Chapter Text
It’s the faint smell of smoke that sets off Osamu’s alarms.
He’s already closed the shop for the day, released his staff early even though ‘Tsumu and the kids are still sprawled across the expanse of his wooden counter. Because - well, if Tsumu’s decided to use him as reinforcement to look after his kids when Kaiyo (Tsumu’s long-suffering wife, the one woman with enough steel in her spine to make Miya Atsumu behave and act like a decent human being) is away on some fancy work dinner, then he can damn well help him clean up the shop instead.
‘Sides his staff deserve a break from ‘Tsumu’s spawn-lings.
Not that he doesn’t love his niece and nephew dearly - he does, he’d do anything for them, set his store on fire if need be - but Shino already shows every indication that she’s inherited ‘Tsumu’s pig-headedness and Kaiyo’s mischief, which is incendiary when paired with an angelic smile. Just last week, she’d managed to sweet talk his hapless part-timer Miyamura-san into tossing disposable chopsticks to her in some made-up exercise to improve her reflexes , leaving his kitchen floor looking like it’s been strewn with twigs and firewood. Kaiyo made her daughter pick up every last chopstick and pay him back with her own pocket money (he’d set the money aside in the fund he has stashed as a wedding present to her), but still .
And Shoma .
Five year old Shoma with wide, solemn eyes, and a penchant for toddling around the bustling kitchen, heedless to the danger of finely sharpened knives and bursts of hot steam around him. The kid doesn’t say much, just watches with rapt attention as rice is shaped into balls, fillings prepared with care and occasionally swipes a bite or two - and that’s all fine , but he refuses to be shooed out unless it’s time for a meal. His staff treat him like their mascot, but Osamu knows first hand it’s troublesome to have to work in an overheated kitchen with a child underfoot after nearly spilling a trayful of precious cod roe because Shoma was crouched by the rice cooker investigating the rice that Kita brought over right after harvestime.
“Can’t you just order pizza for them instead of dragging them all the way here?” he asks ‘Tsumu, who sticks his tongue out petulantly.
“Sho-chan wanted yer onigiris and Shin-chan complained she hasn’t seen ya in ages, so who am I to say no to them? ‘Sides - ” Atsumu hefts Shoma up, holds him out as if Sho-chan’s a lion-cub being presented to his future subjects (he really really hates that he’s watched every single disney movie with the kiddos, nevermind that Lion King made him sniffle - he’ll deny it til his dying day) - “are ya really going to say no to Sho-chan when he’s hungry for his favourite uncle’s lovingly made food?”
Damn ‘Tsumu for hitting his weak spots with a bulls-eye (or a carefully thrown set, but nevermind the volleyball references), because everyone knows Osamu would rather swandive out of a window rather than see someone hungry, let alone his five year old nephew who’s secretly his favourite (he’ll deny it til his dying day). So he turns away with a huff and signals his defeat by making yet another negitoro onigiri that he knows is Sho-chan’s favourite.
It’s at that moment the scent of something burning hits his nostrils.
At first, he wonders if it’s just stubborn old Ishii-san from next door who’s snuck out back for a quick smoke - the whole street knows that his wife’s banned him from cigarettes after his hacking cough led him to be diagnosed with early stage cancer - but he quickly surmises that that can’t be the case when even Atsumu frowns, mouth puckering with worry.
The famed twin telepathy that Gintama always marvels at (which Suna dryly terms as them sharing a single brain cell) comes into play the instant they actually see a tendril of grey smoke creeping out of his back kitchen. Atsmu rockets to his feet, stool clattering behind him as he grabs Shino’s hand, hauling Shoma off the counter and onto his shoulder, dragging both children out of the shop despite their protests. Osamu for his part dashes to the kitchen, and suspicion confirmed when he sees bright flames licking their way through his kitchen, he spares only a moment to rescue his precious set of knives forged by Kaiyo’s family, a famed knife makers in the rolling hills of Hyogo before kicking the door closed.
“Called the firefighters already. They’re on the way”, Atsumu calls from the counter, busy emptying the register of the day’s takings.
Osamu passes the knives over to him with a nod, sprinting to the back office to empty the safe, madly grabbing documents, licenses, cash, the hard-drive with his records, his laptop - Atsumu appears to help, magicking a bag out of nowhere to toss everything pell-mell into its depths - he even manages to grab the drawing the Sho-chan did of the shop when it first opened before Atsumu hauls him out.
“Ma’ll kill me if I let you barbeque in your own damn shop, you idiot”, he hisses. “You can replace everything else but - ”
A high pitched scream, panic ringing clear in the night air.
“DAD!”
Atsumu takes off, practically flies to where Shino is, Osamu following closely. She’s bawling, fists clenched to her side and it’s hard to make out what she’s saying through her sobs as she verges on the edge of hyperventilating -
“Sho - Shoma - ”
The blood in his veins turns into ice.
He glances around but whilst the street is rapidly filling with well-meaning neighbours and bystanders, there’s no little boy - no Sho-chan around even though he’s sure Atsumu gave Shino strict orders to keep Shoma with her on the street, trusting in little boy’s general compliant nature to keep him out of trouble.
Realisation slams into him a split second before Atsumu even catches on. Instinct makes him shout at Shino to keep her dad with her - because ‘Tsumu has a family that needs him, Kaiyo’s been through too much pain to lose her idiot husband to a random fire of all things, and Shino is only twelve and he doesn’t even want to go there but they’ll need to pull together if Sho-chan - he’s not going to entertain any grim thoughts in the seconds that he pounds through his shop, cursing the shadows that might hide a five year old -
“Shoma!” he yells, smoke seeping into his lungs. “Sho-chan!”
He can’t tell whether it’s the inhaled gasps of smoke or fear pooling in his chest that constricts his throat, making it harder to breathe. Shoma isn’t anywhere in the front of the store where flames are already licking at table legs and chairs, which means he has to delve deeper into the belly of the store - the kitchen , the epicentre of the blaze and fuck fuck fuck it’s already hot enough that he’s sweating through his shirt -
“SHOMA!”
Any normal kid should have fled the kitchen by now, but Miya Shoma exists to defy the odds. Osamu flings the door to the kitchen open, choking at the fumes and practically lunges forward when he finally catches sight of a small form, the scarlet of Shoma coat unswallowed by the smoke and shadows.
Only to be stopped short by an infernal groaning sound above him.
The sudden crash of a wooden beam into the ground a veritable stick of dynamite. It just makes an already dangerous situation yet more deadly.
“Fuck ” he curses, picking his way gingerly in the direction of Shoma. He’s got to get them both out before Atsumu loses his mind and storms in, something he really needs to avoid because sure, his loved ones would mourn if he died today, but he doesn’t have a family of his own unlike Atsumu, so his life is worth less than that of his brother’s - stop stop stop - these grim thoughts are just slowing him down -
C’mon.
The way out isn’t blocked yet, they can both still make it out. It’s hot as the circles of hell, but he persists, pushing through towards Shoma who seems fine at the very least, crouched near the rice station - deemed thus for the numerous industrial rice cookers and wooden buckets where he carefully fluffs up his rice - all of that will burn into ashes, but there’s no time to mourn that either, they need to get out, stat.
The little boy weighs less than a sack of rice in Osamu’s adrenaline-filled rush to get out. Nerves of steel like his mother then, because he doesn’t even wail, and thankfully doesn’t put up a fight either, curling up his short limbs around Osamu’s neck and arms like a frightened housecat. The floor beneath him feels almost as if it’s caked in lava, scorching his heels through the soles of his feet so he runs for his life, precious cargo in his arms, the scant few steps between the kitchen and the safety of the streets outside never seeming so long before.
But he dashes through the wooden frame of the front door, doesn’t stop running until blonde hair comes into view, until he sees his twin’s face collapse in relief and sheer joy as he passes Shoma back to Atsumu, already crying -
“You’re so dramatic”, he says to rib his twin.
Or more accurately, that’s what he’d like to say because pain, red hot and blistering shoots up through the length of his arm into his shoulder, a million, billion, trillion times worse than the time he was stupid enough to try flipping tuna cheeks on a grill with nothing but his bare hands and a bucket of ice cold water in imitation of a street hawker he idolises.
So instead, he stumbles to his side, his focus already so bleary that his twin’s hoarse shouts don’t register. His head swims through the cacophony of ambulance sirens and the hubbub of the crowd that’s gathered, sinks between his hands as he tries to anchor himself, crouching low on the sidewalk. It’s awfully dark despite the fire burning bright in the night sky, he thinks to himself, before everything blissfully fades to black.
----------------------------------------------------
There’s a faint beeping in the background when he breaks the surface for air
Ripples of consciousness start to return to him in waves. A spark in the kitchen, his shop going up in flames. Finding Shoma despite the plume of black smoke, relief despite the ash in his mouth. Pain that only emanates as a dull ache.
He cracks an eye open.
A mirror image of himself stares back at him, albeit blonde.
“Samu”, Atsumu breathes, jumping to his feet to lean over the rails of the hospital bed. “‘Samu - d’you need water? Maybe I should call a nurse, get someone to check ya over - ”
Before Osamu can nod, Atsumu’s already reaching over to clumsily pour water from the waiting jug into a flimsy paper cup. He’s fed the water like a baby, and by the time he finishes the proffered water, which thankfully eases the parched desert in his mouth, Atsumu manages to wave down a passing nurse, who then drags a couple of doctors to this ringside show of him being subjected to a barrage of tests and questions that to determine that he’s still all there and hasn’t left his mind in his burnt down shop.
“M’fine” he croaks, after he’s finally, thankfully left alone. “Thought I might’ve died. But seeing yer ugly mug confirmed that I still got some ‘ways to go.”
“D-don’t joke about that.” To Osamu’s alarm, his idiot twin actually starts blubbering up. “Y-you gotta, - you gotta live a long life - you promised you’d show me that you’d have the better life, you’re not allowed to die yet - I still got a better life than you, you crazy scrub -”
He takes another sip of water before a terrible, awful thought hits him, steals his breath away.
“Is Sho-chan - ”
“He’s fine”, Atsumu cuts in, surreptitiously wiping his tears away. “Got some burns on his hands and they’ve stuck him in here for observation cos’ they’re concerned about smoke inhalation but he’s gonna be just fine.”
Osamu heaves a sigh of relief, a burden off his shoulders. “I was worried for a moment. Shouldn’t you be with your kid instead of lounging around by my side? Skiving again?”
Atsumu snorts wetly before barking out a laugh. “Kaiyo and I are takin’ turns. You better watch out when she comes up to see ya. She’s gonna weep and make a heck lot of noise before throwing herself at you, both to hug you and scold you for daring to get injured.”
He matches his twin’s snort. “Sounds about right for Kaiyo. S’okay, I’ll take the scolding like a big boy, but I’m glad the little guy’s okay.”
“He is ”, Atsumu says, smile dropping. “Well - better than you - ”
“You better not start cryin’ on me again or I’ll call a nurse over to kick ya out - ”
“Piece of shit - I ain’t gonna waste my tears on ya!”
They catch each other’s eye. A beat - before they both burst out laughing or well, Atsumu laughs while Osamu wheezes until they get a stitch in their sides and knock fists to show their affection, the callsign of siblings who’ve reduced their collective brain juice to one cell apiece. No maudlin show of affection, a fistbump is enough for him, thank you , even with a near death experience.
“By the way”, Osamu says when the stitch subsides. “Did anyone figure out why Sho-chan literally ran back into a burning building?”
At that, Atsumu groans.
“What?”
“That little bugger snuck back in ‘cos he wanted to save some rice paddle he’d been storing there. Apparently he got it from Asami-chan, and he couldn’t bear to lose it.”
Osamu can’t help but cackle. It’s a running joke that Atsumu and Kita would inevitably end up as in-laws the way their respective wives keep arranging for play-dates between their children. Of course, it’s only natural since Kaiyo and Ichika, Kita’s wife, are best friends - in fact, Kaiyo claims responsibility for setting Kita and Ichika up in the first place, and so their matchmaking machinations seem to have spilled over to their children, evident from the way Asami would light up whenever Shoma visits the farm and bawls when he leaves, and the way Shoma follows Asami around like a duckling and happily plays along with all her tea parties.
“You should just consider Kita family at this point by now”, Osamu jokes. “It’ll be official in twenty years time anyway.”
“Both my kids are gonna end up with my captains’ kids”, Atsumu moans. “Shino’s gonna run away with Meian’s son at the rate we’re going. It’s so weird - how can I even try intimidating the kid when his dad used to make me run laps ‘cos I poked fun at Omi-omi just a bit too much during practice - ”
“Well at least it’s Shinsuke’s daughter that Sho-chan likes. Imagine if it were Sakusa’s kid.”
The twins share a collective shudder.
“I’m just glad they’re cousins instead, so no chance of that. Though - d’you remember when he kinda pitched a fit when he realised that we’d all be one big happy family cos he married Kaiyo’s cousin? I get to tease Omi-omi during family gatherings now!”
“I’m sure he enjoys that”, Osamu replies dryly.
“He does!”
“He definitely doesn’t ”, a female voice declares definitively.
Atsumu brightens up immediately, leaping to his feet. “Baby! You came to see me!”
“I came to see ‘Samu not you, you big lug”, Kaiyo says as she blows in like a beautiful storm, arms full of bags bulging with tupperwares of food (which Osamu sniffs appreciatively at, hospital grub isn’t really up to scratch and he’s already missed breakfast), swatting Atsumu away playfully as he winds his arms around her, nuzzling her cheek. “Though I am here to relieve you so you can go grab lunch, Sho-chan’s asleep and I wanted to spend some time with my favourite brother in law - ”
“I’m your only brother in law”, Osamu remarks dryly but only receives a gentle tweak of his ear in reply.
“I guess I’m off then”, Atsumu pats his back. “My turn to sit by the little rascal in case he decides to run away to Hyogo before Ichika and the girls come over, and it’s your turn to get nagged at anyway - ”
“Are you calling me a nag, Miya Atsumu?” Kaiyo asks archly.
Osamu has the pleasure of watching Atsumu turn sheet white as he backpedals furiously, assuring Kaiyo that she’s the best wife in the world , and he’d never think she’s a nag, and her scoldings are just her way of showing love - which is great, you can continue scolding me, c’mon I’ll even lie down and let you step on me, I probably deserve it anyway , until Kaiyo grows tired of his silliness and boots him out of the room.
“Don’t look at me like that”, he says, hands up in defence when she turns to him.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re undecided whether to scold me or cry over me, or worse , thank me , - ”
“Miya Osamu, you nearly died - ”
“I didn’t, just came out with a few burns or two, your kid damn near scared me to death though - ”
He’s interrupted by the press of shaking lips to his temple.
“Oh, ‘Samu - ”
“You’re not allowed to cry all over me - ”
She chokes back a broken sob, and Osamu will insist until he’s laid in his grave that his eyes remain bone dry. “C’mere”, he says roughly, opening his arms out as she climbs in beside him, laying her head on his shoulder. Her hand catches his, squeezing tight, saying what she’s left unsaid.
He has the honour of meeting Kaiyo first, besting Atsumu in that regard. Barely in their twenties when she stumbled into his ramshackle first shop - she, then a poor student on the lookout for a part time job to make ends meet, him, struggling to make a business from nothing into something. A prank on Tsumu is the first spark that explodes into a wildfire, one that tears through their lives. When it culminates in his twin stumbling into a marriage he definitely doesn't deserve and almost losing the only woman in the world with enough steel in her spine to match him, he’s always thought the only silver lining to the entire situation is that he gained her as a sister.
('D'you love her?' Atsumu demanded, when their marriage falters, almost irrevocably damaged by his own hands.
Osamu thinks of her struggling to hold down the fort as Atsumu jaunts off to Milan, juggling Shino and a full time job, gritting her teeth and holding her head high even as everyone else looks at her with judgement in their eyes, whispering about her, pitying her behind her back.
'Of course I do', he'd replied, as natural as breathing. 'She's my sister, you asshole. I hate that it’s my brother who’s causing her pain.')
A decade later, long after the grass has grown over the scorched earth, after Atsumu finally recognises the immense luck he’s had winning Kaiyo as his wife and puts in the backbreaking work needed to fix his marriage, that hasn’t changed. Time has only made them closer - she’s also been giving to him, generous with her time and help ( having an accountant in the family makes filing taxes a breeze ), a warm presence in his busy life, a listening ear with much more sense than his volleyball crazed brother.
So yes, he loves her. She’s family - it's only natural that he'd do anything for her and hers.
“He’s your boy - but he's mine too”, he says simply.
“You - ”, her voice breaks off, a little cracked. “You can’t say things like that and expect me not to cry, Miya Osamu - You can’t, you can’t ”, he coughs in an attempt to hide the growing heat in his eyes, but it’s futile when she curls her fingers in his, when the sleeve of his hospital gown becomes damp.
“I was so, so scared when ‘Tsumu called me. When I heard you got hurt. And then I hear you got hurt running into a fire to drag Shoma out, I don’t think I could breathe properly until the doctors said you were fine - ”
“See, you’re cryin’ for nothin’ - ”
“Stop it! At least let me thank you properly - ”
“You don’t need to”, he says. “I’d do it again. Won’t even think twice about it.”
He yelps when she tries her best to crush his ribcage in her chokehold of a hug, especially since he’s still a little tender from the whole diving headfirst into a fiery inferno kinda thing. “I’m gonna thank you anyway”, she murmurs. “And at the rate I’m going, it looks like I’m gonna owe you in the next lifetime or two. Maybe we should make it three, just to be safe.”
“Nah”, he affects a drawl through his blocked nose and wet eyes. “I guess if you count that I’m responsible for settin’ you up with ‘Tsumu, consider us even.”
She smacks his good side. “Don’t say that about your own brother!” she scolds, but he’s relieved to hear the lilt of her laughter, clear as a bell.
“You and I both know he’s a piece of shit and you’re crazy for puttin’ up with him - ”
“Only I can bully him, you stop being mean -”
“Hey, I had to put up with him since we were in the womb - ”
She rolls her eyes as they fall into their familiar patterns of bickering, and he lets her boss him around, eyes gleaming when she lays out tupperwares full of food. Kaiyo isn’t the best of cooks, she’d admit it herself, but he taught her all he knew about making food, so he laughs aloud when he sees the familiar rice and nori combinations - deconstructed onigiris, she calls them, the ingredients packed on the side. He happily wields his chopsticks to scoop perfectly cooked rice up, screwing up his eyes in delight when he pops a jewel-like umeboshi into his mouth.
Food is a simple pleasure, it truly makes his belly sing. It also makes him fall fast asleep.
When he wakes, he’s greeted by some of his staff. It’s grown from just Kaiyo in his early days to a sizable crew, necessary to man the three shops he has dotted around Osaka - well, two now that one’s burnt down. Suzuki, the matriarch who mans his busiest store downtown in his stead with an iron fist, brings a cake with piped flowers instead of real blooms ( she alone knows about his secret sweet tooth ), Miyamura, the college aged part-timer who takes on far too many shifts to be good for his grades shyly slides over some homemade burn ointment from his mother in Kyushu, Morita and Ishida, his dynamic duo of cooks stationed in his second shop sneak in pints of beer to the horror of the nurse in attendant, and stoic Murata, who he’d sent home early that night, gruffly pats his back and wishes him well.
“I’ll need to adjust the schedule. And call the suppliers in the morning, cancel some orders if we’re only running two stores instead of three”, he frowns, fingers itching for his phone which Atsumu confiscated, correctly surmising that he’d be unable to just take a break, damnit Samu! You nearly died - which is annoying, because he does have arrangements to make.
“The lady boss is on it”, Murata says.
He can’t help but chuckle when Morita and Ishida start to recount an animated and likely embellished tale of Kaiyo taking over the reins, arranging schedules, browbeating suppliers, popping into the shops to reassure his regulars - all this in the afternoon, whilst he slept.
“I guess I should count myself lucky that you decided to walk into my shop ten years ago”, he tells her, when she returns to his side after dinner.
She huffs a laugh, arranging the pillows before she climbs in beside him again. “It’s a damn good thing I’ve been in charge of your accounts all these years.”
“It’s a good thing my brother married an accountant - ”
“Your filing system would be a mess otherwise. I can’t believe how many fishmongers I had to call today - all of them say don’t worry about a thing, just get well soon, except for Hara-san - who’s very grumpy by the way - it was super hard to stay polite, because he insisted on sending tuna to you, never mind that your shop is a burnt out husk - ”
He bumps her with his elbow, offers his good shoulder to her as a pillow. “Sounds exhausting”, he says lightly. “You sound like you need a nap.”
“I can’t believe you do this everyday”, she grouses, but she’s out like a light almost immediately. He curls a protective arm around her as she lets out a gentle snore, but even then he takes the opportunity to steal her phone and snap a surreptitious photo of her (a habit learnt from Suna, no doubt), sending it immediately to Atsumu with the cheeky caption - look at sleeping beauty right here. It’s rare that he gets to clown on Kaiyo, just a little bit. Besides, it’s fun turning the tables on her once in a while and siding with ‘Tsumu, she’ll pretend to rage about it when she finds out, and it’ll distract her at least from the situation they’re in.
There’s a hesitant knock on the door just as he’s about to fall asleep himself. He wonders if it’s the nurse, here to check on his burn dressings.
(it isn’t. it’s someone he hasn’t met yet. someone who may or may not play a starring role in this chapter of his life.)
The door slides open. You step in.
“Hi”, you say, then you bow.
(fire can be the catalyst of new beginnings, even as it destroys)