya Atsumu anti-cafe, anyone want to join? Reply to this comment and I'll private message you the code!

kowai_kitsune Did you see the way he just slammed into poor Sato in last night's episode? Infuriating!

Huh... Atsumu blinked slowly as he re-read the comments. Never before had he experienced something like this. It was... It made his gut clench and his hands shake. Logically, he knew there was nothing to be afraid of. It wasn't like any of these people could find him and hurt him. Probably. Besides, he scowled, Who cares about a buncha no-lifes? It didn't matter if they hated him. He didn't need them to like him. What's this about an anti-cafe, though?

Intrigued, he searched up 'Miya Atsumu anti-cafe' into the search bar. About a dozen or so forums came up—all titled differently but the same in their core. Ignoring the rock that had formed in his stomach—one that was quickly morphing into a stinging ball of ice—he clicked on the first result. A list of threads came up—from most popular to least. It was a new creation, so there weren't many discussion threads yet. Again, he hovered his cursor over the first result.

KIDPRODIGY EP. 4 MIYA ATSUMU DISCUSSION

And it—

Atsumu swallowed, cupping one hand over his mouth as the image was seared into his brain. "Fuckin' hell...!"

Nobody had told him that people would be editing his face onto a slaughtered pig's, the flaps of its belly pinned open in a gruesome welcome into its innards.

Despite not having eaten breakfast yet, his stomach was churning with nausea.

Okay. Okay, calm down. He took several deep breaths. It's fine. It's fine. They're just trolls. They don't mean anythin'.

In the dim hotel room, Osamu's voice rang out. "'Tsumu? Where are ya?"

With trembling hands, Atsumu closed all the incriminating pages and opened up a game website—one which he sometimes played. "Here," he called back, hearing Osamu's feed thud as he got out of bed. "I'm playin' MapleTale."

The skepticism in his brother's tone was clear as day. "At eight in the mornin'?"

"Yeah?" He tried to seem nonchalant. "And?"

"Hmm..." Osamu entered the kitchen area, leaning over Atsumu to check the laptop.

"What?"

"Nothin'. Whaddya wanna eat?"

They were finishing up breakfast when Akari returned, her expression unreadable. It was a little strange—Atsumu had never seen her wear such a perfect poker face before.

"Hey, ma," Osamu intoned, standing to put his empty plate in the sink.

"So, didja talk ta Shō?" Atsumu demanded.

Akari nodded. "I did. Go freshen up, we're leaving soon."

The boys exchanged a glance.

What's up with her? Atsumu thought as they were driven by the hotelier to the set. Akari could be weird at times, but this was a different kind of weird. He didn't like it. "'Samu," he whispered. "Did ma say anythin' to ya?"

Osamu shook his head, equally as out of the loop as he was. "Nothin'. I dunno what's goin' through her head right now, but..."

They hit a bump in the road, and Atsumu's seat belt dug into his neck painfully. "Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his throat. "Okay."

It was supposed to be a normal day—or whatever constituted as normal in his life anyway. But as soon as they stepped into the lobby, gazes turning their way, Assistant Takagi was there to greet them. Atsumu squinted. Is she wearing makeup? Either that, or the dark circles that she normally sported under her eyes had magically disappeared overnight.

"Hello, Miya-san," Takagi said politely, dipping her head. "Would you and Osamu-kun like to come with me? I'll take you to Director Shō's office."

Huh? "What about me?" Atsumu blinked at her. She wasn't too much taller than him, and he would probably tower over her by the time he started middle school next year.

"You can go to the contestant's room with the rest of the children," Takagi informed him.

Atsumu frowned, opening his mouth to protest. But Akari swiftly put a stop to that.

"Atsumu, just go," their mother said sternly.

"But ain't this about me?" he argued. "Why does 'Samu get ta listen in and I don't?"

Akari lowered her brow. "Not everything is about you, Atsumu! Come," she grabbed Osamu by the hand and jerked him down the hall, where Takagi was heading, "We're going."

For a moment, Atsumu could only stand there, dumbfounded. Just what was going on? It was no secret that Osamu had always been the favorite child, but the favoritism was hitting new heights today. Never had Akari brushed him off so blatantly before. The messages from this morning swam to the forefront of his mind, and he felt his stomach flip again. Does ma even know about that stuff? He clenched his teeth. I bet if it was 'Samu, she would know...

"Ah, it's the trouble twin..."

"Atsumu, right?"

"Did you see the show last night? Disgraceful..."

"Forget the show, did you see what happened just then? Absolutely no respect for his poor mother..."

All around him, the adults continued to gossip, ignoring his presence in the centre of the lobby. Indignation flared up inside him, boiling his blood and making him want to throw his bag at one chattering lady.

Shut up, he wanted to scream at all of them. None of you know anything!

Forcing his feet to move, Atsumu stalked down the corridor, only to nearly bump into a woman emerging from the bathroom. She gave him a look, which he returned. Atsumu knew this woman—or, rather, his mom did. He often saw Akari talking with her in the lobby as they waited for their children. Hanae Ichika—Hanae Miyo's wretched mother.

Muttering an apology, Atsumu stepped aside her and continued on his way. He glared the whole time, walking in a disgruntled march with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Atsumu-san."

He turned around.

Oikawa was jogging up to him, not looking quite as lively as he normally did.

"Oh, it's you."

"Listen... About last night's episode—"

"Save it," Atsumu snapped. "I'm not in the mood for yer gloating, 'kay?"

"I'm not here to gloat," Oikawa said, exasperatedly. "Geez, I'm not that bad." They walked side-by-side. Even when Atsumu tried to speed up, Oikawa matched his pace easily. The brunet boy had longer legs.

"Then whaddya want?"

"I know what they're doing," Oikawa told him earnestly. "It's called devil's editing. I looked it up last night." That made Atsumu pause. Reluctantly, he slowed to a complete stop, waiting for Oikawa to continue. There was still some time before filming commenced. "You noticed it, too, right? Not bad for a knucklehead."

"Who're ya callin' knucklehead, windbag?"

Oikawa didn't deign to continue the name-calling. Good for him, Atsumu supposed. "I'm gonna be blunt. Nobody likes you, Atsumu-san. And I'm not talking about the people on the net—I'm talking about the other kids. But... They don't hate you that much. Not enough to talk too badly about you. That's why they placed the interviews at those specific times."

The faces of Misumi Megumi and Takahashi Eiji flashed in his mind. What—was he supposed to thank them from holding back on him or something? Roughly, he asked, "Why are you tellin' me this?"

"Uh. Because it's wrong?" Oikawa raised both of his brows, as if the answer was obvious. "Like, okay, I'm no saint or anything, but I've read some of your hate comments, and..." He made a hand gesture, trying to find his words. "Geh! Doesn't it bother you?"

"No," Atsumu lied. "Why would I be bothered? They're just words."

Oikawa regarded him with narrowed eyes. "You don't really think that," he accused.

"Shut up, Oikawa." He began to walk ahead.

"So that's it, then?" Oikawa pressed. "You're just gonna roll over and let people say what they want?"

"I can take it!"

"But for how long?"

Atsumu halted, letting loose a shuddering breath. Everything was still seared into his brain, an imprint that would bother him forever. The hate comments, the anti-cafes, the goddamn pig—

"Atsumu-san?"

"My mom's workin' on it, okay?" Atsumu said, his voice wavering. He whipped around, hoping his expression held nothing but the strength he didn't feel but needed right now. "Stop botherin' me, already. I don't need your pity."

"Wait."

"What?"

Atsumu watched curiously as Oikawa put down his backpack and drew out a small notepad and a pen. He scribbled something on it before tearing the paper from the pad and holding it out to him. "Here. It's my number."

He didn't take it. "Uh. Why?"

"Keep me updated," Oikawa said. "And if you wanna talk or something, just send me a text."

Atsumu folded his arms across his chest. "I don't have a phone. And even I did, I'd never text you. Ever."

Oikawa scoffed. "Fine, but keep it anyway. Just in case."

"Ugh." Atsumu snatched the paper from him before shoving it into his hoodie pocket. "Happy?"

A shrug. "Dunno, but we should get going. Last one there's a rotten egg!" With that, he dashed off, backpack bouncing with each step.

"Hey, wait! Dammit, Oikawa, ya dumb bastard!" Swearing under his breath, Atsumu raced after him, feeling—perhaps—just a little lighter than he did earlier.

It was a team challenge today, and it was one of the most hectic experiences of Atsumu's life. He had both Osamu and Oikawa on his team, which was both a curse and a blessing. A blessing because he and Osamu could work in tandem like nobody else, and a curse because Oikawa—while the perfect team player—was a rather horrible cook. Plus, there was just something off about Osamu today, and their team almost ended up in Sunday elimination as a result.

They had made a lot of mistakes—Atsumu had bumped into Osamu multiple times due to the small kitchen space, and the same went with the rest of their teammates. Still, though, they were safe for now.

"Ugh," Atsumu groaned as they all trailed down the hall that led to the lobby. "That was ass."

"Yep," sighed Osamu.

"What's wrong with ya?"

Osamu startled. "Huh?"

"You're acting weird," Atsumu said pointedly, grabbing his brother by the shoulder and forcing him into a halt. The other contestants streamed around them. "Did somethin' happen in Shō's office?"

"It's..." Osamu trailed off, uncertainty—and guilt, was it?—crossing over his features. "They're not gonna stop."

Atsumu blinked once. Then twice. "Wait, what?"

"Shō and ma."

Ma? What's ma gotta do with any of this?! "'Samu, I swear to god, you better tell me what's goin' on right now or I'll sock ya one."

Osamu dragged him to the bathroom, making sure nobody was inside the stalls before he revealed, "You're the cash cow. Whenever ya act up or misbehave... That's when people watch. They watch for you, 'Tsumu."

"Am I supposed ta be fuckin' flattered by that? The things they say about me—!"

"I know!" Osamu burst out, growing more and more distressed by the minute. "But Shō's cuttin' ma a deal and she takin' it."

His heart dropped to his stomach. "What deal?"

"Shō's gonna keep doin' what he's doin to you," Osamu informed him bitterly, unable to look him in the eye. "And... He's gonna do the opposite for me." He managed to glance up, clearly uncomfortable. "He's gonna make me look... good."

"WHAT?!"

"If it works out," Osamu's voice sounded like he was underwater to him, "He's gonna sign a contract with me and ma. One that'll... Let us live away from dad."

"... And what about me?"

Osamu didn't answer.

"... I see."

"'Tsumu," Osamu reached out, "I'm sorry—"

"No," Atsumu swallowed, swatting his hand away, "It's not your fault. Ma took the deal, not you. I'll be fine."

("But for how long?" Oikawa's voice echoed in his head.)

"'Tsumu," Osamu tried again, more desperately, but Atsumu shut him down once more.

"I know how much this means for ya," Atsumu insisted, trying to ignore the hollowness in his chest. "I know how much ya hate dad."

That, Osamu could not deny. Finally, he seemed to accept Atsumu's compliance, but promised, "I'll make ma talk to Shō. We'll take you with us after the show's over. I won't let 'em separate us."

Atsumu did his best to smile. "'Course not." Anythin' for you, 'Samu.

The hate comments, the anti-cafes, the pig—he would keep all that to himself.

A/N: The Atsumu backstory may span over 4 chapters instead of the original 3, but we'll see! I would like to keep it at 3, so hopefully it'll work out :)