In late March, Atsumu packed away his Samu's winter jackets. It felt refreshing to step out of the apartment, unconstrained by thick wool layers for once. As he walked to the train station and admired the cherry blossoms that marked the first day of their anticipated bloom, he evaluated options to his next plan of attack.
Since high school graduation, Samu paid no mind to dating, flirting and well, the opposite gender. Tunnel vision, his mind focused only on building Onigiri Miya. Every day was filled with recipe testing, experimenting and an unexpected load of paperwork. Samu didn't voice it out loud, but he was anxious about the grand opening. With practically zero experience of running a business, no professional experience and merely two years of basic culinary school under his belt, the cloud of doubt was inevitable.
Samu must have cracked under his own pressure when he couldn't cook something as basic as rice (albeit, it was a completely new and different type from what he was used to). It didn't occur to Atsumu you'd be a perfect match for his brother until you turned up at the right time, with the four words Samu needed to hear: Rice is the foundation.
It rooted in Samu's mind like a seed in the snow, a growth that defies the frost. It motivated him as if to say, "You perfected the foundation. Now it's time to build the rest."
Samu hadn't asked about you, insisting he had no need for distractions. But that wasn't the truth. After all, Atsumu knew him best. From the way Samu leaned ever-so-slightly when Bokuto and Atsumu casually name-dropped you, to the way he idly kept the goddamn documentary episode about the sticky rice cakes from Jakarta on loop 24 freakin' 7 at the apartment and the tv at the shop, it was obvious you hadn't left Samu's mind.
Likewise, you hadn't asked about Samu either; mind and schedule too busy to even consider romantic opportunities. You were the perfect manager for their chaotic team, even learning how to cook a regional snack to make Adriah Tomas feel less homesick. Like a feral cat, Atsumu was distrustful of you, Miss Goody-Two Shoes, from the beginning. While everyone took an immediate liking to you, Atsumu doubted your motives. Granting favor after favor like a fairy, were you just trying to raise your internal approval score? After all, you were only there for a salary and to promote the Black Jackals.
It took one embarrassing viral video (and countless fan edits) to help him realize he was wrong. At a highly anticipated fan event, Atsumu slipped on stage in front of everyone- children, professionals and the goddamn live tv network (the sound of the crowd's laughter still haunts him to this day). For weeks, he evaded the public eye and the endless stream of memes that took news feeds by storm.
It took one successful reaction viral video to turn everything around. Much to his protest, you dragged him to a production studio and forced him on a chair to confront his fears.
"You have to show the real Miya Atsumu to the world."
Atsumu dreaded it at first but after watching a few funny fan edits, he found it easy to laugh and make fun of himself. The reaction video charted millions of views, surpassing the original embarrassing clip. Miya Atsumu's popularity skyrocketed. Fans and strangers found his personality and witty remarks charming, hilarious and lovable. The requests for interviews, the articles about his career and sports highlights began overlapping the short-lived memes.
You could have easily allowed the embarrassing video to fade, as internet trends do. But you did it to save his self-perception, not public image. You weren't pining for another job promotion; you were like him, always in pursuit of raising the standards for everyone around you.
A few weeks ago, Bokuto spouted some nonsense about how the two of them were owls, to which Atsumu mistakenly found insulting.
Atsumu had smacked Bokuto, to the ace's surprise. He was suddenly feeling self-conscious and his accent slipped out, 'Bokkun, why the hell you callin' me an owl? Is it cus of my hooded eyes? Is it cus my neck is too short?'
Bokuto squinted his eyes, suddenly remembering a term he studied in high school— a psychological defense mechanism called "projection."
'No…? It's because owls are symbols of guidance. Tsum-tsum, you're not owl-looking' anyway.'
Before Atsumu could apologize for lashing out, Bokuto ruined any chance of that by saying, 'If anything, you're like a turtle because of your eyelids and pruny fingertips.'
Atsumu tugged his collar higher as he recalled the memory with his gloved hands. The trauma Bokuto inflicted was still fresh.
Despite Atsumu and Bokuto's efforts to shepherd you to the shop, work always ended up rebuffing their success. Actually - you haven't stopped by the shop's vicinity at all since last season.
'I'd love to stop by Onigiri Miya but I need to jump on a call with Kuroo.'
'Sorry, I need to pick up groceries for Kiyoomi-san.'
'I have a last minute meeting with the MSBY board about branding.'
You had no intention to thwart their plans. You had no idea of it, really. Without realizing it, you demolished Atsumu's intricate schemes, to crumbs. One plan foiled after another, Atsumu challenged himself to dream up more elaborate strategies (with Bokuto's assistance). The odds seemed bleak. The Iron Wall of Date Tech should take notes from your work schedule, honestly speaking.
But that's alright. Atsumu mentally filed away your excuses to use in the future, in case he went on another bad date. If volleyball taught him anything, it's that you can make use of mistakes.
As Atsumu descended into the station to head into morning practice, he pulled out his phone and checked messages. Brain still fogged by sleepiness and schemes, he scrolled mindlessly until a text from Hinata caught his attention.
"Idk what arancini is, but Tomas asked if Manager can bring arancini."
Adriah Tomas, their middle blocker from Spain, still had trouble communicating with you over text. He was still learning kanji. Luckily, Spanish and Portuguese shared some similarity and Hinata leveraged his Spanish fluency (curse that shortie for being multilingual. Atsumu wasn't jealous. Nope. Not at all!) to translate.
The brain fog cleared.
Atsumu sent you a seemingly innocent text message.
"My phone interview with that sports writer got rescheduled to noon. I don't think I have time to pick up food. Could you make arancini for me and bring it after morning practice?"
He checked his watch and knew you were in the middle of your weekly report with Kuroo. But, your schedule usually opened afterwards at noon. If it weren't for that meeting, you usually had a response rate of-
"Sure!"
His phone pinged immediately after his message was marked as read. It didn't surprise him. You were always so diligent.
"Miya-san!" You called out to a familiar figure in front of the shop. At one point in time, the Miya twins had identical physiques, shaped by volleyball conditioning and training. From what Atsumu told you, Osamu began pursuing other interests after graduation.
You saw Atsumu's back often enough to know the shapes and curves of his square shoulders, his maximum reach and the suave, confident movements when he walks. Osamu, lacking the years of intense professional training of his counterpart, had a significantly more slender build. His arms, though less defined than Atsumu's, still filled out his shirt nicely. His posture, more refined and disciplined than Atsumu's carefree slouch.
Miya turned around and waved.
"What a surprise to see you here," He exclaimed, then his expression turned suspicious. "Wait. Did Atsumu send you?"
"Yes! He mentioned that you needed these documents immediately," You brushed off his cynical reaction and handed him a manila packet, which relaxes his expression.
"Oh, I see. It's probably paperwork for the alcohol license I've been waiting for," Miya's face relaxed and tucked the folder under his arm. He was so sure that Atsumu would plan something devious, "Well, I'm closing up shop for lunch. Do you want to join me?"
He gestured to the bag in your hand.
After all, what harm could eating an innocent lunch together do?
As you walk together towards the park where he usually eats lunch, Osamu notices a few sakura blossoms in bloom but doesn't think much of it. The both of you chat about the shop and the steady flow of customers. It was slow for now, but Miya was hoping it would pick up by summer.
"Miya-san, I'm sorry I didn't join you at your grand opening."
He waved it off, "It's honestly not a big deal. How's your day so far?"
You situate yourselves at a table under a shady tree and admire the beauty of spring. As you ramble on about your morning full of unexpected events; how Atsumu's interview got suspiciously rescheduled (and canceled last minute) and asked you to bring him lunch, how Bokuto conveniently had extra food packed and voided Atsumu's request and Adriah Tomas seemed disappointed by some kind of mistranslation, Osamu realized it was cherry blossom season. His usual lunch spot, normally dull and mundane, was surrounded by picnicking couples to admire the first day of spring.
Setters orchestrate attacks. They are tacticians on the hunt for tactical opportunities. Atsumu was no exception. How foolish of Osamu to fall into his brother's hands, like a puppet pulled by string.
"Miya-san?" You interrupted his thoughts, blissfully unaware of the shoujo manga situation.
"Ah, it's nothing." Osamu shakes his head. It's fine, he reassures himself. We'll just talk about work and food and nothing will happen. He gestures to your bento, assuming it's a typical Japanese lunch. Probably rice and fish, maybe a standard cute character but nothing special "So, what did you bring for lunch?"
"Arancini," you say, unveiling a batch of golden brown cone-shaped rice balls. Though they weren't uniform in size and color, some accidentally burnt darker than the others, it still looked delectable.
He was bewildered, absolutely dead wrong about your lunch, "How did you learn to cook this?"
"Adriah Tomas shared his grandma's recipe with me. He thinks I make it better than him, so I'm really proud!"
Osamu sits in silence, contemplating if this was also part of Atsumu's master plan. Did he trick you into cooking something wonderfully unique to appeal to Osamu's natural curiosity of food?
You notice Osamu staring a little too intently at your lunch and decide it would be rude not to offer him any. He happily takes your foreign food and the negative thoughts about Atsumu ward off with each chew. He compliments the taste, in which you credit to Tomas's family recipe.
"I haven't seen arancini like this before," Osamu says, inspecting the unique shape. Arancini was typically made round.
"Tomas told me his grandma is from one of the islands in the Mediterranean," You explained, sweeping a crumb off the corner of your mouth, "I thought it was interesting so I looked it up. In that region, they shape their rice balls like a cone to represent the largest volcano in the sea."
"Oh? Did they do that to appease the volcano from erupting?"
"Yes! Whenever the volcano did erupt, some people even left a bottle of wine in their kitchen before escaping so the gods would spare them. Nowadays, some people still leave a bottle of wine for good luck and fortune."
"That's interesting," Osamu hums, thinking of its similar origins to onigiri, "In the past, our people moulded rice balls into the shape of a mountain to ask the gods for protection."
"Ah, I see! I didn't know that. Is that why people think onigiri came from the words oni o kiru - To cut down evil spirits?"
He nods and offers to share his lunch with you too, Japanese rice balls. Food tastes better when shared.
"Anyway, have you been promoting your business?" You asked.
"I have," Osamu declared proudly, wanting to impress the Black Jackals' promotions manager that he too did PR work. He pulls out his phone and confidently shows off Onigiri Miya's social media page.
The smile falls off your face almost immediately when you see the grid, full of dimly lit photos and... what was that? A video of the street?
"I even took a video so people know how to get to Onigiri Miya from this park." said Osamu, flaunting a shaky video recorded in first-person with no narration.
The logo looked like it was drawn on paint with the triangle and rectangle tools?
"Look, I designed it myself!"
Every post caption only had the address?
"I put the address whenever I post a photo! This is called a call to action, right?"
Oh boy. And here, you thought that reigning in Hinata to prep for a press conference was a hard project.
"Miya-san…" You smiled nervously, unsure of where to start.
"If you got any advice for me, I'm all ears," He smiled genuinely, "I know you've worked long enough with Tsumu to know he's sensitive, but I don't take anythin' personally."
"Oversensitive is more like it," You laughed, feeling relieved that you didn't have to tread lightly, "Did you know he's really insecure about his fingertips now? He's self conscious when they get wrinkly."
Osamu chortles, "Seriously? Is that why he started wearing gloves?"
"Yes! Bokuto called him a turtle. Now he's really concerned about summer because apparently, that's the season when his fingertips will get really dry. I feel so bad for Atsumu."
"Nice goin', Bokuto! But nah, don't feel bad for the turtle."
Elsewhere, Bokuto suddenly jolted, if struck by lightning, "Hey hey hey! My sixth sense is triggered!"
Atsumu feels a cold draft and sneezes, his gloved hands cradling himself. "Ugh. I think I sense something too."
"What, like you can sense an earthquake coming?" Kiyoomi asked sarcastically, unimpressed.
Hinata's eyes shined with admiration, "You guys can sense earthquakes? That's so cooooool!"
"No, but I can feel when I'm being praised!"
"And I can feel when Samu's talkin' shit!"
Unlike Atsumu, Osamu did not take criticism to heart. When you rattled off some advice, he listened diligently and pulled out the notepad app to jot down your pointers. He was inspired to work harder to build Onigiri Miya's reputation.
By the end of lunch, you were both disappointed to leave. You suggested exchanging phone numbers, which he was happy to do.
"You can put me under your contacts as Osamu." He shrugs, trying not to make a big deal, "Miya is too formal."
"Okay, Osamu," You smiled. His name slipped off your tongue so naturally, "Let me know if you have any questions. I'm always happy to help."
Osamu unlocks the shop and begins prepping for the next shift. When he cuts the nori, he thinks about your nose creases when you laugh and the way your bottom lip juts when you pout. When he swipes the cutting board with a sponge, he thinks about you gently brushing the fragile petals from your hair, careful not to damage the beauty of nature's work that only comes once a year. When he chops the pickled plums, he thinks about the blush that creeps across your cheeks when you call him Osamu, and wonders if his face were pink like sakura too.
As he begins shaping the rice around the filling, he ponders the origins of onigiri. Different regions would refer to rice balls as omusubi rather than onigiri. Historians would often speculate that omusubi originated from the words en o musubu - to forge a relationship.
When Osamu finishes the first batch of onigiri and plunks them into the display case, he follows your advice to crouch and snap a photo at an optimal angle. He uploads it onto Onigiri Miya's social media with a leading question to spark engagement: Which one is your favorite?
Almost immediately, he gets notification of a comment.
Could it be you?
Quickly, his thumb swipes to the next tab and reads the comment from Kōtarō Bokuto Official ✓ (Bokuto was over the moon when you got him verified): Hey hey hey! You can't go wrong with the grilled beef onigiri!
Finally, Osamu realizes that all day, from cooking to cleaning to content creation, he's thinking nonstop about you. He smiled and put away his phone. Maybe, it would be okay to take a step forward in what feels like the right direction.
During dinner with Atsumu, Bokuto and Kiyoomi, you check your text messages and feel your heart do a somersault.
Lunch again next week? Same time, same place?
To any other text, be it business or a friend, you would reply immediately. But for the first time, you hesitated. You were struggling to craft the right response; What if you sounded too needy? Too boring? Not interested enough? Should you use an exclamation point? The tone had to be set just right.
Hi Osamu. I'd like that.
"HUH?! That's not fair!" Atsumu cried. You had no idea he was looming over your shoulder, blatantly reading your private life.
"I ain't gonna lose to him! You just started calling me Atsumu but you're callin' him Osamu after knowing him for 3 months?" He passionately protested. Though his goal was to get the both of you romantically involved, he still felt competitive, "Kay. You need to call me Tsumu from now on."
"You're still formal with me too." Bokuto realized, "Hey hey hey! You can call me Bokkun!"
"Does anyone have any other requests?" You asked nervously. Eyes darted to the germaphobe, sitting significantly further away from everyone else.
"Omi-omi," Atsumu volunteered his endearing nickname for the ace spiker.
"Nope." Kiyoomi shut that down immediately; face half covered by a mask, but his expressive eyes narrowed accusingly. You laughed, taking note of his wishes and excused yourself to take a call from Kuroo.
When you walked out the door, Atsumu and Bokuto invaded Kiyoomi's personal bubble.
"Wear a mask! You're too close!" Kiyoomi yelled, disgusted by his teammates' excited, germy faces.
"Hey hey hey! Phase 2 was a success!" Bokuto cheered. Kiyoomi had no clue what he was on about, but judging from their enthusiasm and the timing of Osamu's texts, this was probably a matchmaking scheme.
"Phase 3 depends on you, Omi-omi," Atsumu smirked, pointing at Kiyoomi, "Time to get yer hands dirty."
"I have no intentions to meddle. Aren't you technically in Phase 2? You didn't exactly plan for her to meet Osamu the first time... Also, I would never!" Kiyoomi shielded his hands at Atsumu's idiom.
"That's okay, you can wear gloves so your hands can't get dirty," quipped Bokuto.
"You guys, it was just a figure of speech- nevermind." Atsumu shook his head, then decided to pick a different approach to attack. "Look, don't you care about our manager's happiness? She does so much for you, don't you want to do something for her?"
Kiyoomi groaned, "Why are you guilt tripping me, you turtle?"
"Imma spit on yer hands! Die, ya scum!"
Kiyoomi ignored Atsumu's childish threats and inspected the tall gift box you brought. It was situated next to Atsumu to bring home to Osamu (Tsumu was disappointed it wasn't for him, but he cheered up immediately when you presented him with hand cream). He read your neat handwriting on the side of the box,
Mount Kinosaki won't erupt any time soon, but here's an offering for Onigiri Miya's kitchen - just in case.
Kiyoomi Sakusa didn't like to meddle. But Atsumu had a point, you always went above and beyond for him; picking up groceries during tourist season, chastising vendors for not packing meals as hygienically as requested on his behalf, keeping an extra box of gloves and wearing a mask when you speak to him.
Sakusa decided he wanted to gently push you to happiness, too.