A Lazy Sunday with the Miyas

Sunday mornings in the Miya household were sacred. For Atsumu and Osamu, it was the one day of the week where volleyball took a backseat to the simple pleasures of life: sleeping in, eating good food, and bickering like the twins they were.

This particular Sunday, the sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the living room. Atsumu was sprawled on the couch, his phone dangling from his hand as he scrolled through social media. Osamu, on the other hand, was in the kitchen, methodically pulling ingredients from the fridge.

"'Samu, whatcha makin'?" Atsumu called out, not bothering to lift his head.

"Onigiri," Osamu replied flatly. "And if you want any, you better come help."

Atsumu groaned but peeled himself off the couch. "Fine, fine. But only 'cause I'm hungry."

He shuffled into the kitchen, where Osamu had already set out a rice cooker, nori, and a bowl of seasoned rice. Osamu handed him a small bowl of water mixed with salt.

"Wet your hands," Osamu instructed, already forming a perfect triangle of rice.

"I know how to make onigiri, dummy," Atsumu said, but he obediently dipped his hands. They worked in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds being the occasional splat of rice and the hum of the refrigerator.

As Atsumu struggled to keep his onigiri from falling apart, Osamu glanced over and smirked. "Yours look like blobs."

"Shut up! They taste the same!" Atsumu retorted, but he couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

They finished the onigiri and sat at the small dining table, each grabbing one. Atsumu took a big bite and hummed in approval. "Not bad, 'Samu. Maybe you should quit volleyball and open a restaurant."

Osamu rolled his eyes. "And maybe you should learn to cook something besides instant ramen."

"I can cook!" Atsumu protested. "I just don't have time."

"You have time to practice serving for three hours, but not to boil an egg?" Osamu raised an eyebrow.

Atsumu opened his mouth to argue, but then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it and smirked. "Oi, 'Samu, look at this. Kita-san posted a picture of his garden. Look at those tomatoes!"

Osamu leaned over to look. "Nice. Maybe we should visit him sometime."

"Yeah," Atsumu agreed, his tone softening. "It's been a while since we saw everyone."

They finished their onigiri, and Osamu washed the dishes while Atsumu dried. It was a routine they'd fallen into since moving in together, a choreographed dance that required no words.

After cleaning up, they migrated to the living room. Atsumu turned on the TV, flipping through channels until he found a volleyball match. Osamu groaned. "We're not even playing, and you're watching volleyball?"

"It's the Brazilian league! There's this setter who's insane!" Atsumu's eyes lit up.

Osamu sighed but sat down anyway. As the match played, Atsumu got more and more animated, pointing out plays and criticizing the setters' choices. Osamu just nodded along, half-watching, half-daydreaming about his next onigiri recipe.

Halfway through the second set, Atsumu suddenly said, "Hey, 'Samu. You ever think about what it'd be like if we weren't twins?

Osamu turned to him, confused. "What? Why would you think about that?"

"I dunno," Atsumu shrugged, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Like, would we still be friends? Would we be rivals?"

"We're already rivals," Osamu pointed out. "And we're friends, I guess."

Atsumu finally looked at him, a rare serious expression on his face. "Nah, I mean like, if we weren't brothers. Just two guys who met on the court."

Osamu paused, considering. "I think... we'd still find each other. We're too stubborn not to."

Atsumu's serious expression broke into a grin. "Yeah, you're right. I'd probably annoy you until you had no choice but to be my friend."

"You already do that."

"Exactly!"

They both laughed, the sound filling the small apartment. The match ended, and Atsumu turned off the TV.

"I'm bored," Atsumu declared. "Let's do something."

"Like what?"

"I dunno... bake cookies?"

Osamu stared at him. "You? Bake? The last time you tried, you almost set the kitchen on fire."

"That was once! And the fire was tiny!"

Osamu shook his head, but he was already standing up. "Fine. But you follow my instructions exactly. No improvising."

"Deal!"

They gathered the ingredients: flour, sugar, butter, eggs, chocolate chips. Osamu measured everything precisely, while Atsumu hovered, eager to help but also prone to distraction.

"'Samu, can I crack the egg?" Atsumu asked, holding an egg.

"Sure, but try not to get shell in the bowl."

Atsumu cracked the egg with too much force, and a piece of shell fell in. He quickly fished it out with a spoon, grinning sheepishly. "Got it!"

Osamu sighed. "Just... mix the dry ingredients."

As Atsumu stirred the flour and sugar, he hummed a tune. It was the school's fight song, and Osamu found himself humming along.

"Remember when we were first-years?" Atsumu said. "We were so annoying to the upperclassmen."

"We still are," Osamu replied, but there was no bite in his words.

"Yeah, but it's different now. We're the seniors. We gotta set an example."

"You? Set an example?" Osamu smirked. "You literally did a victory dance on the court last match."

"And it was awesome! The crowd loved it!"

They continued baking, the conversation flowing easily between them. They talked about upcoming tournaments, about their teammates, about Kita's garden and Aran's new job. It was a comfortable rhythm, the kind that only came from years of knowing someone inside and out.

When the cookies were finally done, the kitchen smelled like chocolate and warmth. They took the tray to the living room, settling onto the couch with a plate of slightly lopsided cookies.

Atsumu bit into one and groaned. "These are so good! 'Samu, you're a genius."

"You helped," Osamu admitted, taking a cookie for himself.

They sat in comfortable silence, munching on cookies. The afternoon sun streamed through the window, casting long shadows across the floor.

"Hey, 'Samu," Atsumu said softly.

"What?"

"Thanks. For... being here. With me."

Osamu glanced at him, a rare soft smile on his face. "Where else would I be?"

Atsumu didn't answer, just bumped his shoulder against his brother's. They stayed like that, side by side, as the day lazily drifted by. No volleyball, no competitions, no fans. Just two twins, a plate of cookies, and the simple joy of being together.

Eventually, Atsumu yawned. "I think I need a nap after all that baking."

"You're so lazy," Osamu said, but he was already leaning back, closing his eyes.

Within minutes, both of them were asleep, the empty plate on the coffee table, the remains of their lazy Sunday scattered around them. It was the kind of peace that only came from knowing you were exactly where you were supposed to be.

And somewhere in his dreams, Atsumu was serving an ace, and Osamu was smiling from the sidelines. Because no matter what, they always had each other.