Among the lengthy catalogue of strengths that
can be attributed to Haikyuu, something that I’d rank right at the top would be the quality
of the character writing. This cast has slowly but surely developed into one that is broad
and diverse, covering a wide range of personalities, each of which are proven to be even more interesting
and contributory when examined in the context of a high stakes sports match. Vulnerable,
insecure and doubtful players trying to work hard to find a place for themselves. Hungry,
self-assured and hardworking feats of nature, perseverence personified. Athletes seemingly
comprised solely of joy or expression, those who view the court as a place of pleasure,
passion, and maybe even escapism. But up until the Ballboy arc and Nationals, there had been
one traditional personality type that had been absent in the series - the wholeheartedly
confident, egoistic prodigy who demands respect for his skill. A personality that is very
common among real-life athletes, and often disliked by many. Even Oikawa, who is outwardly
confident and prideful a lot of the time, is burdened by insecurity and jealousy at
those he views as more special than him, and he himself admits that there are certain players
that can just do things he cannot. So there was no real ego-fueled, seemingly arrogant
character in the series for the other personalities to bounce off of. Until the introduction of
Miya Atsumu. Although of course, he is much more than that shallow archetype. The journey
of Atsumu is one of a young man who dreamed of reaching the peak of his craft and went
about this goal in a way distinct from any other character in the story. But it’s key
to note that the common thread among these characters is maintained - the idea of that
need to be on the court to feel good. To just play *one* more game to express oneself and
be free. That much is entirely unchanged, and that is significant. As children, Atsumu and his twin brother Osamu
were stuck into volleyball from the start. When looking at positions, Atsumu found that
he admired the setter the most, thinking that it was the coolest. His brother agreed and
was quite good at it, but never really had the insatiable yearning that Atsumu had to
have the strongest weapons at his disposal, all of them singing to his tune. According
to Aran, when the twins were young kids, what stuck out to him about them more than skill
or talent was their fighting spirit. Osamu seemed technically better at that age, but
while both were fighters that despised losing, Atsumu had a little something extra. An irrepressible
hunger.. something akin to that wild look that we see throughout the series in the eyes
of the pure volleyball idiots, the ones who feel like they need to keep playing just to
survive. That monstrous look. After picking up the setter position, Atsumu
never looked back and continued to improve. He grew exponentially, and got to the point
where he would give his teammates grief for not scoring from his great sets. Naturally,
this rubbed people the wrong way and his teammates began to resent him in a manner sort of similiar
on the surface to how Kageyama was disliked in middle school, though I must stress that
that is only the surface, and that the subtleties in this case were very different. You’d
think that any given kid would be hurt by this reaction, or that the thought of being
hated by others would leave some scars.. but none of that happened with Atsumu. He simply
continued on, improving and demanding, with no change to his behaviours. In reflection,
Aran would describe this unflinching focus and confidence, as well as his lack of concern
at being disliked by others, as “terrifying.” And Atsumu didn’t discriminate - he applied
this to his brother too, being a brutally harsh critic of him. In response, Osamu bit
back, calling him out as an equal and saying he’s out of line. He’d be sure to tell
him that no one is perfect, and he’s screwed up in the past too. He gave as much as he
got, and that was vital for pushing the both of them to progress, improve, and ground themselves
at least a little bit. The twins are noted to have been great for
each other, blessed, despite how much they fought. They pushed each other to be better
as rivals, and they reached unbelievable heights for their age. But eventually, everyone, especially
Osamu, began to notice.. that that fire and passion burned just a little brighter in Atsumu.
That Osamu just didn’t live and breathe and NEED volleyball in the same way his brother
did. Atsumu had something within him that couldn’t be satiated, a drive for success
and greatness unlike anyone else. It’s integrative with how Osamu notes that Atsumu’s mental
age drops when he’s in a game, displaying a child-like wonder, passion and again, that
hunger. And this purity that he imbues is indicative of how inseperable he is from the
sport. Skip forward to Nationals, and Atsumu turned
out as most predicted he would. He is widely touted to be the best setter of his age, and
one of the very best young players in Japan for a variety of reasons. As a result, he
is intensely prideful, he truly believes in himself, and while it seems from the outside
that he’s mellowed out and relaxed a bit possibly due to increased confidence, his
habits have not changed. However, this attitude of his isn’t mean-spirited
in intent.. for the most part. Because if you examine his psychology and if you put
yourself in his shoes, you can kind of see where he’s coming from. Atsumu has a supreme
aptitude for the sport and worked incredibly hard to optimize his skill and realize his
potential. As his captain has acknowledged, his dedication and hard work has turned him
into a phenomenal player. As such, he believes he deserves respect, and in fact he demands
it. When he says that anyone who can’t hit his spikes sucks, he doesn’t mean that he
thinks his spikers need to adjust to accommodate him, which is a key contrast between him and
middle school Kageyama. What he’s actually saying is that he has already factored in
the best toss for them and taken their needs into account, and he is dishing them what
they need. That’s why he needs his teammates to measure up - because he knows those tosses
are optimal. They push them to their limit, but they’re also individualized extremely
well. So if they can’t keep up with a toss that is perfectly tailored for their best
abilities, then they suck. It’s not that he puts tosses up carelessly and expects his
teamates to match them instead of the other way around. It’s the opposite - his sets
are crafted with utmost care. He has put everything into training so that he can toss the ideal
sets, so for him, his teammates not matching his dedication is disrespectful. Volleyball
is a team sport, and no one can do everything on their own, so the unfortunate reality in
some cases is that some players don’t end up getting the results that their graft deserves.
No one wants to think of time spent working hard as wasted for reasons out of their control.
In the finite amount of time we have, we want to believe that our efforts will be rewarded.
And that’s why his demands are so lavish. That can be extrapolated to why he wants the
best rivals, and why he hates playing against people who suck. Because after all the work
he’s put in, he wants opponents who are just as awesome to awaken that childlike exhiliration
in him. While the series never gives us the opportunity to see him express disdain over
inferior opposition, he expresses that anything less is not nearly worth his time after what
he continuously puts himself through to try and achieve greatness. Call it cockiness or
arrogance or whatever you’d like, but I think that he subconsciously and genuinely
believes it is due recompense, and he’s not entirely wrong. And it isn’t a malicious
arrogance - just one that loses its cool when it isn’t matched with the respect he believes
it deserves. While I find him very endearing despite his faults due in large part to his
sheer passion, this can understandable rub people the wrong way, and that’s just the
nature of a prideful athlete. But try to tell him that it’s unfounded. Egos and confidence
and arrogance are just a given when it comes to sport. And Atsumu is Haikyuu’s prevailing
example of an athlete at the height of his power, who knows it and demands others to
recognize it. And I can’t speak for everyone, but for me, this is a great bit of egoism
and an awesome dimension to add to the cast. In tandem with these demands, Atsumu is also
a penchant of theatrics and control. He loves the extremes and sounds and sights of sport,
and he wants to be at the center of it all. It’s a huge reason for why he does what
he does - he loves playing with an unbelievable fire, but being a conductor of a grand orchestra
- one consisting of the crowd, the boos and cheers, the pattern of play, the sets - he
loves that just as much. And it coalesces with his demands. That’s why he requests
silence for his serves. It isn’t being cruel or mean for the sake of it - he has gone through
a great deal to get where he was and he deserves to play on a stage that allows him to perform.
To play in optimal conditions. And those around him recognize his assets and adhere to them
in admiration, as the band and fans alter their approach depending on what he’s doing.
And in turn, he uses all that he has earned, every resource, to overpower the opponent
and honour the jersey he wears. Atsumu is very dramatic - He plays with flair
and extremes, and he loves being in control of these things and dictating spectacle - so
his personality fits his position like a glove more than nearly every other character in
the series, licking his lips at the possibility of having monster hitters singing to his tune.
But one difference between how he is now and how he was as a child is that he isn’t a
hypocrite at all, and likely due to Osamu laying into him as they grew up, he knows
that he isn’t infallible. If you’ll excuse a minor spoiler for a line of dialogue that
he provides later on in the series, he says the following in a future arc: “If I score,
hype me up. If I don’t score, lay into me. I don’t need no in-between participation
prize. Cheers or jeers. Gimme one or the other. Cuz that’s what I want to be surrounded
by.” There’s absolutely no mincing words, no half measures. Only greatness prevails
- he must do what he can to be the best, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. His stage
must be loud and boisterous and fitting, one way or another. And he and those around him
must live up to that. This is a point that I think is very admirable
about Atsumu, but that sometimes goes ignored - he 100% holds himself accountable. He expects
others to do everything they can, because he does everything he can. But if he fails,
he is aware of the ramifications himself and he doesn’t shy away from that, so he absolutely
puts himself through the ringer to not fail. And this is shown in moments after and during
the match against Karasuno. After the result, where he almost asks the crowd to criticize
him and his team for losing despite putting in an amazing effort. And in the game, when
he pains himself to adjust to a very awkward pass to set overhand to Osamu. Suna marvels
at his skill but wonders aloud why he didn’t just bump it underarm. And he replies that
overhand uses ten fingers to the two arms underhand. And this allows for more control,
appropriately, and more ability to support his spikers in the best way he can. No matter
how difficult, he does it because he wants to do the best he can for them, which in turn
gives his team the best chance of success. While the end goal does come down to his victory,
there is more nuance to it than that, and we see here that he isn’t actually selfish
as others tend to view him. He does literally all that he can to provide the best possible
set in any situation. He’s actually very supportive and he very much cares, going through
great lengths to provide for his teammates. And he only scolds them after he has done
everything he can for them and they still fail. He could use some communication lessons,
but his heart isn’t in the wrong place. I think he should be extremely grateful to
his brother for instilling this in him, because a self-awareness of one’s own flaws is what
helps one to grow as both a player and a person. And I think it’s a given that he would not
have been able to become this great without Osamu’s competition and insistence on giving
his brother a reality check. Atsumu isn’t a tunnel-visioned victory machine
only centered on success, though. He appreciates his teammates and very much fosters connections
with them, as shown through when he got emotional over Kita giving him food and wishing him
good health. In fact, Atsumu is so strikingly sentimental in the rare moments we see him
vulnerable that in my head canon, I view his philosophy when it comes to volleyball to
be something like an exchange of care and respect between teammates - and I think they
are interlinked in a way. As I mentioned, he’s a big advocate of effort being rewarded
- with respect, with effort in kind, with execution, with opponents, and with care.
It merges interestingly with Kita’s proclamation that we are built upon the small things we
do every day, and that the end results are a bi-product of that. Atsumu has done everything
he can in practice, and so he wants the end results to reflect that - so he gets angry
when they don’t. He is actually quite similar to his upperclassman through his focus on
preparation and routine, though not nearly eloquent enough to verbalize this in the way
Kita does, and more focused on those potential biproducts than Kita ever is - and it should
be noted that he also lives for the journey that Kita enjoys as well. So while his philosophy initially seems very
similar to a young Kageyama, it isn’t at all. Because whereas Kageyama just selfishly
tossed and expected his teammates to keep up with what he wanted to do without taking
them into account, Atsumu takes everything into account - his skill, the context of the
match, the specific situation, and of course, his team-mates needs and attributes. And only
if they fail after that does he lose his cool, because from his perspective, his extreme
care and diligence isn’t being rewarded. It’s actually entirely opposite from Kageyama’s
early desperate tunnel-vision. He’s petty and immature when things don’t go his way,
but that doesn’t mean he expects things to fall into his lap. What it really comes
down to is that he can’t stand the injustice of hard work not being rewarded. And I think
there’s something very resonant about that, a parallel with Oikawa in a sense. And this parallel is understandable primarily
because the two are kindred spirits in a sense, since Atsumu is also a poster child for that
idea of hunger. The hunger that his brother just didn’t seem to have for volleyball,
and the hunger that exudes from Hinata and Kageyama. And because of that, because of
what he does on the journey to satiating that hunger, he is often viewed as having been
born special, or talented. But as we noted in the very beginning, what was most notable
about Atsumu was his fighting spirit, his passion and desire, not his technique or game
sense. Those were aspects that he refined and polished through the years as he ground
himself to dust through his training as a result of his intangibles. And maybe he did
have a high potential for volleyball, maybe he was born for the sport in that romantic,
idealistic way - we have no real way of knowing, after all. But the point is that NONE of that
manifested in brilliant skill from the beginning, and his current skills were not achieved with
any semblance of ease. His path to the top was far from comfortable, and in fact, he
pushed himself and his boundaries further than the vast majority to reach this apex.
And in that sense, the real talent he had, that which truly made him a monster, was his
yearning and hunger, that need for volleyball synonymous with a need to breathe that only
a rare few possess. There are times where you see an athlete playing their sport and
see how naturally they do things and think to yourself that they were just gifted and
born for this. But the scary thing that is the reality in the vast majority of these
situations is that this instinct for the sport is something that has been worked on so much
that it gives the illusion of a blessing from the gods. Hinata’s arc is proof in and of
itself that this instinct can be obtained through proper and excruciating training - and
perhaps that ends up being the case for these prodigies more than we think. And all of Atsumu’s early life’s work
and desires come to fruition in Inarizaki’s first game at Nationals. His efforts are rewarded
in the Monster’s Banquet, the match of a lifetime against Karasuno, which slowly but
surely engaged him in a joyous manner, making him celebrate the simple fact that he was
able to play this beautiful game, teaching him how to proceed in the future to truly
become the best at this. This game is just a littany of passion, amazing moments, subconscious
and conscious philosophical realizations, and happiness for Atsumu, and it proved to
be something of a benchmark for his career and where he wanted to go from here. From how the sparks fly in a heated battle
with Hinata and Kageyama and how he resolved to take them down a peg to prevail in a battle
of monsters, to how he lost himself with joy in the fire and intensity of the game, being
pushed to his limit and having the time of his life. How he talked up Hinata’s hunger
and admitted to being able to relate to his fire, how he eventually realized that he should
just lose himself in the moment and be free in his jubilation to be playing such like-minded
and great opponents - which of course lead to him and his brother unluckily choosing
to use the incredibly high-risk high reward minus tempo quick against the one duo who
were aware of the volatility of that sort of reckless approach. With the match finished
and Karasuno’s victory secured, while feeling the burden of responsibility and the regret
of his loss, and while characteristically asking to be chewed out, deep down, Atsumu
knows that he’d do it all over again and go for that play every time. Because that’s
how you grow, how your experiences become ingrained in you and push you onwards. He
wouldn’t have it any other way, and the onus is on him at this point to keep developing,
keep growing and changing and learning. Because that’s the joy of sports, expression and
life. Spontaneity, evolution and liberation. The extremes that he so loves. To be good
is to be free, and although he laments his loss, he undoubtedly appreciates the sheer
freedom that his opponents allowed him to feel. And though the pain of defeat can be
difficult to endure, there’s always another chance to go again and experience it once
more. And all of this feeds into the Inarizaki motto, shown
on their banner. “Who needs memories?” or “We Don’t Need The Memories.” What
this is initially portrayed as through the abandon and unbelievable skill that characterizes
most of Inarizaki, and the Miya brothers in particular, is that all that matters is the
here and now. Atsumu lives for THIS moment - whether he’s training or playing, the
point is to make it count in some way, to allow yourself to have more moments to live
for in the future and to not rest on the achievements of yesterday. The point seems to be that you
can’t live off memories, so you must drive yourself forwards in the now with all you
have and forget the past. And this is very true to life when it comes to Atsumu, but
there is more depth to uncover that changes the complexion a bit. In particular, Kita’s words resonate here
- he notes during the match that he doesn’t like the phrase much because it seems to disregard
the importance of the past. Performing in the here and now is undoubtedly important,
but it is the result of the preparations made prior. We are the result of everything before
us, and pretending that experience hasn’t lead us to where we are today is just blatant
dishonesty and foolishness. It’s a perspective of maturity that Atsumu doesn’t yet consciously
acknowledge, even though a lot of his outlooks are actually ironically dependent on that
sort of mindset. But we grow from our trials and hurdles, and so with this loss, we see
that Atsumu will ingrain this experience as a memory to learn from, to seek higher planes
in the future. It will become a part of him. And this helps incorporate a new thematic
message and a new spin on the banner motto. It isn’t about being reckless and forgetting
the past, it’s about giving it your all and doing literally everything you can using
the experiences that are ingrained in your body. Don’t rest on your laurels and be
satisfied with your memories, but be open to learning from them and you will see their
beauty and value and how they have become a part of you in the present. And using that,
you find greater and greater heights of experience. And this is key, because he sure as hell would
never want to forget both the triumphs and mistakes of this match, and this concept is
particularly relevant in recontextualizing the final point they conceded as an encapsulation
of who Atsumu is. They lost primarily because he got caught up in fun and expression, and
came up against the block of two who had tried that in the past, failed, and learned from
their mistakes through not forgetting that memory, but ingraining the experience into
them. Atsumu and Osamu failed here, but like Hinata and Kageyama in their loss against
Seijoh, they had no fear of failure. No regrets. Just joy in the moment, and devastation at
the failure. But that devastation opens the path for growth, and a small comfort in this
that is characteristic of Atsumu is that he dictated this - both he and his brother. As
someone who always wants to be at the center, he must be prepared to take the responsibility
of the failures along with the glory of the successes. And he does. He controlled his
own destiny. He failed, and it’s up to him to own it , learn from this failure, not dwell
on it and ingrain it into him so that it becomes a part of him. As Osamu alludes to, we don’t
need the memories, because those memories have converted into muscle - they are an inherent
part of us. And with this approach in life, this motto turns from rash to incredibly balanced
and wise. Because there’s a big difference between not needing memories, and *forgetting*
what those memories mean to us. It’s a message that is extremely wise and inspiring when
applied to sports, but one of the most beautiful things about Haikyuu is that these little
tidbits of life advice that are presented to us through the characters can be used in
any walk of life, in any context. Now, if you’re an anime only, you may want
to close the video because in the remainder of it I will touch upon some spoilers from
after the Karasuno vs. Inarizaki match and later on in the series. So I’ll just give
you a few seconds to do so before continuing. I’ve said a ton about Atsumu, but an understated
element to him that I haven’t touched on yet is that in my opinion, like all of the
Monsters in the story, he does cut a little bit of a lonely figure in some ways. Because
his unbelievable fire, and his lack of caring that others detest him, and his unbelievably
high standards.. it alienates him in a sense. That’s why Osamu keeping up with him was
so important - because I think he may have lost himself without his brother. But he was
there with him, every step of the way to ground him and push him in all the right ways. Yet..
even that is insinuated to not have a chance to last forever, and it does in fact turn
out that way. Because Osamu just doesn’t have the same primal need that Atsumu has
for volleyball. Which means that their paths will split. Atsumu’s unbelievable drive
will carry him to the top, but it will also leave the 99.9% who don’t have that hunger
by the wayside and force him to walk alone eventually. But - I don’t mean to imply
that this is a huge theme or a driving idea of his character. It just adds a sad and resonant
tinge to him. He accepted this difficult path, and that’s why he doesn’t flinch at what
is required. But I don’t think he quite anticipated losing the most valuable constant
he had had in his life up until that point. I don’t think he ever really thought of
the possibility of having to walk this path without Osamu. The monster’s climb is lonely,
and losing the one person who was with you through everything is not something anyone
can ever be prepared to deal with. But that’s what happened. That’s life. Osamu simply
decided that he valued food more than volleyball. The fact is, the characters we follow that
make it to the top and have that drive are few and far between, and while sports are
an awesome hobby for tons of young people, it is rare to find anyone who actually has
the desire, ability and conviction to make a living out of it. And realizing that despite
loving the sport can be a really difficult thing. I can personally relate to Osamu, having
made a decision like he did myself at around the same age as he did. I’m sure he felt
awful in telling his brother about this, maybe feeling like he was abandoning him, and I
can’t imagine the anxiety that must have built up as he prepared to tell him this.
But in the end, they’re able to affirm their support for eachother in a appropriately immature
and contradictory way - through their little competition of comparing who will have lived
the more fulfilling life on their deathbed. Personally I hope that one ends in a tie. Everything about this experience all helped
Atsumu to mature and years later, he is able to see things from a more balanced perspective,
to incorporate his experiences and struggles to live in the now to his fullest. However,
while he has grown, I’m of the opinion that Miya Atsumu the person hasn’t changed all
that much. Of course losing Osamu as a partner was definitely impactful, but post-timeskip
I can’t say that I really see much of a personality shift overall. It’s something
that he deals with internally that I don’t think manifests in a different characterization.
He’s grown up and learned a ton, without a doubt. But on occasion I’ve seen some
say that he seems to have learned to control his hunger or keep it in check post-timeskip,
and while I understand it, I can’t help but disagree with that notion. I think where
he is now i s the natural end result of his unbridled yearning - I don’t think he has
his hunger in check or anything like that, I think he explodes with it. Not in a careless
way, but it’s not tempered either. I associate him with theatrics and extremes, and I think
the manifestation of his unbelievable hunger is productive as a natural result and because
of his experiences and memories, but I don’t think he bothers to control them much. To
me, controlling them doesn’t seem very “Atsumu.” Just the way I feel about it - I think that
if he were to change in a way that tempered his fire, that would betray the person he
is and the person that all those around him admire and root for. So I think by the end,
he’s accepted and embraced this lonely path - except he’s realized that even though
he may be on this journey without his brother, they still have each other in life and they
are fully capable of supporting one another. And I think this helps him unapologetically
carry himself forward with this same hunger, never betraying the drive that lead him here
in the first place. We all make choices in life and they all have
their swings and roundabouts, and Atsumu is having the time of his life playing volleyball
by the end. Despite the difficulties, he doesn’t regret it for a second, which is wonderful.
And the beautiful thing is that the path he blazed for himself to the top inevitably leads
him to other like-minded monsters with the same mentality and skill as him, so while
it may be bittersweet that he is destined to leave so much behind, the future he looks
towards is one full of promise, joy, theatre, new friends, and potential memories to ingrain
in himself once more. Many thanks for watching.
