𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚

Every action, every thought it’s all tied together, an inevitable whirlpool of past actions sweeping you into its abyss until nothing but the memories of those you’ve wronged barrage your mind. Fate’s persistence is exhausting, stray from its path and you will be strenuously dragged along its predestined alignment. You quickly found that life with a fate you could not change was hell on earth.

Some may think hell is a fiery domain filled with eternal suffering and a distortion of the life you once knew, but they are mistaken. No, hell, is much tamer. Hell is the absence of love, the regret of every minuscule movement you’ve ever made, the desire to see yourself as something more than just a lump of flesh that breathes— hell is your life.

Despite being one of the most powerful and zealous people in Japan, this wasn’t the life you had desired to live. Death and adversity chased you everywhere even in the moments where you thought it was escapable, it wasn’t. It clung to you in moments of desperation, silently whispering in your ear with its bitter, callous voice. Perhaps, fate decided to completely disregard your sentiments and aspirations, concluding that ultimately your purpose for existing was to weed out the people you deemed unworthy of life, essentially acting as a mortal god.

Playing god sounds a lot better in theory: being able to instill your absolute rule upon those below you and be adored by an abundance of followers. Instead, it includes being haunted by those who’ve perished at your hands, their souls clawing at your sense of being until you break down, and being betrayed by those who swore absolute piety to your presence. It’s subtle and you don’t notice it’s too late, but judging the worthiness of life has disastrous side effects. There is a reason mortals fear gods. What they don’t tell you about gods is how lonely they are, the only company they keep being themselves.

Of course, it wasn’t always this way. You had a glimmer of ambition and happiness growing up, wanting to open a music studio, spending your days singing and playing instruments. Sharing the joy of singing and music’s breath of life that flowed within every note. What a childish fantasy. It’s almost comical looking back on how naive you once were. You simply were never destined to be what you’ve dreamed of, and fate just so happened to let you know at a very young age by putting you in your place. Years of youth are usually a period of nostalgia, remembering the years that formulated you into your current self. However, the strings of fate seemed to have bigger plans for you, more cynical ones.

Maybe if you had just tried to escape the madness just a little more you wouldn’t be here in some decrepit, neglected bar that reeked of desperation; crowded with people who had certainly committed multiple atrocities against humanity. Only a single dim, blurred light was provided, darkness encapsulating the whole inside of the building. You tapped your glass lightly, the ring of the clinks offering some consolation to the silence emitted from the man that sat in front of you. There was nothing to say while having to talk about everything. His aging face did not offer any emotion, his familiar features laid flat displaying his prevailing stoicism.

His mouth became slightly ajar, emitting words that were just barely audible. Perhaps he thought if the words he spoke weren’t detectable, they’d lose their legitimacy. “I’m sure you’ve already been informed, but one of our top executives was murdered today.” His countenance had no expression, yet the staleness was frightening enough. “He was found in an alley where his body was found stabbed multiple times, it appears as if the culprits showed him no mercy.”

His glare fell on your face, his eyes piercing through you, analyzing every minuscule movement. “As the leader of the assassination unit, I expect that you and your team will dispose of the person responsible.” Yuuiji was always one of his favorites, it’s to be expected that he’d want to inflict revenge.

Your hand again continued to tap the glass lightly, your nerves eating away at your sensibility. “Sir, I will make sure that the person and gang at fault will endure the wrath of Miyazaki-kai,” you assured him. “They will be knocked so far down that they won’t even have another opportunity to wrong us.” Your boss offered a grin in response, a forced one, but a grin at that. Despite your composed appearance, your hand began to slightly shake the glass, you prayed that he wouldn’t take note of your anxiety. The ability to appear confident is quite easy to master, in fact, you don’t even have to have an ounce of self-worth. As long as you speak as if every word that leaves your mouth is the absolute truth, no one will ever question it.

“I would expect nothing less of our best assassin,” He smiled, but the ends of his mouth quickly fell. “However, after the last incident a few months ago where your misjudgment and mistake cost the lives of half of your unit, I think I should leave this blessing solely to you. Just keep in mind, if you mess up there won’t be another opportunity to prove your worth. You’re lucky enough that I have the grace to overlook your last mishap.” Your hand tapped the glass at an increasingly faster tempo, your insides were dropping as you tried your best to not let your face fall. The boss’ gaze was illuminated in a new light now that his cynical plan was revealed. What a sick man, it’s almost like he got some sort of amusement from your suffering.

His never-ending words continued to prick at your skin, slowly taunting you. “If it wasn’t for your renowned status and skills, you’d be long gone by now. Unfortunately, as much as I’d like to, you’re not replaceable, but the Miyazaki family doesn’t exactly house klutzes, now do we?” His rough, cold hands grabbed your face forcing your gaze to be met with his. You raised your hand to his, bitterly pulling it off.

You wore a dull expression, not letting him bask in the satisfaction of seeing your grief. “I will be honored to avenge Yuuji.” You lifted the drink to your mouth not taking your gaze off of the man that sat before you. You placed the glass down. “He was the closest thing to family I'll ever have in life.” Outwardly, you sat there calmly having a casual business discussion. Inwardly, you shook in a panic knowing that, regardless of whether the mission would be carried out or not, you were surely going to end up the same as Yuuji.

Your boss chuckled lightly. “Very well, Y/N, I do not doubt that you will be the one to put an end to Sano Manjiro.” You nodded your head. What more was there to live for anyway? If you were going to die, at least die fighting rather than slowly aging away in an already lifeless state. “If you complete your task, I’m positive you will be first in line as my successor,” he continued to ramble. “Of course, you will never match Yuuji, but I suppose you’ll suffice. Even growing up, you always needed a little push to be successful, but you have to fix that habit of yours, or else you can never achieve greatness on your own. Even though you’re a woman and weaker than—”

“Pardon the interruption, but I must leave,” you interjected, your ears begging to end his everlasting torment. “I had promised to train with some members at one of our locations.” You stood up gathering your things, wanting to do nothing more than storm out of the dank, airless bar and scream. Your boss reached his arm out, making you flinch slightly at the suddenness of the action. His arm stayed there momentarily as you confusingly hesitated, not daring to turn around.

His voice called out. “No hug for your father?” Disgusting, sick bastard. You paused for a second, aware of his taunting grin present behind you. Biologically speaking, he was your father, however, in every other sense, he was nothing but a stranger. A stranger who had raised you with no other intention than making you a weapon that can be used solely for his advantage. You knew it and he knew it. Unfortunately, not even DNA can create bonds. You didn’t look back at him and continued to walk out of the stale bar, feeling his lingering glare follow you.

Relief enveloped your body, as you walked into the night. To say you had daddy issues would be a severe understatement. Fate had not been an amiable figure to you even at an early age, it seemed to enjoy subjecting you to hardships. At the age of four, your mom passed away, leaving you to be raised by your older brothers and father. It was like you never amounted to anything in his presence, it was almost as if there was always something fatally wrong with yourself, whether it be how you fought or did casual everyday chores. All you ever wanted was to be perceived as worthy, something that, even now, was seemingly impossible. But then again, perhaps this was destiny granting you a chance to rise from the ashes of misery like a glorious phoenix enchanting the world around it.

The street lights gleamed, having an eerie feeling to them. The shadows whispered as you walked past them, the evil whirling in the darkness that lingered in every corner. The cars ran up the busy Tokyo streets, lights gliding through the night as you were enveloped in the sea of people. Amid the city madness, you were nothing more than a grain of sand, disguised in a desert. There was warmth in the normality of just walking alone, not out somewhere fighting for your life or taking someone else’s. At that moment, you were just you, nothing more, nothing less. It’s times like these where there is comfort in being lost. Unfortunately, comfort is nothing more than a little high that can fall almost instantaneously.

You stopped in front of the abandoned arcade, the poorly lit neon sign flickering in your face greeted you. The dull, lifeless beige building stood in front of you, a giant fissure running straight down the middle towards the door. As you entered the building, the familiar scent of cigarettes, alcohol, and sweat encompassed you. The scene was quite arbitrary, in one corner there was a group of teenage boys gawking at your entrance enchanted by the scene of a mere woman, another with a group of men in their twenties playing poker betting on hookers, and, lastly, a lonely figure waiting in the shadows by the backroom.

You walked towards the man in the back, knowing that at the moment he probably was the only person who could offer some consolidation. The excruciatingly dim disco lights placed at the front of the room seemed to avoid where he stood, he leaned against the wall, cigarette in hand. His tall, lanky figure looked down at you. No words were said, there didn’t need to be, your eyes spoke more than your mouth ever could. You could feel it all start to fall apart, the losing control of your breathing, your heart hammering in your ears, and the hyper focused sensation picking up on every single thing that surrounded you.

It was unbearable, letting someone see you fall apart and cry, misery is not to be shared. He silently watched, bewildered by your hysteria. You could feel it crawl through you, slithering up your chest into your shoulder and arms. The pain, the fear, the frustration- it all threw your fist into the wall landing right next to his shoulder. Your legs gave out next, relying solely on the support of the wall as you dug your face into his chest. Normally, if this had occurred, you’d threaten to kill any witness if they dared to speak, but now while losing the last thing that gave you hope nothing mattered. You were going to die anyway, there was nothing left.

“Yuuji was murdered this morning,” you croaked into his now-soaked shirt.

You felt his chest rise and fall, the sound of his breath offering a reminder of life. “I know,” his hand fell to your back, something so simple, yet it said so much. He didn’t say sorry, he didn’t need to, at that moment he just needed to listen.

“Sano Manjiro killed him,” you shrieked, “and I’m going to kill him, I’m going to take exactly what he took from me until he has nothing left so he can know what it feels like. Those Bonten bastards will regret killing him so fucking mercilessly!” Your voice started to raise, your face drowning in emotion. “I’m going to infiltrate them— and get them to trust me— and I’m even going to get them to like me. Only for me to destroy everything they’ve worked for even if it kills me. I’d rather die than live a life where I’m suffocating in despair.” You gasped for air, your breathing still uneasy from crying. You stepped back and looked at him.

“There really is nothing more that matters, I’ve only lasted this long because of him.” Your throat burned as the magnitude of the weight you carried finally began to settle in. “He promised me, we’d both escape one day and leave all of this fucking shit behind. He can’t be gone— Megumi, is it going to be okay?”

It wasn’t a question, rather a request, he could tell by the way your voice slightly hesitated. “How about we take your rage to the back with the punching bag and we’ll talk about it some more?”

He didn’t say it was going to be okay.

It burns. The monotonous tone of your fist colliding with the punching bag rang through the room. Your hands now bruised and bloodied painted the floor, as the blood occasionally trickled down, creating an array of blood and tears. With each punch the pain was buried deeper and deeper, bestowing a mound of agony upon you. The physical strain alleviated the numbness that resided inside, serving as a reminder that despite everything that happened, you were still alive for some cruel reason.

Despite your pleas to fate for an end to your already tragic tale, it decided to spite you instead— stealing the last possession of happiness you’ve ever known. What a pitiful sight you were, not even your sobbing pleas to the gods could be answered.

Yet, in the face of torment, you still stood, fighting with every last punch you could draw out of your dwindling body. The pain could be ignored, hell, even the grief that pulled on your chest wasn’t enough to bring your demise. No, as much as you wanted an ending, you couldn’t bear to leave without belligerence, it wouldn’t befitting of an assassin. You were willing to push your mind and body to the limits knowing that it’d be able to provide a fitting ending, one that your brother could honor.

The bag swayed, silently jeering. You envisioned Yuuji as the red covering your hands seemed to deepen, drenching your entire arm. How was he in his final moment? You can’t even imagine it, being killed so mercilessly by a group of people with their fists just for the thrill of taking down an enemy. The thrill of the hunt evoked a sort of primal instinct in man, showing that deep down we aren’t that far away from animals. We give ourselves too much credit, in reality, when provoked humans can be pushed to do truly despicable things. Why is it that we as humans feel the need to fight each other in such grotesque means?

Fighting is a whole other thing, a topic that you unfortunately are all too familiar with. The rhythm of the motions that are programmed within you, a dance with the devil pleading for victory placing your sense of being on the line. Despite what some may say, no one enjoys fighting, we all do it for our separate reasons but it’s guaranteed that it isn’t for enjoyment. Some do it to make up for their lack of identity, others to simply be able to feel something again. As for you, it was a multitude of things: a desire for acceptance, a following of orders, and revenge.

Revenge is single-handedly the strongest weapon man can wield. When mixed with determination and heated anger, it becomes explosive, destroying anything that comes in contact with its path, creating mass collateral. Its hunger can’t be satisfied until it finally feasts on its desired conquest. But, even after completing its task, revenge leaves a deep hole settled in you that doesn’t escape, a side effect from its conquest and all its damage. In the end, revenge destroys everything, even its source.

“I leave you for ten minutes to grab us some drinks and your hands are already raw.” You landed one last punch, looking at Megumi. He stood slouched holding two beers. It appeared as if he had been standing there for a few minutes, trying to fathom just how far gone you were. He walked up to you, a melancholic expression painted across his face, one that could not easily be interpreted, concealing layers of thoughts that ran inside. A smile was drawn on his face ever so forcefully, trying to offer any sense of comfort. You stared at him blankly. Denial, isolation, and anger all tore you apart, yet you made sure to not showcase any evidence.

He held out the beer, offering an olive branch. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so emotional before, it’s kind of a relief knowing that somewhere in there you feel things too.” He chuckled softly, trying to ease the underlying tension that plagued the air.

You didn’t respond, instead, you took the bottle and chugged it all at once. It brought about a temporary comfort, forgetting all of your troubles and regrets even if it's just for a few hours. With no memories, there are no ties to past burdens and trauma, there is nothing but the present. The deep-rooted desire to just forget everything in your life and just start over was almost excruciating. Ignorance is bliss, after all.

“I know that he was your last living brother.” Megumi broke the silence, saying the one thing that weighed both your minds. You looked up at him, sobering up immediately. There it was again, that pang and the hammering inside, an internal storm of grief with torrential rains. You could feel it fall apart all over again, reliving the cycle of fear, anger, and sadness.

He enveloped you in a hug, his cold to the touch body offering warmth and relief. “It’s okay to be human, you don’t always have to be a stone-cold assassin.”

He was wrong. You physically couldn’t allow yourself to be caught up in such emotional, worldly matters. Fate has tied you to an unbreakable rope of death. But despite all that, you cried some more. It was selfish, but there was nothing more relieving than allowing all of your stress and troubles to be set free of the cage you locked them in. You breathed out, a whisper so soft you weren’t sure Megumi could hear it, “I have to kill them.”

“We’ll do everything in our power to make sure—”

He was quickly interrupted. “No, you don’t understand!” Your voice cracked slightly. “I want them to pay but—” You hid your face, not knowing if you were willing to say the truth you had kept buried deep down. “I need to kill him, or he’ll kill me. I have to infiltrate Bonten and kill Sano, alone.”

“Sano is out for your head?”

“No, my father ordered me too. He gave me an ultimatum. Either I kill Sano and help bring down Bonten or he’ll kill me.”

“Y/N—”

“No!” You screamed. “You don’t understand, I’ve already messed up in the past. The only reason why I left unscathed was because Yuuji persuaded Father. I’ve already escaped death once, I don’t think I’ll be lucky enough to do it twice.”

Your breath hitched. “I’ve already made up my mind. I'm going through with it.”

“Y/N, that’s a suicide mission,” Megumi trembled. You nodded your head, not looking at his face, for you knew that staring into his big, fear-filled eyes would only break you further. The hum of silence rang through the room, the dreariness playing a melancholic melody. “I’m sure the boss was just saying that in the spur of emotions, why don’t we go try and explain that this is too dangerous for a single man mission.”

“Megumi you know I can’t—”

“You aren’t seriously going along with this right? They’ll take one look at you and kill you without hesitation, you’ll end up just like Yuuji if not worse, you know how they treat women. No, I'm not just going to stand back and watch you let yourself die.F”

“What if I’ve already given up?” You asked. You could see the reflection in the pavement below you, a shell of a girl who didn’t see what more life could offer her. You were never more than a tool for your father’s disposal, humanity was never an option. “What am I going to do now that he’s gone? He’s the only reason why I’ve survived so long in this horrid gang. If I’m going to die regardless of the choice I make, I want to die knowing that I did everything in my power to avenge him. He had protected me all these years, it’s only fair that I retrieve the favor.”

There is nothing more dangerous than opposing a fighter that has already lost everything, the only thing driving them being their pure essence and determination. The willingness to so easily give up your life is frightening, a power that many would tremble in its shadow, many not realizing that the battle had been already decided before it even began. Already broken things were easier to lose.

You prepared yourself to hear Megumi’s pleas to not allow yourself to go on such a mission, but instead, you were met with a hand placed on your back. Surprised, you looked up at your friend, his green eyes glazed, face trembling. “When did you start sounding so much like him?” His tears continued to rain, puddling on the pavement. “Just please, Y/N, promise me you’ll try your best to survive. We’ve already lost Yuuji and I—”

After sitting down for about ten minutes, Atsumu redirected his attention to the now dimming lights. The once lit up auditorium was now only being illuminated from the light appearing on the stage. There was almost an entrancing aura in the room, everyone gathered in the same room for the sole purpose of watching people showcase their musical talent. Though completely different activities, he couldn't help but be reminded of the similar feeling when watching a volleyball match.

Although Suna had mentioned to him many times that he and you had two very distinct and different personalities, he couldn't help but disagree. From the little he'd observed, you both had strong passions that you had dedicated your whole lives to. Even though you two may approach situations differently. You both have a mutual understanding of the thrill that comes with pushing yourself to the limit for something.

He had never really chosen to get to know another person on a deeper level. Of course, there was Osamu, but that didn't really count since that was his brother. Additionally, his friendship with Suna was only a byproduct of Osamu's friendship with him. Atsumu constantly had girls throwing themselves at him, and even though he enjoyed basking in their attention, he knew that they were only in love with the idea of him.

Outside of volleyball and his family, he never got the chance to have a close relationship with someone, but that was something he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of achieving his dreams. Not to mention, he always had the lingering fear that, in the end, people only hung out with him to get close to Osamu. He really hoped that you were an exception to that case.

The competition had to at least been going on for an hour now, Atsumu thought to himself. When he imagined attending a piano competition, he envisioned a relaxing show that he could attend for free, but that wasn't the case. Instead, he spent his time watching musicians attempt to play grand, complex pieces to perfection, but at most they only achieved mediocre performances. Just how long was it going to take for you to come on stage?

"Now presenting contestant 105, l/n y/n. Playing piano concerto number one in E minor, opus eleven: two. Romance larghetto."

His eyes were directed to your figure that now walked onto the stage. Your head held high, your footing confident. Atsumu grinned, noticing that you were sporting that perfect smile of yours. He watched as you took a deep breath while fixing your stool.

Before your hands touched the keys, he observed how, for a quick second, your eyes changed from confident to anxious when studying the crowd. Your eyes were glued in the same spot briefly, however they were quickly averted back to the instrument. Could it be that large crowds made you anxious? No, it couldn't be, you seemed way too confident walking out on stage. He wondered just what made you apprehensive.

He continued to watch you intently.

Your fingers graced the keys. They quickly found their tempo and danced to the rhythm. You didn't miss a single beat nor note as you played. Everything was played to perfection, just as it always was.

Your smile disappeared, only to be replaced with a face of precision and focus. Your hands produced a soft melody, making the sound glide into his ears. No previous performer enchanted the audience like you did. The notes danced and swayed in the air.

Your song had so much power to it. It was as if a mystical spell was casted in the room the minute that you started to play. Atsumu's eyes widened as he watched you get lost in the song. There was absolutely no hesitation as you played. Your body was completely in tune with the instrument.

Although you weren't saying anything, you were telling a story to everyone in the room, captivating them. It was all perfect. Your rhythm, notes, tempo, and tone- it was exactly as written on paper. You quite literally were playing the piece perfectly. However, the story you were telling with your music, wasn't quite your own, but rather the composer.

You were guaranteed a first place win since you were playing a technical piece perfectly, but it lacked the emotion. You played it exactly as the composer intended, nothing more, nothing less.

Atsumu recognized the seemingly stoic look on your face. It wasn't something he could decipher easily at first, but now hearing you play, he could understand it. You were so obsessed, so intent with playing it perfectly, something he often found himself partaking in when in an important match. You were perfect, but at what cost?

There was no denying that you were extremely talented, certainly more talented than himself, he thought. But, he could only imagine how much more captivating you could be when expressing your own emotions with your talent.

As your song neared its end, the whole room stood up in applause. You stood up, knowing you played it perfectly, but you still felt empty. You remember a time where you used to love savoring the gratification from an overwhelmed audience. Now, however, you stood in front of everyone clapping for your perfect performance, and you couldn't feel less accomplished. Perhaps you were being too hard on yourself. When did playing piano turn into a chore?

You glanced to the top of the audience, the same place you were looking before the performance, and locked eyes with your dad. The same unreadable expression was present on his face. He shook his head and walked out the exit door. Your chest grew heavy, trying its best to hold in your tears in front of the audience.

You bowed in front of the audience, trying your best to conceal the emotions running rampant in you. You swiftly paced yourself offstage, running past your mentor who was there for support and into the backstage bathroom.

Your back leaned on the heavy door, all of your bottled feelings washing out. You looked at your face in the mirror, placing two hands over your heated cheeks. Your eyes started to sting, but you still stared into the reflection. Anger, disappointment, humiliation, vulnerability, and most of all, loneliness. You let it all spill out at that moment.

There was so much more you wanted to do with your music, but at that moment no amount of praise could convince you that it was worth it. All in life you ever wanted to do was make your dad proud, show him that you are worthy enough to be your mother's daughter. Was anything you did ever going to be good enough for him?

"y/n, it's Haruka-sensei." A voice from the door knocked. "I thought you played the piece perfectly, I'll be in the lobby, so come out when you're ready."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Your hands made their way to your face again, this time cleaning up the tears and smudged mascara. Looking up one last time, you smiled into the mirror. Over the years, you convinced yourself that if you faked being happy enough, eventually you will be. It's not like anyone could tell the difference from it anyways.

You opened the door slowly, trying to gain your composure again. You bumped into many kids roaming the halls backstage looking anxious to perform. The maze of people was something you were now used to navigating.

The lobby was empty with the exception of your sensei and dad, everyone else still in the auditorium watching the final stretch of the performances. Haruka-sensei and your dad didn't get along for the most part, which is why you weren't surprised when you saw them standing in completely opposite areas of the room.

Your dad was first to approach you. "What did you think that was?" His voice was laced with alcohol. Your gaze met his. His eyes filled with resentful judgement. "You think you can get away playing like shit and make your way to the top?"

Droplets of tears fell to the ground once more. "I asked you a question!"

You looked to the ground. "No, I know I'll never be good enough." You sniffed harshly, still trying to maintain your composure, but failing. You hated crying in front of your dad. It was arguably the worst feeling in the world, like you were being isolated in a dark void with nothing but disappointment.

He watched you cry. You could feel his gaze burning into the top of your head, which still faced the ground in fear. All of a sudden, you felt a harsh grip on your wrist that was sure to leave a bruise.

"And don't you ever forget that," He spat. "I bet your mother is even more repulsed by you than I am. It's a joke that you think you'll ever be anything great." He shook your arm firmly, forcing you to see the aggravation displayed on his expression.

"That's enough," Haruka yelled, shoving your dad to the side. She might've been a small lady, but she sure did know how to stand her ground. "I can't stand hearing you spread such bullshit hatred to your own daughter. You make me sick. Why don't you go and get yourself even more drunk. Maybe you'll wake up and find yourself passed out on a park bench."

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. He left the building, leaving just you and Haruka.

"Listen, y/n, I think you played beautifully. Your technique was perfect, and with just a few tweaks here and there, I'm sure you'll be more than ready to take the top spot at nationals." She praised. She gave you a genuine smile and pulled you into a hug.

Feeling overwhelmed, you started to cry for the third time that hour. "Shh- don't worry about your dad, he's just a loser-asshole that projects all his issues onto you." You felt comforted by her embrace. Although she'd only known you for about a month now, Haruka had quickly become one of your favorite piano mentors. She had the loving presence and embrace of a mother, something that was so foreign to you at first.

After your heavy tears and emotions subsided, you re-entered the backstage hallways. You sat in the corner of the hallway, directing your attention to a boy- who couldn't have been any older than twelve. He sat next to his mom, holding her hand as he kept on muttering about his nervousness.

You watched as the mom eased his nerves with a single statement. "My child, I love you now, and I'll still love you after you go out and perform." The words warmed your heart. The affection from a mother was a distant memory in your mind. You could never recall a moment you were sad around your mother. Why did she have to leave so soon?

Before the kid could respond, he was called out to perform. He hugged his mom quickly and scrambled to the stage. You sat there lost in your thoughts, imagining what life would be like if your mother didn't pass away so early on.

You sighed. There was no use in fantasizing about a false reality even if it brought you temporary peace from your discomfort. What only mattered now was the present moment.

You noticed that the boy was back, a giant grin plastered on his face as he met up with his mother, it'd only be a few minutes until the winners were announced. Soon enough, all of the competitors were asked to reconvene at the stage.

You looked out at the audience again, but this time it was different. Rather than feeling anxious when meeting the gaze of someone, you felt content. Atsumu flashed his famous smirk and displayed a thumbs up, only to be quickly smacked down by Osamu. The two seemed to get into an argument after that, making you look at Suna who was now a giggling mess. The whole event made you laugh, momentarily forgetting about the heavy reign of disappointment on your shoulder.

However, the three of them got their act together once the top three standings were being announced. This part always made you fidgety. The uncertainty of the outcome always twisted your stomach in knots. Once second and third place were announced you took a deep breath, hoping that you were to be crowned first.

"And-" Here it was, you thought. The moment that decided whether or not you'd go to nationals. "-first place for the Hyogo Regional piano competition goes to-" You could feel your heart beating out of your chest. Your nails dug into your arm, the tension eating away at you. "-l/n y/n."

You almost jumped to the front of the stage when they announced your name. You did it, despite what your dad said, you did it. And it didn't matter what hateful words of disappointment he spat at you because in that very moment, you were enough.

Atsumu watched as you were handed a certificate. A radiant smile now present on your face. This smile was different, though. The one he was used to seeing was the seemingly perfect one, the one so perfect it was almost fake. The one you wore right now was one of genuine, heartfelt joy. Was this the real you? Just what else were you hiding under that perfect smile?

Osamu tapped his shoulder. "Stop staring at yer little girlfriend and let's go to the lobby before it gets too crowded. Suna said we're going to go out for udon."

"Yeah, yeah 'm coming," He muttered, never once taking his eyes off of your smile.

fun facts !

Osamu and Atsumu are notorious for always being late for everything, whether it be 10 minutes to an hour.

Atsumu daydreams when he's bored, only paying attention to what he wants to.

Every time Osamu cooks, he always puts on music in the background and it always differs depending on his mood.

perfectionism ©

smau written by @sagefzy

taglist: open just send an ask :)