fox on the run | miya osamu

are we okay?

Everything is finally going back to normal, Suiren reassures herself as she fiddled with the fake flowers Osamu gave. It's the first time she actually gets to hold flowers so she couldn't help but feel ecstatic about it.

"Suiren, what in the world are you doing?!" she hears an overly worried voice.

"Oh, Mom?" Suiren mutters, then lets out a smile.

"What has gotten into you?!"

"Don't worry, these are fake," she says, "I'm fine, I'm fine, I promise."

"Fake? Who gave those to you?" her mother asks, raising a brow.

"You know him, right? You met him already," she answers in a softer tone, feeling a little giddy.

"Who? That boy Kita?"

"Wait, what? No. And, how did you know about Kita-kun?"

"He's the one who brought you here, the nurses told me. I must admit, dear, he's one thoughtful boy," her mother comments and points at the bouquet.

"Mom, no, no, I'm talking about Osamu," she clarifies.

"Who?"

"Miya Osamu."

"When did I meet him?"

"He visited when I was admitted, he was with you," Suiren answers, her tone gradually showing her frustration.

"Ah, ah, whatever, forget it," her mother sighs.

"I'm not dating Kita-kun, okay?" Suiren feels the urge to clarify, not knowing why.

"Okay, if you say so, then okay."

"And, Mom," she mumbles.

"Yes, dear?"

"Can we not go?"

"We've talked about this."

"But I don't want to leave Hyogo."

INARIZAKI HIGH SCHOOL. "Your service, dummy," Atsumu teases, nudging his brother who's still spacing out.

"Huh? What?"

"Service. Osamu-san," Aran says in his usual deadpan tone as he hands the ball to Osamu.

"Oh, right," Osamu mutters and grabs it for himself before walking behind the service line.

"What's with ya today, 'Samu?" Atsumu scoffs.

"Shut yer trap," he hisses before raising the ball to serve.

Osamu, as everyone might have noticed by today, definitely needs to snap out of it, or whatever's bugging his head. He spikes the ball with all his might, pouring all his mixed emotions, good and bad.

"Aaand it's out. Again. Heh," the blonde sighs then looks at his pissed off twin.

"Osamu, you should take a break first," Kita advises, already losing count of how frequent his misses and faults are for today's training.

The younger clicks his tongue. It's the one voice he didn't want to hear.

"Fine," he groans, marching his way out of the court.

"Ah, forget him, maybe just a lil' tummy ache, that's all," Atsumu tells Kita.

"WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YOU?" Osamu grunts as he curls his fingers up tightly, clenching his fists. The moment Suiren brought up the letter in the hospital, he already figured it all.

The mere recollection of how happy it made her, along with the thought of how happier she'd be with Kita, breaks him beyond words. His guilt grows even heavier and along with it comes pain.

"Samu?"

Yet the sound of her mellow voice is enough to declutter his mind. "Samu," he hears her again.

"There you are," she adds. He sways his head to the left and he spots her approaching him with the use of crutches.

"Sui- Chuunchun?"

"Hi there, 'Samu. Did you miss me?" she asks with a smile.

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The two sit on a bench nearby for her convenience and despite being so close to her, Osamu keeps quiet. "The doctor says I can go out for a while but I still can't be discharged from the hospital. It'll take weeks," Suiren initiates the conversation.

"Oh, but, are you feeling better now?" he worries.

"Mhmm," she reassures him, still smiling.

"How's your practice?"

"Not that good. And by the way, 'Tsumu was scouted," he answers. It's quite unusual for him to ever talk about his brother in a positive light.

"Ah, good for him then," she comments.

"You don't have to feel bad for me," he says, forcing out a smile.

"Sorry."

While it's not the reason for his bitter behavior, he couldn't bring himself to say what's on his mind either.

"I don't feel bad. It's not what I wanna do in forever anyway," he says.

"I know."

"You do?"

"You talked about it. Your restaurant dream."

"Ah. I did. You did too."

"I can't wait for it to happen," she says as she reaches for his hand.

She firmly intertwines her cold fingers with his, her thumb slowly caressing his.

Yet his grip remains loose.

"Tell me, 'Samu. What's wrong? Are we okay?"