One and Only | Osamu Miya

Chapter 1

"Hurry! The match is about to start!" Kira, Ari's friend, tugged her arm, and they hurried towards the gymnasium.  The air crackled with anticipation; a volleyball match against a rival school was about to begin. Ari and Kira, students of Inarizaki High, were there to cheer on their school's renowned volleyball team.

Arishira Haruki, a third-year student in Class 1-A, excelled academically, maintaining consistently high grades.  Inarizaki High's volleyball team was legendary, and the players, well, let's just say they were incredibly handsome.  The school's strict dress code seemed almost irrelevant when faced with the allure of these athletic stars.

As Ari and Kira found seats, the gym erupted. Girls shrieked, squealed, and fluttered like moths around a flame. The game was about to begin.  A collective roar filled the air as Atsumu Miya, the team's star setter, number 7, took his position.

While the crowd focused on Atsumu's dazzling skills, Ari's attention was drawn elsewhere. It wasn't the flamboyant Atsumu who captivated her, but his quieter, less celebrated twin brother, Osamu.  She watched calmly as Osamu worked seamlessly with his brother, their movements a perfectly choreographed dance. An idea sparked in her mind: she would ask Osamu for an autograph. It would be a dream come true.

The gym reverberated with the cheers of the crowd.

"Atsumu Miya! My love!"

"Go Atsumu, idol!"

"Whoa! Let's go!"

"That's our setter!"

The energy was electric, a palpable wave of excitement washing over everyone.  Inarizaki, as expected, won. The victory unleashed a fresh wave of ecstatic screams. The players, visibly exhausted but triumphant, slowly made their way off the court.  Ari decided it was now or never.

Osamu's Point of View:

The constant screaming over Atsumu grated on my nerves.  My twin brother always commanded the spotlight, leaving me in the relative quiet of the sidelines. I didn't mind, not really. I was used to it. The lack of attention was almost… peaceful.  But a small, persistent pang of jealousy always lingered. Why was it so unfair? Why, for once, couldn't someone tell me I was their favorite player?  Maybe I was too boring, too emotionless, too detached.  Atsumu was the opposite, vibrant and outgoing. It made sense, I supposed.

I sat on the bench, sipping water, while my teammates basked in the adoration of their fans. Then, a girl approached me.

"Miss, do you need something?" I asked, my tone neutral.

Her voice, a mixture of excitement and shyness, startled me. "Omigosh! Osamu Miya? You look handsome! I'm your biggest fan!"

My eyebrows rose slightly.  Biggest fan?  She had to be joking.

My face resumed its usual impassive expression as she continued. "May I have your autograph?"

I nodded, surprised.  My biggest fan?  No way.  No damn way.

I rummaged through my gym bag, finding a permanent marker. She presented her pink baseball cap.

"Your name?" I asked.

"Arishira. Ari, for short."

I took the cap, opened the marker, and carefully wrote my name, adding a small, almost hesitant smile. I’d never had a signature before; no one had ever asked. But this… this changed everything.

"Thank you, Osamu!" she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

Arishira's Point of View:

"Thank you, Osamu!" I breathed, my heart thrumming.

He offered a warm smile – a genuine smile, the kind I'd rarely seen on his usually emotionless face.  And it was perfect. I liked him exactly as he was. I was introverted too.  The fact that he'd signed my pink baseball cap felt surreal.

Then, he spoke, his voice low and surprisingly gentle. "You know, you're my only fan."

My eyes widened.  Really?  Just me?

"Really? Just me?" I asked, needing confirmation.

"Hm, yeah. My brother's the famous one, not me." He shrugged, a hint of amusement in his eyes.  He paused, then a quiet chuckle escaped his lips. "You'd probably be shocked if I told you how many confessions my brother gets every year… or in a week, at this point. It's ridiculous." He rolled his eyes playfully.

I chuckled too, a genuine, happy sound.  But honestly, I felt a surge of pride.  I was his only fan.  This was more than a dream come true; it was unbelievable.

Suddenly, Kira's arms encircled my wrists.

"Come on, Ari! We're going to be late for biology. It's almost 1 PM!"

Kira pulled me away, and we practically sprinted out of the gym.  Damn it! I hadn't even said a proper goodbye.

But… my favorite volleyball player had talked to me.  I was still blushing, a happy, giddy warmth spreading through me.  The day had been perfect, a memory I would cherish forever.  The thought of Osamu, his quiet smile, his unexpected confession, filled me with a joy that transcended the usual excitement of a volleyball match. It was a personal victory, a quiet triumph that resonated far beyond the cheers and the clamor of the game. The simple act of an autograph, a brief conversation, had created a connection, a memory that would forever hold a special place in my heart.  And that, I realized, was far more valuable than any autograph or any victory.

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