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When Atsumu wakes up, he’s a shrub. This is unfortunately not a surprise.
Brambled, branching arms and the feeling of damp soil in every crevice is what he gets, he supposes, for pissing off the local witch. He can only hope that he’s somewhere near home – she’s gone to court for sending someone overseas before – so that he doesn’t have to walk too far once the curse gets broken. If it gets broken. He hopes it does.
Last night, after bar hopping in the city with Osamu, he’d drunkenly tossed some of their trash in someone’s garden. Osamu had given him a weak punch, too tired to really scold him. Doesn’t that old hag live ‘round here? Osamu had asked, struggling to make out house numbers in the two a.m. darkness.
It’s fine, Atsumu had replied as they ambled home. Dude, what’re the odds that’s her property?
A hundred percent, apparently.
He’d kind of expected the sensation to be different. Well, it is different, in that he doesn’t have eyes but can kind of see everything around and below him (including a rusting, rotting can of half-eaten beans a few metres away, ew) in a sort of fuzzy, unclear way. He knows that he’s surrounded by lots of other plants, that there’s a decent amount of sunlight and lots of water nearby, and can even vaguely tell the colours of the things around. Still, for some reason, part of him had expected to be able to sense the water running through each little stem, but he’s not complaining. Being a shrub would be torturous if he had to feel his own blood moving. Actually, if he focuses hard enough– nope, nope, he’s not perceiving all that for the sake of his sanity. The existence of that fucking can is already too much.
When he tries to move, he notes that he has some wiggle room. He can worm his roots around and shake his branches just aggressively enough to make some sound – so he can hear, too? Can all shrubs see and hear? He hopes not. He ate shit running after his childhood crush once and there were a lot of shrubs around to see. He would prefer if they couldn’t gain sentience and vouch for his embarrassing moments.
As he’s trying (and failing) not to relive these moments, a small rat runs up to him, attracted by the sound, and starts nibbling on a flower. There’s a weird… phantom pain. It doesn’t hurt, thank god, but there’s the feeling that it should, and the distinct notion that he’s losing something. Shaking his branches doesn’t seem to get it to go away. Is this his life now? Shaking his many wooden fists at rats that come to eat him?
“Motherfucker,” he swears. The rat startles, looks around. Stares at him. Books it away.
So he can talk, then. Super useful if a human comes by that can call a curse breaker for him. If.
Atsumu has the sinking feeling that there are no humans nearby. This is the exact kind of shit that that witch would pull. He supposes it’s somewhat deserved – littering in someone’s garden is an asshole move, but it’s especially harmful when the plants run on any amount of nature magic. He probably fucked up one of her leylines and some of her cabbages will taste weird now.
Atsumu sighs, branches drooping. It’s not a terrible curse, he supposes. He’s a shrub in a lush environment that doesn’t have to think about survival in the slightest, and he can even call out if anyone walks by. Three years ago, a man tried to hit the old witch and got turned into a tadpole and thrown into the lake. It was only because of a lucky kid with strong magic senses that he lived to tell the tale. In comparison, this is tame as hell.
Though he kind of wishes it’d taken him longer to come to terms with being a shrub because now he has the brain space open to consider something less pleasant: everyone is going to give him so much shit. This incident is forever going to be on the List of Things to Make Fun of Atsumu For: getting turned into a damn shrub.
At the very least, he shouldn’t have to wait too long for rescue since Osamu will figure out why he’s missing pretty quickly. Osamu, with his cooking, should be able to get on the witch’s good side so that she’ll tell him where Atsumu is, which will be faster (and less expensive) than hiring someone to track him down. He’ll get the grappling lecture-fight of a lifetime when he gets home, but he’ll get home. But he hates arguing with Osamu when he’s in the wrong, and considering that it’s certainly going to happen, he’d rather not live through it more than once by speculating on it.
But what else is he supposed to think about? He’s a shrub, for god’s sake.
Usually, when he needs to not think, he works out, which isn’t possible. Sometimes he’ll watch some anime or play around with basic charms – also not possible. The one thing he can be grateful for is that this shrub-body doesn’t seem capable of feeling truly restless. So all he has to do now is sit and wait.
And wait.
And wait.
…
Holy shit, is that a snake? He thinks it’s a snake – long, scaly, slithering, and brightly coloured (which probably means danger, but he’s a shrub, so what’s it mean to him). This is exciting, he decides, because he’s going to go super insane if he doesn’t have something to think about.
The snake keeps winding its way around, seemingly just enjoying the scenery if its unhurried, looping path is anything to go by. After a few minutes, it finally approaches Atsumu, tastes the air around him (or whatever snakes are doing with that cute little tongue poke) and winds around his base, which kind of feels… good? It's got enough weight for him to feel it, and the smooth column of its body wriggles in controlled loops around him. This revelation is, to put it lightly, horrifying. He is a shrub and this is a snake and he is kind of getting obsessed with the feel of the snake slithering between his branches. Is this going to haunt him forever? Will he have to explain this in therapy?
The snake pauses within him for a while before getting bored and gracefully looping away. Atsumu kind of misses it, which he does not want to interrogate. Unfortunately, he has way too much time to interrogate it. Still, he’s a master at ignoring his problems, so he instead spends some time hoping to summon some spectral hands to toss away the can of rotting beans. Unfortunately, it seems he can’t do any magic as a shrub.
The rest of the day passes without incident. A few more animals scamper around nearby. The air goes from hot to cool as his flowers slowly tilt with the sun. As a whole, he finds that time… it doesn’t pass faster as a shrub, but he’s not as antsy with the amount of time that passes. By the end of the day, there’s a long stretch where he just sits and enjoys the peace of wherever he’s been plopped.
There’s the occasional spike of anxiousness when he realizes that while he’s having a nice time here, his human life is completely abandoned for the time being. He’s on spring break, so with luck, he won’t miss any important classes, but he’s gonna have so much shit to clean. And Osamu. But he's decided he won’t think about that conversation, so he doesn’t.
When night falls, he finds himself lulled into a gentle sleep.
—
Atsumu finds himself growing fond of the snake.
Out of every little creature that’s scampered by him, the snake is by far the most eye-catching. It comes by often, usually winding around Atsumu, sometimes taking short naps in his branches. It’s always soaking wet and usually slithers back to the water before it can begin to dry out. Atsumu has no clue why the little guy has taken a liking to him, but he feels a weird sense of shrub-pride about it. Not to mention that the feel of smooth scales against his branches is divine. (Atsumu is a little worried that by the time his curse is broken, he’ll have lost all survival instinct around snakes. A snake will choke him to death and he’ll be too busy marvelling at the feel of it to notice.)
Three days into his life as a shrub, he decides to talk to the snake a bit. He’s pretty sure snakes can’t hear, and they certainly don’t understand Japanese, but he needs something to do and expressing his fondness for his little friend is as good an activity as any.
“Hey, little guy,” Atsumu whispers the next time it comes around. He doesn’t want to be loud – what if it likes coming here specifically for the quiet? What if it’s hiding from predators? He watches the snake for any reaction, in case the vibrations in the air scare it away.
He does get a reaction. It is not the one he expects.
One moment a cute green-yellow-orange-black snake is approaching him. The next, with a dispersing poof of smoke, there’s a person.
Well– not quite. Or– he thinks it’s a person, but not human. Instead, it’s – he? The person looks like a 'he' – he’s kind of human-shaped from the waist up, and distinctly snake-shaped downwards. Instead of skin, he has scales arranged in colourful, intricate patterns, still following the same green-yellow-orange gradient with black laid over top. He has curly black hair and dark eyes that both shimmer like his scales, reflecting subtle shades of green and blue – he can barely make out slitted pupils. His tail tapers down from the width of his hips, curling under him, supporting him to about the height of a human.
“What the fuck,” Atsumu whispers to himself more than anyone. He knows snake people exist, but they’re rarely seen in cities. Atsumu is, notably, not in a city right now, so this is totally fair game. It doesn’t stop him from vibrating like a rabid chihuahua in a poor shrub-approximation of shock.
The snakeman tilts his head, looking down at him, pink forked tongue flicking out for a moment. “So you do talk.”
“I– you– what the fuck?”
He frowns. “Why are you the surprised one? Snakemen are normal here. Talking shrubs are not.”
“I didn’t expect ya to be a snakeman! And what’s your problem!?” Atsumu shouts, waving a branch around like a fist.
The man’s tongue pokes out again. “Are you cursed? I thought I tasted a curse on you, but you weren’t doing anything weird. Until now. Obviously.”
“I–” Wait. This guy can talk. He can interact with people. Maybe, just maybe, he can help find someone to get Atsumu uncursed. He tries not to get his hopes up – snakemen are reclusive at best – but maybe. “Yeah, I’m cursed. Woke up like this a few days ago. I-is there any way you can help me?”
“Not really,” he replies, which, fair, but Atsumu still reserves the right to droop in disappointment. “Even if I knew a cursebreaker, it sounds like this is a personal affair. Did you offend someone?”
“Maybe…”
“Then getting external help won’t fix things. Most witches will just curse you again if you get rid of it too fast. That’s what my sister says, at least.”
Atsumu sighs. “You’re right. Thanks for considerin’ anyways.”
“I wasn’t really.”
Well, at least he’s honest. “Thanks for… bein’ here, then. Keepin’ me company.”
“I wasn’t doing that either. I was investigating whether you’re a threat.”
“Ya make it real hard to compliment ya, y’know that?”
The guy flicks his tongue out twice, which he seems to think constitutes a reply.
“Say, what’s your name, anyways? It’d be nice to know, since I dunno how long it’ll be till I leave this place,” Atsumu says, gesturing vaguely to the environment as a whole with a gentle sway of his branches.
He watches Atsumu for one, two, three long moments. Cocks his head. Furrows his brow.
Just when Atsumu thinks he’s going to leave, he says, “Sakusa Kiyoomi.”
“Miya Atsumu,” he says in lieu of a reply. “Nice to meet ya, Omi-kun.”
Sakusa pouts slightly. “Don’t call me that. I don’t even know you.”
“Now ya do!”
He sighs but slithers a little closer. After a moment of deliberation, he turns back into a snake with a subtle poof of smoke and curls around Atsumu’s branches again. A shiver – or whatever the shrub-equivalent of a shiver is – wracks his body.
“Uh, is this– this is still part of your reconnaissance?” he croaks out.
Snake-Sakusa flicks his tail in annoyance and slithers out of the branches. Turning back to a snakeman again, he says, “This is where I always take my breaks. It’s not my fault you’re in the way.”
Before Atsumu can even begin to respond, Sakusa is a snake again, sliding back into the shadowed spaces beneath his flowers. “Uh. Okay,” he says in a whisper, not wanting to scare Sakusa away. The guy isn’t particularly helpful, but he’s company. Atsumu will take what he can get.
—
They develop a routine. Or, more accurately, Sakusa’s routine just so happens to include Atsumu, and he’s not complaining in the slightest.
Early in the morning, Sakusa grabs a toad or two from the water and drags it nearby for a snack. When the day is most warm and humid, Sakusa hides in Atsumu’s branches, away from the little sunlight that filters through all the foliage around. In the evening, he’ll turn into his snakeman form and sit close for a short chat.
He seems largely content to listen to Atsumu ramble (except for his afternoon nap. He won’t stand for any disturbance then), so ramble he does. Atsumu jumps around whatever anecdotes he can think of, warning Sakusa of the various possible humans that might come nearby to uncurse him. Sakusa doesn’t seem pleased at the prospect of some noisy humans tromping around, but it sounds like he vaguely knows of the witch in question and approves of her, so there’s that. That’s promising – they must be close to home.
It’s nice. Atsumu doesn’t get how all the other plants around can be so chill all the time without getting bored, but he supposes that’s good enough proof that they’re not very sentient. He starts to pick apart the things Sakusa leaves obscure – like how his not knowing anything about shitty American TV is not, in fact, a result of living in a wetland. They get fine reception; he just prefers to read obscure erotica (??) as a form of entertainment. It takes approximately five hundred percent of Atsumu’s self-control not to ask further. He does not need to have anything awakened in him. Anything more, at least.
Sakusa also seems to share Atsumu’s newfound hatred for trash, scrunching his nose in disgust when he mentions the can of beans. After what seems like a very intense internal struggle, Sakusa slinks off and grabs another snakeman to take care of it, which gives Atsumu a welcome sense of relief. Is this how the witch feels about trash in her garden? She’s not a shrub, but she is a nature witch, so her sensitivity to nature must be the same or stronger.
“Thanks for that,” Atsumu chirps at the new snakeman after the can has been moved out of sight.
“No problem,” the new snakeman says. He’s got similar scale colourings to Sakusa, though the black patterns are rounder, reminiscent of bubbles. His hair is light brown, and he’s notably more chipper than Sakusa. Are the two of them-? “So you’re the cursed guy Kiyo found the other day?”
“Yep! Miya Atsumu.”
The snakeman hums. “Komori Motoya. I’m Kiyo’s cousin! Nice to meet you!”
Cousin. Atsumu supposes he can kind of see it, though that’s ninety-eight percent due to them both being covered in neon scales – in eye shape, hair, and demeanour, they’re quite different. Sakusa’s features spark some more wonder, too, though Atsumu can’t pinpoint why. “Back at ya.”
Komori shivers, turning to Sakusa. “Ugh, how long do you think that trash was there? It was even rusting. Is that why the toads haven’t been tasting as good on that side of the pond?”
“It wasn’t on any major leylines, so I doubt it,” Sakusa says, face still a little scrunched in residual disgust. “Unless there’s more trash around that is blocking them?”
“No, no, Iizuna would know if that was the case,” Komori says, shaking his head. “Well–” he turns to Atsumu with a grin– “I’ve gotta head back now. If you see any more trash, let us know, ‘kay?”
Atsumu shakes a branch in an imitation of a nod or wave – he doesn’t have the biggest variety of body language at his disposal, okay? It can count as both.
“And thanks! For keeping Kiyo some company!” he says, poofing back into snake form and slithering away.
Atsumu does a mental turn toward Sakusa. It’s more that he narrows his focus on him since he can’t exactly turn his bush. “You’re not goin’ back?”
Sakusa pouts. “My routine is already all messed up. I guess I’ll stay until it’s nap time…”
Atsumu does a mental cheer, choosing not to interrogate why he’s so fond of his prickly snake-friend. Or, no– he can totally interrogate it: it’s because he’s bored. That’s the only plausible reason, so case closed – he’s so good at introspection!
And if Sakusa’s weight around him is comforting to the point of warmth beyond physical, that’s just because he’s relieved that the trash is gone.
—
Sakusa breaks routine again a few days later.
As dawn begins to shift into morning, Sakusa comes by in snakeman form, carrying a woven basket full of cloth.
“What’s up, Omi-kun?” Atsumu asks, fruitlessly trying to peer into the basket. He keeps forgetting that he can’t really change his angle of view, but since he’ll hopefully be a human again soon, there’s no real point in breaking these habits.
“Motoya said he spotted some humans nearby that seemed like they were looking for someone. We’re gonna go talk to them and see if they’re here for you.”
Huh?
“W-wait, for real?” he asks, not quite sure what he’s even asking about – for real, people are here? Or for real, you’re doing something nice for me?
“Mhm.” Sakusa pulls out something from the basket – a long-sleeved shirt? “Usually, to talk to humans, we try to look like them. Is this a normal piece of clothing?”
“Uh-? Yeah, it’s pretty standard, but you don’t need clothes-?”
Sakusa cocks his head at him, flicking his tongue out. “We have humanoid forms. Do you not know anything about the species that live right beside you?”
“H-hey! Most people never see a snakeman in their lives!”
Sakusa shakes his head, putting the shirt down. As if it’s completely normal, with a poof of smoke, he transforms into something far more humanoid, which – Atsumu really should’ve paid more attention in social studies, because he did not know snakemen could do that. He kind of thought they were often drawn humanoid just for fun.
Sakusa’s skin is pale, a stark contrast to his still-dark hair. He has two cute moles above his brow where dark scales used to be. Scales still litter a decent chunk of his skin – around the backs of his arms, his hands, scattered across his hips.
He’s… a really pretty person. Atsumu already kind of thought that – fine, he’ll admit it! – but he figured that was just a weird shrub-perceptive filter. But like this, Atsumu can recognize that his bone structure is this satisfying mix of sharp and soft, that the curl of his hair is, frankly, unfair for the humidity, and that the patterns of his scales are something truly mesmerizing now that Atsumu doesn’t have the luxury of seeing them from every angle.
He catches a glimpse of back scales when Sakusa shifts and can’t stop himself from blurting, “Can I see your back?”
Sakusa frowns, sends him a quizzical look.
“C’mon, please? I mean – I don’t exactly have a whole lot to look at here. I need some variety in my life or I’ll wither away before they even find me!”
Sakusa sighs, familiar with Atsumu’s exaggerations by now, and slowly turns around. And wow.
Atsumu has always been a sucker for back tattoos. He’s fond of how much can be done with such an extensive canvas. This is prettier than any tattoo could hope to be.
When he compares it in his head, he can recognize that it’s practically the same as Sakusa’s scale patterns in snakeman form, but Atsumu had never truly appreciated it – had never processed the threat of leaving so soon to make him want to see more. He suddenly wants more days like this, sitting with Sakusa, admiring the sharp intricacies of his scales. Maybe he’d even like to run his hands across Sakusa’s face, feeling the structure of it that’s usually obscured by the colourful patterns.
The moment is over too quickly, he thinks. Sakusa shakes a few specs of soil off the shirt and tugs it on, covering most of his scales. Then he pulls a long, flowing skirt out of the basket and steps into it.
Atsumu promptly attempts not to go into cardiac arrest before remembering that he physically can’t do that. Whatever choked noise he makes involuntarily alerts Sakusa to his confusion.
Sakusa flicks his tongue out – still forked, interesting enough. His eyes remain slitted too. “Legs are weird,” he says. “Many snakemen prefer tight clothing in humanoid form, except for the legs. I don’t know how you live, having a big slice cut out of you.”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Makes sense,” Atsumu responds lamely. “So… why do ya have to go like this, anyways? Isn’t it better if they know you’re a snakeman right from the get-go?”
“They’ll know,” Sakusa says gesturing to his eyes. “It’s some historical tradition. Snakeman form means hostility, humanoid form means negotiation or something.”
A new, more cheerful voice joins in. “I doubt the humans would be violent either way, but it’s better safe than sorry, y’know?”
“Komori-kun?”
“Mhm!” Komori says as he steps within Atsumu’s clearer range of vision. He’s already in humanoid form, dressed similarly in a form-fitting shirt and a skirt. “You good to go, Kiyo?”
Sakusa nods, brows scrunching as he steps around a bit, probably trying to get used to having legs. He turns to Atsumu with a nod. “Your friends better not be violent.”
“They aren’t, I promise! Just – uh, my twin’s kinda hotheaded, so don’t be too rude, ‘kay?”
“You say that as if you’re not hotheaded.”
Atsumu shakes a branch in anger. “Huh!? I’ve never done anythin’ outta line!”
“You physically can’t. And yet, all you do all day is shake and yell.”
Komori barks out a laugh. “Alright, alright, let’s go. I’ll take care of the talking – Kiyo’s just coming ‘cause he knows this area better than me.”
Atsumu huffs, waving a branch goodbye as the two of them walk off. It should be easy to just zone out like he often does when he has nothing to do as a shrub, but the anticipation slows time down to a crawl. Is it really his brother? Or is it just some tromping tourists here to litter everywhere?
The sun has moved a surprisingly small amount when he gets his answer. Distantly, on the very edges of his perception, he feels multiple figures walking around, speaking quietly. He perks up, leaves rustling. A few moments later, there are clear voices.
“Here?” Rintarou’s voice.
“Kiyo left a basket nearby, so you can look for that,” Komori’s voice responds.
“Sorry if you find his dead body after we turn him back. ‘Samu was not happy about having to play nice with the witch.”
“Ah, you’ve gotta take responsibility for the murder, though. We don’t want any misconceptions.”
“Done.”
“Ya couldn’t plot my murder outta earshot, asshole?” Atsumu yells, shaking his branches. The conversation cuts off, footsteps hurrying toward him.
Rintarou stops in front of him, along with Sakusa and Komori. Osamu is a few steps behind. “Give me a sec,” Rin says, stepping back a bit and moving the basket to the side. Then, predictably, he takes out his phone and starts taking pictures.
“Wh– Fuck you!” Atsumu shouts, rustling around more. It’s only when he realizes Rintarou is probably recording that he quiets down, grumbling at his smug expression. Then he lets out a little amused huff himself – he must look stupid as a shrub, shaking and yelling. Rintarou’s grin and Osamu’s very poor attempt to hide his laughter prove that.
After sufficient blackmail has been collected, Rintarou takes a small runestone out of his pocket – the cursebreaker, presumably. “‘Samu had to help reset the leylines and then cook, like, a week’s worth of food before she forked this over.”
“Oh… haha…” Atsumu shuffles nervously, chancing a glance at Osamu, who looks like he can’t decide whether to be angry or relieved. At least the laughter took the edge off.
Finally, Rintarou tosses the stone on him. A strange jerking sensation washes over Atsumu, and he swears he blacks out for a moment. When he comes to, he’s lying in the damp soil, distinctly human-shaped and distinctly naked.
Someone tosses something – clothing? – over him, which he appreciates. He rubs his eyes, trying to get used to having a regular method of sight again, feeling strangely cut off from the environment.
As he sits up, someone whacks him on the back of the head. “How d’ya feel, idiot?”
“Ugh, can we save that for later? I feel like I’m gonna start coughin’ up leaves,” Atsumu mutters, sluggishly trying to pull on the hoodie that was thrown at him. It’s one of his own. He makes a note to be a little nice to Osamu for bringing him clothing.
Osamu scrunches his nose but says, “We brought some food and water. You’ll be fine.”
Sakusa and Komori are talking quietly a short distance away, having, at some point, shifted back into snakeman form and discarded their clothing. He stares for a moment before softly clearing his throat and muttering, “So, uh, how far didja travel to get here?”
Osamu frowns. “Not long. Train was less than half an hour, walked for another half.”
Atsumu hums, still staring at Sakusa. Under an hour isn’t long at all.
Rintarou snorts, following his line of sight. “You wanna fuck one of those snakes, don’t you,” he says, a terrible grin spreading on his face.
“Wh– huh!? No!”
“You’re so fuckin’ weird,” Osamu mutters. “Just get your clothes on. If you’re still lustin’ after snake people by tomorrow, fine.”
“I dunno, ‘Samu,” Rintarou says with faux innocence. “The shorter one’s pretty cute.”
“You’re both degenerates.”
Rintarou snickers, Atsumu letting himself laugh a little too. He finishes tugging his clothes on, taking a few minutes to adjust to having legs and moving around again. Komori makes small talk with Osamu and Rintarou while Atsumu goes through his phone (which the two of them brought, bless them) to let all the people he’d accidentally ghosted know that no, he isn’t dead. The reception here is surprisingly good. When he feels like they’re starting to overstay their welcome, he walks over to Sakusa, who’s mostly been watching quietly.
“Thanks for keepin’ me company,” he says, realizing for the first time that Sakusa is actually way taller than he’d thought.
Sakusa hums. “You weren’t the worst guest. I guess.”
Atsumu laughs, revelling in how it feels like something he does with his whole body again rather than just a sound he can make. “I… so uh-” he bites at the inside of his cheek, thinking.
“Hm?”
“Like, say someone… hypothetically wanted to visit ya here. Would that be allowed, or-?”
Sakusa stiffens up, and Atsumu prepares to backtrack – of course, he’s an intruder here, unremovable by circumstance. Sakusa was just keeping track of him, protecting his friends, Atsumu shouldn’t expect to be welcomed–
But then Sakusa huffs, looking away, and says, “I guess… it’d be okay. There are a few humans we let come around as regulars. We’d need some photos of you. And it’d just be on a trial basis until we’re sure you’re not destroying the environment.”
“O-of course! I swear I won’t litter, at least. It was super gross to feel trash nearby as a shrub.”
Sakusa nods, finally meeting his eyes again. “You’d better not. I’ll have you thrown in the dumpster where we destroy all the shit humans bring around.”
Atsumu chuckles, too giddy to be insulted by the threat. Osamu calls him over so they can catch the next train back to town, and he jogs off with a wave to Sakusa and Komori.
It’s a win-win, he decides. He certainly won’t litter on the witch’s (or anyone’s) lawn anymore, and he might’ve found a new very cute snake friend.