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I almost forgot how your smile should be — Kita Shinsuke
Hyōgo, autumn in late October 2020
“Miya … Atsumu?”
The golden eyes of Kita Shinsuke blinked a few times per second as the presence of someone he didn’t expect appeared at the door of his apartment, giving a smile and carrying a backpack on his broad back. Overcoming his surprise, Shinsuke looked left and right along the hallway of his apartment, as he expected an answer to his question from there. A 187 cm tall man in front of him raised his eyebrows briefly before his soft laughter … when was the last time Shinsuke heard it?
“Kita-san,” the man in front of him weaved another smile. “It’s me. Miya Atsumu. Tsumu. Your Kouhai. Your setter.”
Perhaps he was overreacting as Atsumu in front of him elaborated in such a way on something that Shinsuke was very familiar with. A man with silver hair and black accent at its tips quickly stepped aside, pushing the door of his apartment with his back. “Ah, please come in.”
Atsumu entered after giving a nod of acknowledgment. He neatly placed his shoes and his tall frame strode further into the living room of Shinsuke’s apartment. This was his first time visiting, so a few accessories and tools in the living room caught his attention.
“What would you like to drink?” Shinsuke asked as he walked towards the refrigerator. “There’s ocha, orange juice, and ….” Shinsuke glanced at Atsumu, who was already giving him attention. “Or do you still prefer apple juice?”
“Apple juice,” Atsumu decided. He chose to sit on Shinsuke’s long sofa. “I didn’t expect Kita-san to still remember that.”
The sound of clicking glasses taken from the cabinet created a pause. “You guys always drank it after practice, I never forget.”
Atsumu understood the meaning behind the word ‘you guys’, so the young man smiled again as Shinsuke stepped into the living room with a tray holding two glasses of cold apple juice and fruit slices. “As expected, Captain Kitashin.”
A nickname that was once too familiar to his ears now felt strange as it reached them. Shinsuke rolled his eyes before remembering the most crucial thing he should’ve asked from the beginning. “How do you know my apartment? You’ve never been here before.”
“Sunarin,” Atsumu answered promptly. “I remember he mentioned once that he stopped by here while helping his parents move.”
“And … why are you here?” Shinsuke observed how Atsumu’s long fingers paused just before he pierced a peach, then his clear brown eyes returned to meet Shinsuke’s gaze. “Don’t you have any matches coming up soon?”
Atsumu lowered his gaze for a moment before returning it to meet Shinsuke’s eyes. The young man slowly tugged at the corner of his lip. “Would you like to accompany me somewhere?”
“Hmm?” Shinsuke’s eyebrow arched.
“Today marks one year since Osamu’s.”
Oh.
Shinsuke was at a loss of words. His golden eyes were still fixed on Atsumu’s face, while the young man, a year his junior, was busy piercing a peach and chewing it slowly. “I’m sorry ….”
Atsumu paused in his chewing for a moment before swallowing the piece of peach in his mouth. The tip of his index finger gently scratched his temple before he offered an apologetic smile. “I should’ve asked you first if you had free time—"
“No, it’s not,” Shinsuke interjected immediately. His ten fingers clenched together. “I’m sorry … I forgot the date.”
The young Miya didn’t answer immediately. His hand reached across the table and briefly touched the back of Shinsuke’s hand until the owner redirected attention to him. “Why are you apologizing? It’s not your fault, Kita-san.”
There were many refusals on the tip of Shinsuke’s tongue, but he swallowed them all when Atsumu’s face conveyed an implicit ‘it’s okay’. Shinsuke took a slow breath. “When will we go?”
“Are you free now?”
[*]
Kita Shinsuke was not the spontaneous type. He had many lists in his mind about what he should do and alternative ways if his main list didn’t work out. And suddenly, he found himself on a bus with Atsumu who came all the way from Osaka? Shinsuke didn’t know that life could be this spontaneous. And as strange as this.
“I’ve already looked up the route from your apartment.”
Shinsuke looked up from the ticket in his hand towards Atsumu, who was glancing at him. “Sorry?”
Atsumu settled into a comfortable sitting position. He leaned his head against the bus seat while keeping his eyes fixed on Shinsuke. “I know you aren’t the spontaneous type. So, don’t worry because I’ve already memorized how we can get back to your apartment.”
Shinsuke snorted upon hearing Atsumu’s explanation and the young man smiled widely at his reaction. “Alright, I believe in you.”
“By the way, how’s your job?” The bus started moving as Atsumu asked.
Shinsuke nodded as his eyes moved along with the trees. “I should’ve asked for a salary renegotiation.”
Atsumu laughed. “Seriously? That ‘The Kitashin’ talks like this?”
Shinsuke squinted his eyes as he looked at Atsumu. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “The organized Kita-san, the smart Kita-san, and the Kita-san who’s used to being busy? I didn’t think you would have complaints.”
Shinsuke exhaled. “That was me at nineteen, by the way. Seven years isn’t a short time for me to have a complaint about a salary that doesn’t match the responsibilities.”
“For that one, you’re still the logical Kita-san,” Atsumu responded. “And life keeps moving, right?”
There’s something different in Atsumu’s words, so Shinsuke turned his head to look at him. However, Atsumu, who had been staring, now glanced ahead. His tall figure didn’t have any difficulty obtaining a broad view without being obstructed by the passenger seats in front. Aware of being observed, Atsumu turned his face towards Shinsuke. His thick eyebrows arched briefly, seemingly echoing: ‘What?’
Two full years if we go back to nine years ago, since the first time Shinsuke met the young man beside him. The person he scolded the most as a captain. The noisiest on the field. The one who received punishment when caught sneaking to the line while Shinsuke led the briefing. And the shiniest one on the field. Those two years were enough for Shinsuke to remember Atsumu’s expressions when scolded by him, his expressions when nagging with teammates, and his bright expression when he bounced the ball up, which could be hit by their ace—Ojiro Aran—and … Miya Osamu.
It seemed Shinsuke knew why the smile that Atsumu gave him now never reached his eyes.
[*]
I don’t want to say this in front of you, but … on the days when you don’t appear before me, I wish those days had never happened — Miya Atsumu
Hyōgo, early autumn in September 2019
“After graduating from high school, I don’t want to continue playing volleyball.”
Miya Atsumu knew that he and Miya Osamu were the least compatible but had the best teamwork on the court. Two contradictory things in one sentence, he knew it. But, on that day, after those words came out of Miya Osamu’s mouth, they continued to argue even though Kita Shinsuke stood between them. And on that day, for the first time, both of them took different paths to home.
‘The Miya Twins’ wasn’t a foreign name for those involved in the blue-yellow ball universe. Atsumu didn’t feel the need to recount their initial attraction to volleyball, the trajectory of their gameplay until they earned that nickname, but everyone was aware that whenever Atsumu was on the court, there too was Osamu. So, when the words that Atsumu deemed not well-thought-out emerged from his brother’s lip, his mind went blank.
And that argument became the longest argument Atsumu could remember in his life. For almost more than a week, Osamu would go home straight after their mandatory practice, whereas usually, the two of them would continue practicing together until being scolded by Ren, a scolding that unfortunately didn’t work until Shinsuke had to take over. But, on that day, Atsumu didn’t expect to see that expression mirrored on a face so similar to his own.
“What are you thinking about?”
Atsumu startled at the flat-toned voice reprimanding him. He blinked and realized that earlier, he generously offered to peel the apples brought by their parents’ friend into the shape of rabbit. Atsumu cleared his throat a bit before resuming the task of forming the rabbit’s ears.
“Thinking about what kind of payback I’ll give you once you’re out of the hospital,” Atsumu replied nonchalantly.
“Huh?” Osamu responded. “I didn’t tell you to skip today’s match. And I didn’t ask for a rabbit-shaped slice. Where are the apples?”
Atsumu moved the apples out of Osamu’s reach while sticking out his tongue. He could see a frown forming on Osamu’s temple. “Just sit quietly. Your brother is kindly cutting the fruit for you.”
“Brother my ass,”
“What did you say?!”
“We are only three and a half minutes apart, don’t exaggerate,” Osamu responded nonchalantly. His hand took a slice of apple that Atsumu hadn’t carved.
“You ….” Atsumu extended his fist in annoyance before exhaling. “I shouldn’t have been surprised by your words.”
Osamu shrugged his shoulders and Atsumu chose to carve the second slice. In the middle of his knife’s movement, he took a look at Osamu, who was focused on watching a sports program on the television. “Ne, Samu,”
“What?
“Are you planning to temporarily close your restaurant?”
Osamu didn’t seem surprised at Atsumu’s question. He nodded casually. “Hum.”
“Can’t Tanimura-san take care it for you? Why does the restaurant have to be closed?”
“I know your intention in asking this,” Osamu replied, earning a furrowed brow from Atsumu. “You want to have free onigiri again, don’t you?”
Atsumu’s eyes bulged. In frustration, he slammed the sticky apple skin on the knife onto the plate. “Am I that awful in your eyes, huh?!”
“Please don’t say something rhetorical.”
“Woah, hahaha,” Atsumu looked at Osamu in disbelief at his exaggerated antics. “In a past life, were you my servant, so now you’re seeking revenge?”
“Atsumu and his exaggerate behaviour,” Osamu replied.
Atsumu held his self to not shout. “You can really get on my nerves, it seems like you’re perfectly healthy, huh?”
“I think you forgot that I was admitted to the ICU two days ago.”
The refutation that Atsumu had prepared evaporated instantly as Osamu responded with an expressionless face. The only sound was the television, tuned to a low volume. Furthermore, Osamu had no intention of altering the suddenly cold atmosphere due to his statement.
Atsumu glanced at his brother, who was still chewing an apple—this time, it was the second slice. In his twenty-four years life, this was the first time Atsumu had a momentary pause in refuting Osamu’s words. Usually, it was Osamu who chose to withdraw his statements. Osamu, who always preferred silence in their arguments. However, that one sentence seemed to leave Atsumu’s mind empty, much like when Osamu declared that volleyball would no longer be his goal after graduating.
“Hey, do you take my words seriously?”
Atsumu looked up and met Osamu’s gaze, which seemed to say: ‘Are you really taking my joke seriously?’ If Atsumu were to express his thoughts, he would say, ‘Yes, something you consider a joke is occupying a significant portion of my mind right now’ However, Atsumu was Atsumu. He snorted and placed the knife along with the plate of apples on the table.
“I’ll get the coffee first. I’m the one on duty today.”
“You were on duty yesterday. Go home for today.”
Atsumu grabbed his wallet and phone from his sling bag before stuffing them into his jacket pocket. “I can’t leave Mom on duty today, okay? I’ll be out for a bit.”
“Tsumu.”
Atsumu ignored Osamu’s call, letting it fade away behind the door. Standing in the deserted hallway, he clutched the doorknob with something tumultuous in his chest before deciding to head towards the cafeteria on the ground floor.
In reality, a cold canned drink captured his attention more than the coffee that had been his initial reason. Atsumu picked a drink at random, the first one that caught his eyes. He opened the white can with one hand, took a step back, and sat on the nearest bench. He sipped the drink without truly experiencing the sensations of fruit and soda was. His sense seemed to malfunction, mirroring his vacant mind.
Two days ago. It was the day when Atsumu competed against one of his former volleyball teammates from high school—Suna Rintarou—in Osaka. He had been absent to take care of Osamu since three days before the match. Actually, Atsumu had the audacity to consider taking the last train from Hyōgo to Osaka a day before the match, but Osamu’s serious threat that he wouldn’t want to see his face again if he actually went through with it made him abandon his plans. And when he was cheering with his friends for winning the match in four sets, their manager said something that turned the celebration into a tragedy for Atsumu.
It was still vivid in Atsumu’s memory how bewildered and panicked he was when he tried calling their parents, but unfortunately, not a single call was answered. Even with his trembling hand, he had already opened a flight ticket booking application before being halted by Hinata Shouyou. His panic was quelled by their manager, who was willing to take him to the station. Train ticket had already booked by his manager. When they arrived at the station, Atsumu barely heard anything from his manager, probably about his absence in the coming days since he caught the word leave from his manager. When a reassuring pat was given by his manager, Atsumu bowed and ran into the station.
Rintarou had once told him that his bad habit when panicking was easily blaming something unrelated to his personal issue. Atsumu became aware of it when in his murmurs, he cursed how slowly this express train was moving—though, in reality, it wasn’t slowly at all. Atsumu didn’t know how many praises and prayers he whispered to his God or how tightly his hands were clenched on the table, but he didn’t stop until the train came to a halt.
The hospital had become a place he despised in the last few moments. Atsumu realized how his breath became uneasy upon hearing the sound of the vital sign monitor. The rhythmic up-and-down lines on the screen suddenly turned into something he feared. Seeing his unconscious brother with an oxygen tube in his mouth felt like his life was being ripped away, but simultaneously, his soul seemed to return to his body when Osamu opened his eyes.
In those moments, Atsumu hated himself. He hated it when he was angry at Osamu for choosing to leave volleyball after graduating. He hated when he had to recall the time he wasted when he stopped talking to Osamu. Perhaps Atsumu thought he knew everything. Maybe, being twins, he believed that he understood everything about Osamu. However, Atsumu didn’t fully comprehend. He didn’t understand why Osamu seemed more alive in the kitchen, even though they used to celebrate together. Atsumu didn’t realize that the sparkle in his brother’s eyes was more apparent when he was behind the kitchen counter, preparing a plate of onigiri for him, who had come all the way from Osaka—although accompanied by complaints about his fondness for free meals from Osamu.
Or perhaps, in reality, Atsumu felt that volleyball wasn’t the same sport he used to know if he couldn’t see Osamu on the court with him.
And now his brother was sick. Something he never mentioned while they were apart. Something he concealed, using the excuse that he was serving a customer when Atsumu called, although in reality, he was waiting in line for medication at the hospital. Something that Osamu always said: ‘You’re overreacting, you know? My illness isn’t that severe.’ But, swear to God … it’s not like Osamu said.
Atsumu moved the can away and let it met the cold hospital bench. His hands propped up his face. He tried to breathe normally when his chest felt tight. He couldn’t be like this. He couldn’t show his true feelings openly in front of Osamu. His brother was more sensitive than him, so he didn’t want Osamu to clearly catch his feelings.
It was what Atsumu hoped for, but in reality, he felt the palms of his hands were wet. And when he moved his hands away from his face, a clear crystal tear fell onto his open palm. At first, it was one, then two, and then three. After that, Atsumu lost count. He clenched his hands tightly and propped up his forehead. He bit down hard on his lips to stop them from trembling. He tried several times to do breathing therapy taught by his athletic trainer to stop himself from gasping. However, it failed.
In his solitude in the quite hallway, Atsumu could only recite in his heart.
God, I can’t handle it if he’s not here.
[*]
It turns out I can’t control my feelings when I realize that there’s only one Miya I can see now — Kita Shinsuke
Hyōgo, autumn in late October 2019
The table in front of him seemed more intriguing than the people passing by in black attire. Some held back tears, while others wept as they approached the altar. Some simply sighed heavily while comforting those beside them. Amidst it all, Shinsuke had to contain his emotions, offering a small smile to each person who approached to hand him a white-tied envelope.
Shinsuke didn’t realize that the current situation resembled a reunion he had never anticipated in his life. Earlier, he encountered Ren, Aran, and Michinari who arrived together. They didn’t say much to him, knowing that it wasn’t the time for casual small talk. They simply inquired his well-being before letting out a heavy sigh and handing him three white envelopes. Afterward, each of them took a moment to write down their names in a book.
And then there were Shouyou, Koutarou, and Kiyoomi, accompanied by a few people whom Shinsuke didn’t quite recognize, but he could deduce that they were Atsumu’s teammates. Similar to his three friends, they bowed slightly, offered a brief greeting and a small smile before handing him envelopes, then entered the altar room.
And then there were faces he had once known: several Karasuno alumni, opponents they had faced in preliminary and national matches. Shinsuke wasn’t particularly fond of crowded. He had skipped Inarizaki’s reunion before and this was a gathering he had no desire to attend.
“Kita-san,”
Shinsuke lifted his gaze and his eyes met the yellow-greenish orbs of Suna Rintarou. A former junior and someone who still maintained a close connection with the twins until today. It had been a long time since he last saw this guy.
“Ah, Suna-kun,” Shinsuke accepted the envelope that Rintarou offered and extended a pen to him. “Did you come alone?”
Rintarou nodded. “The Senpai-s invited me, but I was worried about my train schedule being late, so I asked them to go ahead,” Rintarou put down the pen and looked at Shinsuke. “Both of them often talk about how you’ve always been helpful.”
Shinsuke was the first to discover Osamu unconscious in his restaurant. He had intended to deliver a bag of rice—on his day off, Shinsuke did his best to assist his grandmother—that Osamu had ordered. Osamu had mentioned he would come to pick it up. However, time passed and Osamu didn’t show up at his grandmother’s house. Taking the initiative, Shinsuke decided to deliver it himself to Osamu’s restaurant, which unfortunately was closed. He tried entering through the oddly unlocked back door and found Osamu in the kitchen, a sight Shinsuke didn’t want to remember.
Since then, Shinsuke took the initiative to help. When Atsumu couldn’t accompany him due to his schedule or when their parents, who happened to work out of town, couldn’t be with him every day, Shinsuke offered his assistance. Fortunately, his apartment wasn’t far from the hospital, so Shinsuke could come after work. Even though Osamu asked him not to come every day, knowing how busy Shinsuke was as a tax officer, but this was the only thing Shinsuke could do.
Shinsuke gave a small smile. “I didn’t help that much.”
Rintarou didn’t answer immediately. He looked at Shinsuke for a moment. “One day, Osamu told me that he was lucky he didn’t leave Hyōgo,” Shinsuke fell silent and Rintarou patted his arm gently. “Your help means a lot to Osamu, Kita-san.”
Shinsuke held back the bitter lump that suddenly appeared in his throat, so he coughed softly, trying to dismiss the small thing that was actually just his imagination. “I should’ve said something to him, shouldn’t I?”
“He knew it, Kita-san,” Rintarou pulled his hand from Shinsuke’s arm. “I’ll go first.”
Shinsuke nodded before his eyes followed Rintarou into the altar. Suddenly, his arm was patted and when he turned, he found one of the twins’ cousins looking at him with a smile.
“Kita-san, go ahead. I’ll take over now,” she said.
Shinsuke nodded and thanked her before moving into the altar room. Chairs were arranged facing a beautiful white coffin that was almost full. Some people gathered beside the coffin, gazing at the face lying there, their hands wiping away tears that were on the verge of falling. On the other side of the coffin, Atsumu and his parents stood. Their mother was still crying and their father was busy wiping away his wife’s shoulders. As for Atsumu … Shinsuke felt his chest tighten as he observed Atsumu’s expression.
Miya Atsumu stood silently, his expression blank as he gazed at the coffin, specifically at the peaceful and serene face lying within. Then, that emotionless face would immediately transform when people offered their greetings and words. His smile was faint and Shinsuke knew that Atsumu was making a concerted effort to muster that smile on his face.
People came one after another. Shinsuke remained in his seat, the rearmost bench, observing everything with a myriad of emotions in his chest. Shinsuke could see Hinata Shouyou crying as he placed a flower into the coffin, although he immediately wiped his face when tears fell. Shinsuke also witnessed Bokuto Koutarou saying something to Osamu before his flower joined others. Then, Sakusa Kiyoomi placed a flower before bowing towards Osamu. The three of them walked towards Atsumu, who welcomed them with a smile. Shouyou hugged Atsumu tightly and Shinsuke could see Atsumu’s lip moving, as if offering comforting words to the crying Shouyou. After Shouyou stepped back, it was time for Koutarou and Kiyoomi to take turns giving Atsumu a hug. Shinsuke noticed Atsumu nodding several times, responding to every word from his friends. Even the young Miya managed a faint laugh as he wiped away tears from Shouyou’s face. That laughter felt like a stab to Shinsuke’s chest.
Then, the altar began to grow emptier. In that moment, Shinsuke’s gaze met with Atsumu’s across the room. Atsumu smiled at him and Shinsuke felt that it was his turn. He rose from his seat, walked towards the table that held an array of beautiful flowers, picked one, and stood beside the coffin.
It felt like just yesterday that Shinsuke saw this face for the first time. When he was in his second year of high school, he could only distinguish them by their different hair colours. As he got to know them better, the gaze in their eyes began to feel different to him. Atsumu, always full of enthusiasm and Osamu, who often followed his brother’s lead. Despite being twins, Shinsuke doesn’t quite remember scolding Osamu often, as Osamu was generally calmer than Atsumu whose voice Shinsuke could always hear even before he stepped into the gymnasium. Until finally, only Osamu’s presence and voice remained, as Atsumu chose to pursue his volleyball career in Osaka while Osamu stayed in Hyōgo, attended college, and became Shinsuke’s junior again, engaging in a small onigiri business for fellow students on campus.
This face was the one he had seen the most, aside from his family. Shinsuke used to buy onigiri from Osamu until on the point he didn’t need to contact him anymore; a box of onigiri with various flavours always be in his locker every morning. When he graduated and Osamu followed the next year, Shinsuke became Osamu’s first customer at his new restaurant. Its proximity to his office and apartment, provided a reason for them to continue meeting. Now, reality revealed to Shinsuke that he would never see Osamu again.
“I wanted to attend the opening of your restaurant in Osaka,” Shinsuke began. He gazed at Osamu’s peaceful face. “I know you’ve been working so hard for the opening in there.”
There were days at the hospital when Osamu talked about his desire to open a branch in Osaka. On one particular day, Osamu asked Shinsuke not to tell anyone the reason why he chose Osaka. However, it made Shinsuke smile and chuckle until Osamu gave him a strange look. How sweet his reason was—he wanted Miya Atsumu to be able to enjoy his cooking every day. Even when Atsumu happened to visit while Shinsuke was in the restaurant, he would observe Osamu complaining and Atsumu whining about being hungry. Then, as Atsumu focused on his food, Shinsuke could see Osamu gazing at his brother for a moment with faint smile.
“I’m not good with words, you know it,” Shinsuke took a slow breath. “But I’m grateful for the day I got to know you and could talk about anything with you. At the restaurant,” Shinsuke stepped forward, placing the flower on the pile of flowers that almost filled the coffin. He gazed at Osamu for a moment, as if trying to etch his face into his memory. “At least there’s no more pain now, is there?”
Shinsuke bit his lips as he felt his emotions welling up. About Osamu unconsciously complaining of pain, even though he was adamant about not showing any signs of pain in front of anyone. About Osamu giving an apologetic smile when he asked Shinsuke for help to stand up, as he felt his legs weren’t strong enough to support him. Or about Osamu saying something to him when Atsumu went outside to answer a phone call: ‘Kita-san, thank you. Please … check in on Atsumu sometimes, will you?’
Shinsuke stepped back. He took a long breath before bowing deeply to Osamu. After he raised his head, there won’t be any Miya Osamu in the restaurant. There won’t be Onigiri which flavours he knows the best. After this, only one Miya left to be seen for him.
After steadying his heart, Shinsuke straightened his body and walked towards Atsumu. They stood side by side, waiting for a few more people who came after Shinsuke.
“Thank you.”
Shinsuke looked up when he heard a faint whisper. He saw Atsumu lowering his head towards him, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “For what?”
“Because you’ve become the most meaningful person to Samu after his family.”
Shinsuke didn’t feel worthy of receiving it, but he nodded, although afterward shook his head slowly. “That’s all I can offer.”
“However, it’s something valuable to him, Kita-san,” Atsumu replied. “There’re times when he only says that to me.”
Again, Shinsuke felt his throat tightening, so he nodded in a hurry. After the last person had finished giving their greeting to Osamu, a funeral officer asked the nuclear family to bid their final farewells before the coffin was closed. At that moment, their mother cried loudly, almost unable to stand upright and needing Atsumu’s support. Their father was the first to speak. Shinsuke could see the shoulders of the middle-aged man shaking violently, especially when he kissed his son’s forehead. Then, it was their mother’s turn, crying and calling Osamu’s name, kissing her son’s face tenderly. When it was Atsumu’s turn, Shinsuke held his breath.
Atsumu took Osamu’s hand, gripping his brother’s hand while his other hand stroked Osamu’s head gently. He didn’t say anything, just gazing silently at Osamu’s face. When he kissed the back of Osamu’s hand, Shinsuke could see Atsumu’s shoulders trembling. He looked up several times, trying to hold back his tears to prevent them from touching Osamu’s face. When he felt calmer—Shinsuke could see how hard it was for Atsumu to control his breathing—the young Miya lowered his head, kissing Osamu’s forehead for a moment. As his tears threatened to fall, Atsumu quickly looked up, wiped his cheeks, and placed Osamu’s hand back, stacking it with his other hand. Atsumu stepped back, joining his parents. The funeral officer ensured there was nothing more they wanted to convey. When the three of them nodded, the coffin was closed.
[*]
The sky was nearly dark as Kita Shinsuke looked out the window from the room that had just been turn into a funeral chapel. He was helping the funeral officers, although it wasn’t necessary for him to do so. The chairs were being moved, leaving the altar that still adorned with flowers and Miya Osamu’s photo.
Earlier, Miya Atsumu had asked Shinsuke to accompany him to the crematorium, but Shinsuke refused. He felt that it was a private space for the nuclear family, so he insisted on waiting here. Although Atsumu asked him to sit quietly, Shinsuke couldn’t resist helping the funeral officers.
When Shinsuke was about to fold and lift the chairs, Atsumu entered through the door. His black suit had been removed and hung over his arm. Shinsuke placed back the chairs he had lifted and walked towards Atsumu. The young man looked at him and when Shinsuke was within reach, Atsumu hugged him.
Shinsuke fell silent as Atsumu embraced him, resting his forehead on Shinsuke’s shoulder. Atsumu didn’t say anthing, but from the heavy sigh, Shinsuke understood. He hugged back, patting Atsumu’s back tenderly.
“Why did you come back here?” Shinsuke asked.
Atsumu didn’t respond to his question for a moment. When Shinsuke wanted to ask again, Atsumu released the hug and curled the corner of his lips.
“I want to take Osamu’s photo.”
Shinsuke followed Atsumu’s steps to the altar. The young man was silent for a moment in front of Osamu’s photo before taking and bringing it to his embrace. Shinsuke thought Atsumu would go home immediately, but that man chose to sit on the front chair. His suit hung over the top of the chair.
Shinsuke walked and took a place beside Atsumu, who was looking down at Osamu’s photo. Shinsuke observed how Atsumu’s thumb caressed the smiling face of Osamu.
“Should I just go with Osamu?”
Shinsuke’s heart almost stopped as he heard a soft mumbling from Atsumu. His eyes widened and his hands forced Atsumu to face him. “Atsumu!”
Atsumu looked at Shinsuke with an expressionless face, although Shinsuke knew there were many emotions flickering in those brown eyes. “Kita-san,” Atsumu gripped the edge of the frame gently. “At that time, I prayed. I asked for Osamu to stay here. Because all this time, he has been here, but,” Atsumu took a long breath and closed his eyes. “He still left.”
Miya Atsumu lifted his gaze again and when Shinsuke’s golden eyes met the clear brown eyes of Atsumu, a tear escaped from Atsumu’s left eyelid. “The world I knew was the one where Osamu existed. And now, I am alone.”
A small sob escaped Atsumu’s lips. His broad shoulders trembled. “Kita-san, I can’t do it without Osamu.”
Shinsuke embraced the trembling figure in front of him. One hand consistently stroked Atsumu’s head, while the other gently caressed his violently shaking back. As Shinsuke did this, the tears that Atsumu had been holding back, the emotions he had been suppressing, finally overflowed. There was no longer an Atsumu smiling like nothing happen in front of his friends and other mourners. There was no longer an Atsumu struggling to hold back his tears in front of Osamu. In Shinsuke’s arm now was just a boy who had lost his brother—his soul. The one who had been with him since the womb, alongside him on the court, celebrating victories together, cooking for him … always on Atsumu’s side every time he called, even if Osamu’s voice sounded reluctant, but rest assured, he smiled every time Atsumu, for the umpteenth time, announced that his team had won.
Now, where else could he find that presence?
[*]
I am fine here, Samu — Miya Atsumu
Hyōgo, autumn in late October 2020
The ambience of the cemetery is quiet. They almost didn’t meet anyone along their steps from the gate to the place of Miya Osamu. Since their feet touched the cemetery yard, no one spoke. Miya Atsumu walked a little ahead of Kita Shinsuke because the young Miya knew Shinsuke might not remember Osamu’s location very well.
Then, Atsumu stopped in front of a neat gravestone free of autumn leaves. Only one or two leaves had fallen directly onto the gravestone. For the past year, Atsumu hadn’t visited Hyōgo frequently. Besides his parents having moved to the same city as him, his busy schedules with various matches and Olympic preparation qualifiers made it challenging for him to come to Osamu. However, He had assigned someone to maintain Osamu’s grave and the day before, Atsumu had informed them of his visit, ensuring that the place was cleaned in advance.
Atsumu crouched down. His unstrapped the backpack from his back and took something out. There was a small plate, some fruit, and onigiri. He also took out a small glass and a bottle of apple juice. Shinsuke, who had been watching Atsumu, joined him this time and helped arrange the offering.
“I made the onigiri myself,” Atsumu started. “Not as tasty as yours, I know,” Atsumu arranged the sliced apple, carving it into a rabbit. “You might shed tears of joy if you see my apple-carving masterpiece. The rabbit shaped looks cooler, right?” Atsumu grabbed a small glass and Shinsuke poured the apple juice into it. “Kita-san still remembers our favorite.”
“You guys drank this every practice break; how could I forget?”
Atsumu chuckled. He placed the small glass alongside a plate of apples and onigiri. Afterward, they stood and bowed deeply before burning the incense. Atsumu completed his ritual first, with Shinsuke following suit.
“Is there anything Kita-san want to say?”
“Sorry?” Shinsuke asked, looking at Atsumu. “Oh, uhm ….” Shinsuke composed his words. “I’m sorry, Osamu. I rarely come here to visit you. You must have heard about my complaints regarding my boss, and now it feels even worst … I’m losing my energy and yeah, my apartment has become just a place to sleep now,” Shinsuke looked at the carving with Miya Osamu’s name. “I don’t know how things are over there, but I know you’re happy. You’re a good person and I don’t think there is any reason for you to feel miserable.”
Shinsuke glanced at Atsumu. “He’s still the same. Suddenly shows up without notice, like your complaints—he appeared out of nowhere when you were about to close your restaurant,” Shinsuke could hear Atsumu snorting. “But, a couple of weeks ago, he sent me a message, saying they qualified for the Olympic,” Shinsuke looked at Astumu, who smiled at him. “Maybe Atsumu’s story will be more complete than mine. You should hear it, okay?”
Shinsuke took a breath. “I’m fine here. Thank you for watching over us from there,” Shinsuke bowed. “I’ll try to visit you again.”
After Shinsuke had said what he needed to, a brief silence settled before he turned to Atsumu. “It seems like there’s a lot on your mind. I’ll be waiting by the gate. Take your time.”
Atsumu looked at Shinsuke for a moment before nodding and smiling. “Thank you, Kita-san.”
After Shinsuke left, Atsumu stared intently at Osamu’s grave—how his name was carved on the gravestone and how the stone remained free of moss. Satisfied with his observation, Atsumu chose to sit on the stepping stone, folding his legs, and gazing at Osamu’s name.
“Next year, I’m heading to the Olympic,” Atsumu began. “The venue is here. There are several people you know who will be playing for the national team. There’s Yaku-san if you remember him from the Nekoma. He’s come all the way from Russia. Then, there’s Tobio-kun. We’ll be taking turns; we’ve already decided on the position. Do you remember Hajime-san? He’s our athletic trainer now. Our opponent is Oikawa Tooru. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. He’s Hajime-san’s old friend and now we’re going to face him. Quite amusing, isn’t it?”
Atsumu took his breath. His index finger traced the carved name of Osamu. “Mom and Dad are doing well. Even though we’re in the same city, I can only go home every weekend if my matches are in Japan. It’s sad, Mom is often alone now because she chose to start a small business at home and Dad is still the same as the usual Dad,” Atsumu offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I rarely come home.”
A leaf fell into Atsumu’s lap. He gazed at it briefly before the wind swept it away. “Today, I’m bothering Kita-san, appearing at his apartment out of the blue and asking him to accompany me here. I thought you’d like to meet with Kita-san too, right?” Atsumu stared at the gravestone. “He helped us a lot back then, didn’t he, Samu?”
A thought crossed Atsumu’s mind, causing him to curve his lips into a wistful smile. “Before coming here, I went through some old albums. Mom asked me to find something and suddenly there was an album from our high school days,” Atsumu chuckled. “It made me miss those time, you know.”
Atsumu’s smile gradually shifted to one of regret. “I apologize. I was upset when you mentioned not wanting to play volleyball again. I haven’t properly apologized to you,” Atsumu looked down at his knees. “At that time, I never thought you would be interested in something other than volleyball. We were always together, and you never showed any sign that you would’ve something else on your mind, except volleyball. Perhaps I wasn’t prepared for you to leave the court, as far as I knew, where I was, there you were.”
Atsumu looked up at the sky. “But, Samu, on that day, when we were quarrelling, you went home early. I was still busy with practice and stopped by Sunarin’s house. When I came back and saw you in the kitchen, I finally understood. You have the ability to find joy in things other than volleyball. When I saw that, I regretted getting angry and not accepting it just because you had different dreams from mine. I never knew you had such a sincere smile when making onigiri,” Atsumu shifted his gaze, looking toward the gravestone. “I’m sorry, Samu. I’ve never been able to properly apologize to you.”
Atsumu folded his arms on the knees and turned it as his temple’s support. “I miss you.”
Atsumu felt his gaze became blurry. “It’s already a year, Samu, but sometimes I still like to call your number when I win. However, there’s no one to pick it up,” Atsumu cleared his throat to remove something that held his throat. “I don’t like being alone, Samu.”
This time, Atsumu straightened his body. He lifted his head to prevent the dam in his eyes from breaking. “But I have to be strong for Mom and Dad. You don’t need to worry; I will take care of them. I will make them happy. And there will be moments when we think of you, there’s only a smile.”
On that afternoon, the autumn breeze felt cool. Its gentle movement carried away a few leaves from the trees, seemingly taking with it the tightness in Atsumu’s chest, until the young Miya carved a relieved smile.
“I am fine here, Osamu. You don’t need to worry.”
[*]
You have to be fine, even though I’m no longer here … promise me, will you? — Miya Osamu
Hyōgo, autumn is almost at the end of October 2019
“Are you serious about going out?”
I stopped buttoning my long coat and glanced at the only other presence in the room. A person with a face identical to mine, except for his yellow hair, which I teased as tacky and it ended with him hitting me. I sighed at his tenth question, one he had been asking since the doctor allowed me to leave.
“You heard what the doctor said yourself, Tsumu,” I answered lazily. I wrapped the scarf Mom had bought around my neck. “Hurry up! The taxi is waiting outside.”
Miya Atsumu muttered because I was certain he didn’t appreciate being bossed around. Nevertheless, some of my belongings were neatly stored in the bag that Atsumu slung over his shoulder. I was about to leave the room when he grabbed my hand, leading me out.
“I can walk on my own, Atsumu.”
“You’re so noisy. Just obey your older brother.”
Honestly, I didn’t like when he claimed himself as the older brother, even though the reality was that he was born just a few minutes before me. With a difference of only three and a half minutes, there really wasn’t any need for the label ‘older brother’, right? But, oh well, I just let it be today.
The taxi I had booked was waiting in the hospital courtyard. We didn’t have many bags, so we placed them with us on the back seat. The car started to move, leaving the hospital courtyard and I couldn’t shake off the feelings of relief that I was leaving this place for a moment.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Samu?”
I turned to look at Atsumu. He rarely displayed a worried expression, even back in our school days, he never hesitated to throw a punch my way. I stifled a snort. “You’ve already asked that eleven times.”
Atsumu frowned at me. “I’m worried, you idiot!”
He rarely uttered those words to me, but honestly, I was happy to hear them. Even though I’d to keep it a secret until end, so he wouldn’t know how much I enjoyed these feelings. “The doctor said my condition is more stable. I’ve to go back to the hospital tomorrow, right? What are you worried about?”
Atsumu crossed his arms. “Yeah, just worried, that’s all. Why do you have to ask?”
“I feel bothered because it doesn’t suit you.”
“Hey!”
The taxi stopped briefly at the intersection because of the traffic light. It didn’t take long, because in the next moment, the taxi continued straight.
“Don’t we have to turn right?”
I looked at Atsumu’s confused face. I flashed a small smile. “Who said I want to go home?”
His brown eyes widened. “Hey, Osamu!” He tapped the taxi driver’s shoulder. “Sir, please make a U-turn!”
“No, Sir. Please keep going.”
Atsumu looked at me in disbelief. “You’re sick, you idiot! Where do you think you’re going?!”
I touched my temple, closing my eyes. “Please sit quietly, Tsumu. My head hurts when you shout.”
His expression changed instantly and he scooted closer to me, checking my entire face. “Are you alright? Should we just go back to the hospital?”
I pushed him away as he checked my face too closely. “I’m alright. Now, please sit quietly until we arrive at our destination.”
I knew that Atsumu wasn’t sincere as he leaned his back against the car seat. However, I appreciated his effort to stay calm, even though I noticed him furrowing his brow a few times as the taxi driver navigated the turns. Eventually, the taxi stopped in front of a school gate and I turned to look at Atsumu, who looked stunned.
“Let’s go. Please bring the bag with you.”
After handing over the exact fare for the taxi, I got out first and waited for Atsumu. He looked more bewildered after his feet touched the road that we had explored for 3 years. I couldn’t suppress my laughter, observing his peculiar expression. Upon hearing my laughter, Atsumu focused his gaze on me.
“Inarizaki?” His disbelieving eyes met mine. “Why?”
“I’ve already obtained permission from the principal and our coach to borrow the gymnasium for a short time,” I moved towards the gate. “Let’s go.”
Without waiting for Atsumu’s response, I stepped through the gate. As I walked towards the gymnasium, the memories of high school flashed before my eyes. The clear image of the white uniform paired with a brown blazer, the sounds of students discussing assignments, planning their activities after school, or practicing the new moves in the club echoed in my ears. Every detail of this school reminded me of how time had passed unnoticed. When the gymnasium building caught my eyes, an inexplicable feeling filled my chest, making it feel tight.
I slid open the gymnasium door and memories of 3 years of high school hit me. I felt like I could see all the members running around the gymnasium, each finding their spot for warm-up. I could envision Kita-san standing on the edge of the court, monitoring our warm-up, and I could even hear Atsumu’s enthusiastic voice counting during the warm up.
“Wow! It’s still exactly the same!”
Atsumu ran into the gymnasium. His eyes scanned every corner as if trying to find any differences since he graduated. “Hey, the podium is new!”
I followed Atsumu into the gymnasium. He had already set down the bag he had been carrying to the edge of the court. “Hey, Tsumu,” Atsumu stopped pointing out every new thing he found and focused on me. “Wanna give me a toss?”
For a brief moment, I could see a gleam of joy in his eyes before his worried expression took over. “You’re still sick.”
I gave him a faint smile as I headed to the ball storeroom. “Please set up the net. I’ll get the ball.”
I thought he would argue with me using various reasons, but I was quite surprised when he ran ahead of me and opened the storeroom. I knew there were many conflicts within Atsumu, but I felt grateful he didn’t mention them now because there’s only one wish of me that I hope he can help fulfill here.
The sight of Atsumu setting up and adjusting the height of the net made me smile. It had been a while since I had seen that, even though I was fully aware that this was my final decision. After finishing all the preparations, Atsumu moved towards me and took a ball. He hit the ball to the floor, creating a sound that used to be so familiar to my ears.
“One last question from me,” Atsumu said before catching the ball and looking at me. “Are you okay?”
I looked at him for a moment and grabbed another ball from the basket. I tossed the ball up before hitting it, making it soar over the net. I turned to him. “I’ve never felt this healthy before.”
Atsumu gave me his smile before rolling up his sleeves. “Let’s play.”
And after that, I felt like I was back in the past. How my eyes caught the ball that Atsumu tossed, the sensation as the ball struck my hand, and how the sound of it meeting the floor echoed in my ears. The past seemed even more complete with Atsumu protesting my spike crossing the court line and I retorted: ‘I haven’t played volleyball in five years, you idiot!’
The past felt even more real when we could still practice the quick-attack, celebrated with Atsumu’s enthusiastic overreaction as he hugged me tightly. He even took the initiative to try a serve targeting a bottle he had bought earlier, placing it directly on the front line. After two failures and on the third attempt, the bottle was firmly hit by the ball, and I had no choice but to applaud his success, which was met with his exuberant celebration.
Exhausted from our game (he even coerced me into a one-on-one basketball match, which, of course, was won by Atsumu), I opted to take a break on the edge of the court with the mineral water and isotonic drink he had purchased. Atsumu still had the energy to play volleyball, incorporating basketball in the midst of his game. Being an athlete, he undoubtedly had a different physical endurance compared to me, who chose jogging as my routine exercise every morning.
Honestly, the idea of visiting Inarizaki never crossed my mind until yesterday when the doctor said I could go home, although I had to return to the hospital tomorrow. However, when I saw Atsumu helping me walk and holding my arm, a desire that hadn’t surfaced in my heart for a long time suddenly emerged.
I wanted to play with him again.
On the court. Just this once.
Calling the coach and the principal was the first thing I did when Atsumu told me he wanted to pick up the food we ordered on the ground floor. Being one of the players who led the team to the national level became one of the reasons why I could easily obtain permission. It’s funny, I rarely have sentimental feelings like this, even when I decided not to be by Atsumu’s side—accompanying him on the court. But, just this once, I let that feeling take over.
Atsumu, who was still running on the court, caught my attention. For the last five years, honestly, I rarely met him, especially when his crazy schedules filled his time throughout the year. I didn’t think I needed to tell him about this because I knew he would become big-headed, but just this once, I wanted to admit that I felt grateful when I could see his figure at the entrance of the restaurant, complaining about how hungry he was after a long journey from his match location, and seeing how enthusiastically he ate my cooking.
Honestly, I hated my current position because it brought back many regrets. One thing I regretted the most was that we couldn’t sit together and discuss my future plan. I regretted responding to his disagreement with a raised voice. I regretted turning my back on him for over a week. I hadn’t properly apologized to him. Our pride, how high it was, wasn’t it?
Suddenly, Atsumu run towards me. He sat in front of me, straightening his legs until I was in the between of his long legs. His smile was wide. “Are you tired? Wanna go home now?”
That smile … how if one day, I couldn’t see it again?
Suddenly, a rush of emotion filled my chest until I sensed something obstructing my view, causing Atsumu’s silhouette to blur in my eyes. A fear of loneliness. My concern for him: What if Atsumu is left alone? What if there comes a day when he opens his eyes and can’t find me anymore? What if no one answer his calls when he joyfully announces his victories?
What if one day I disappear from his side?
Will he be alright?
“Samu,” a worried voice took me back to my consciousness. I blinked my eyes when I saw him. “Are you alright?”
Pushing away the bitterness in my chest, I forced a smile. “Are you done playing? Was it fun?”
“I’m reminiscing about the past,” Atsumu chuckled. “And you?”
“Uhm,” I pretended thinking hard before shrugging my shoulders and smiling. “Let’s play again one day.”
Atsumu nodded happily. “I’ll teach you how to serve again because your serve kinda sucks.”
I squinted my eyes before chuckling received his statement. Haven’t played for five years and I did feel my attack wasn’t that great. “Alright, Mr. Athlete.”
Atsumu flicked my forehead playfully because I knew he didn’t like that nickname if I was the one who said that. I looked at how he drank his drink. “Ne, Tsumu.”
“Yes?”
If one day I were to leave from your side, you would be alright, wouldn’t you?
“Don’t secretly eat the restricted foods your trainer gave you.”
Atsumu began to complain. “I’m not like that anymore! I eat pretty clean!”
I gave him a smile even though my eyes were blurry. “Keep healthy.”
“I am the healthiest on my team, you know?”
Keep smiling like this, even if I’m not here anymore.
“Don’t cry.”
“When did I cry?!”
Miya Atsumu, I truly love you.
“Tsumu, thank you.”
“For what?”
Because you’ve been with me all this time. Because you’re my twin. Because you’re my older brother.
“For being my ugly twin.”
“You want to pick a fight?”
Hey, Atsumu. If there was a day when you could only find my name in a carving, if there was a time when I couldn’t respond to your stories, if there was a moment when I couldn’t cook the food you desired, when that time came and even in the days that followed, please promise me one thing.
That you would always, always be okay.
[Fin]