Chapter Text
“Dad, are you listening?”
Kiyoomi freezes, holding his spoonful of food midair, so close yet so far away, and blinks down to meet two unwavering black eyes extremely similar to his very own looking back at him as if she could see right through him.
She has that look on her face. Her little nose scrunched up, eyebrows furrowed and lips turned into a small pout. A look that Kiyoomi knows way too well because it’s the exact same pout he used to make at his parents whenever anything wasn’t going his way.
A pout that seems to say you better be listening to me .
He smiles politely at her, as he always does. “Of course. You were telling me about your new coach.” Kiyoomi assures her before taking the spoonful of food back to his mouth.
Her big black eyes seem to glitter in the dim light of their living room as she nods, turning her pout into a smile that warms Kiyoomi’s heart.
“Yes! He’s so much cool than-,”
“ Cooler , darling,” Kiyoomi corrects her, reaching over to wipe a stray grain of rice from her cheek with a napkin.
“Cooler,” She instantly repeats, completely unbothered. “He’s so much cooler than our other coach, dad! Today he taught us about drills and-”
His mind accidentally turns off about halfway during dinner, right when she is saying something about this new coach promising to teach them about the different types of serves and how to dig each one in the most effective way.
Kiyoomi is a good dad, or at least he thinks he is. He has managed to raise a polite, respectful, smart, and strong girl for seven years, at least. That has to be a sign he’s doing a good job.
He takes care of her, helps her with her homework (not that she needs much help, anyway), watches her favorite movies with her if she finishes her duties early, and even learned how to make different hairstyles so she wouldn’t have to go wearing a ponytail every single day.
So really, no one can blame him for drifting off every once in a while.
Especially after long, exhausting days when all he wants is to put her to bed, kiss her forehead goodnight, and bury himself in his own bed.
The thing is, moving cities is never easy. Moving with a seven years old even less so.
Having to endure a six hours drive, settling in in their new home, unpacking a life-worth of boxes, getting to know the new school, worrying about her fitting in, and actually enjoying her time there, all of this while actively managing the new branch of his expanding company.
It is a lot to handle in less than a week.
Akiko keeps rambling about everything she did at practice today. She’s practically beaming in her seat, vibrating with excitement as she still continues to talk about this amazing coach and everything they will be doing for the upcoming weeks. The remains of her food are completely forgotten as she inches closer to Kiyoomi, too involved in her storytelling.
Kiyoomi is mindlessly nodding, listening but not really processing what she’s saying until something caught his attention.
“He’s also famous, did you know?” She exclaims with a sigh, “He told us he used to be a setter, daddy.”
Kiyoomi’s skin seems to tingle at the word. He looks down at her from his cup of water. “Is that so?”
“Yes!” God, she’s completely smitten. Whoever this new coach is, has completely won her over in less than two days. He must be really good, god knows she isn’t easy to please. She settles back into her seat and looks through the dining room window as if she’s trying to remember something. “I think he said he used to play for the black something…”
Oh , now Kiyoomi’s skin has definitely bloomed into full goosebumps.
“Black… Black Jackals!” She practically jumps in her seat, snapping her big wondering eyes back at him. “Daddy, coach Miya said he used to play setter for the black jackals, isn’t that where you used to play too?”
Kiyoomi chokes on his damn water, struggling to swallow it down and not die like an idiot.
Miya.
He hasn’t heard the name, his name , in so long, the least he expected was to hear it back from his seven years old daughter on a casual Wednesday night.
It can’t be. She cannot be possibly talking about the same Miya he’s thinking about. She can’t. There’s no way in hell they ended up in the same city again.
She can’t be talking about him, can she?
“Coach what ?” He manages out, praying his way-too-smart kid didn’t pick up on his choking, or how red the tip of his ears had gotten, or how he’s suddenly frozen on the spot.
Thankfully, she doesn’t.
“Coach Miya, daddy,” She repeats as if that single name didn’t rock Kiyoomi’s world to the ground. “I was telling you he is going to teach us about-”
Kiyoomi wants to listen, he wants to pay attention to what his daughter is saying so badly, but he can’t . The words are nothing but white noise in his ears as he keeps replaying those same words in his mind.
Coach Miya.
He tries to ignore the way his heart jumps in his chest like it hasn’t in a while. He’s a thirty-eight years old man with a kid now, for fuck’s sake. He doesn’t have time to worry about an old crush from the past.
Kiyoomi doesn’t have time to waste wondering what he looks like now. To wonder if he still dies his hair blonde, or if he finally went back to his natural color. To think about how he’s doing, and if he still plays as well as he used to.
Kiyoomi most definitely doesn’t have the time to wonder if Atsumu still remembers him as he does.
No, Kiyoomi has more important things to do. Like getting his daughter to finish her dinner, and make sure they’re both in bed in time.
“Finish your dinner, sweetheart,” Kiyoomi calmly says, pointing out to her almost untouched plate, “You can keep telling more about your day before you go to bed, okay?”
She nods, stopping her never-ending rambling to go back to her plate. Kiyoomi watches her, a small smile breaking through his skin.
Yes, he definitely has more important things to do now.
Okay, fine, maybe Kiyoomi does have a little bit of time to think about Miya Atsumu after all.
Maybe the whole Coach Miya thing hasn’t left his mind since he woke up the next morning, the words still ringing in his mind as he made himself some coffee and got breakfast ready for the two of them.
Maybe, just maybe, Kiyoomi has found himself thinking about Atsumu more times that week than he had done in the past fourteen years. Having to snap back into conversations with his secretary because he got distracted thinking about whether or not he would still have that heavy accent of his.
The truth is, Kiyoomi hadn’t allowed himself to really think about Miya Atsumu before. He couldn’t, because thinking about Atsumu meant thinking about a life, a love, that didn’t fit in his present anymore.
Thinking about him meant thinking about holding hands in-between practices, about shy first kisses that slowly developed into more heated ones. Meant thinking about whispered words and the promise of a future that never really came.
It hurt, at the beginning. Thinking about Atsumu used to hurt, but it doesn’t anymore. Good memories and the remains of a love well lived is all that’s left in Kiyoomi.
There’s no resentment, no “what if’s”, his heart doesn’t clunch in his chest at the thought of their old relationship anymore.
Which is dangerous.
Because now, when Kiyoomi finally allows himself to think about Atsumu, there’s no wondering about the past anymore, but the future. About whether or not this is their second chance.
Still, just because Kiyoomi thinks about Atsumu doesn’t mean he’s ready to see him again.
Fantasizing about having a second chance with who most likely is the love of his damn life is one thing, but actually opening himself up to that possibility is a whole different story.
Kiyoomi doesn’t know shit about Atsumu now. Atsumu could be married for all he fucking knows, the man could have a kid, too. God , Atsumu could have a whole family on his own and Kiyoomi wouldn’t have a clue.
And, to be quite frank with himself, he doesn’t know if he’s ready to find out either.
It’s a bit hypocrite, coming from someone who has his own little family, but the idea of finding out Atsumu has most definitely moved on too, that there’s not a single trace of hope for them to reconnect after all these years, it’s too much to handle for Kiyoomi right now.
Kiyoomi is almost forty now, he doesn’t want to get his heart broken as if he was a teenager.
So maybe that’s why he’s hiding in his car like a fucking coward as he picks up Akiko from practice. Maybe that’s why he decided to wear sunglasses that evening even though the sun is already setting on the horizon in a weak attempt to hide even more.
Maybe, just maybe that’s why he leans over the control panel to open up the passenger door from inside as he sees Akiko running up to the car, her small backpack bouncing as he approaches him, instead of getting off and opening the door for her as he always does.
“Hey sweetheart, how was practice?” Kiyoomi smiles at her trying to keep it cool as if he isn’t ready for her to climb up in the car so he can take off and away.
“What’s with the glasses?” Akiko says, words coming out a little breathy as she stops right before getting in the car.
This smart kid .
Kiyoomi pulls his glasses up, pushing his curls back as he does. “The sun was getting in my eyes,” He lies, extending one arm. “C’mon, give me your backpack.”
She shrugs the backpack off, handing it to him but doesn’t move from where she’s still grounded to the floor.
“Why didn’t you come to pick me up at the door today, daddy?” She asks, crossing her arms across her chest and stomping, she’s stomping her little feet on the ground.
My god.
There are more kids coming out of the doors now, the school entrance suddenly flooding with people, and Kiyoomi’s eyes frantically scan the crowd around. He doesn’t quite know what he’s looking for, it’s not like he’s going to encounter the face of a twenty-four years old Atsumu looking back at him - fuck, he doesn’t even know how Atsumu looks like now -, but at least he’s happy no one seems to return his gaze.
Kiyoomi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Akiko barely throws tantrums anymore, but he knows his kid well enough to know she’s most definitely not getting in the car until she’s happy again.
“I’m sorry sweetheart,” He makes sure to look her in the eye as he speaks, trying to sound as sincere as he feels. “I’m in a bit of a hurry today. I promise I will wait for you by the door tomorrow, yes?”
There’s a moment of silence, or as silent as it can be as there are shouting kids all around them, and then she scrunches his little nose.
“You promise?” God, Kiyoomi’s heart clutches at that.
“I promise. I’ll even bring you your favorite snack, deal?”
That seems to be enough for her as her arms uncross and she smiles back at him.
“Deal. Today was so much fun, daddy!”
Kiyoomi hums, helping her up in the car and closing the door as she settles in the front seat. He’s not particularly excited about waiting for her by the front door when one Miya Atsumu could easily spot him at any time, but he will worry about that tomorrow.
For today, he’s in the clear.
Or at least he thinks so until he leans back up after securing Akiko’s seatbelt, and his eyes meet a weirdly familiar set of brown honey eyes staring back at him from the school door.
It’s a second, it’s a split of a moment and yet Kiyoomi feels trapped in the wisp of time as those warm eyes that he hasn’t seen in a lifetime finally look back at him , and there’s no doubt, even with the weight of years gone by, that that’s Atsumu.
That’s Miya Atsumu .
He watches how, almost as if in slow motion, Atsumu raises a hand above his head, waving hi from the distance. And maybe Kiyoomi is too far away, but he can swear Atsumu is mouthing “ Omi ” as he waves back with a smile on his lips.
God, no , he can’t do this today.
He can’t.
His heart is racing, ears ringing as he gets one hand back on the wheel, the other on the gear shift as he sets the car on drive and hits the accelerator, drifting away from the curb and into the street in one swift motion.
Nope, Kiyoomi is definitely not ready to see Miya Atsumu again.