Archive of Our Own

i. home plate

The batter steps near the home plate and settles into a batting stance. He hoists his bat in the air and fixes his eyes on the pitcher scowling at him. He bares his teeth and grins.

foul

A raspy groan escapes Kazuya as he lifts himself – or at least tries to – off the ground, his body sore and aching all over. The scorching heat of summer does nothing to soothe the stings crawling on his skin. He wipes the smeared blood on his lips with his shaky hands, squinting his eyes when his vision slowly clears, albeit a little. He hears the fading sounds of laughs and jeers, and Kazuya lets out a hollow laugh, his fingers twitching, knuckles bruised into an ugly purple.

He presses his hands on the ground, feeling the clumps of soil beneath him – firm, rock solid – and his palms burn when the swelling scratches touch the ground. But he calms himself down, endures the pain as he moves both his hands around, ignoring the painful friction when he hits pieces of twigs scattered around him. His glasses must be somewhere near where he's currently sitting. It won’t be hard to find it amidst the empty field.

Kazuya winces as he turns his body to the right, the sore bruise on his skin being pulled forcibly, but he doesn’t stop. His outstretched hand hits a hard object, glinting metal underneath the sunlight, and it’s his metal bat, but it’s not what he’s looking for. He presses his hand again on the ground, searching, feeling.

“Did it go farther than I thought?” he mutters in annoyance.

It takes him a few minutes until his hand bumps into glass – his glasses – but the frames are already shattered, the shards of glasses prickling his skin until red oozes out. Kazuya grits his teeth, bites his tongue hard to stop himself from screaming. His palms sting, tainted with blood and dirt, and he forces himself to stand up, staggering even, already hellbent on giving up the idea of seeing his surroundings clearly on his tiny lenses.

He wonders if he can go home at this state.

Kazuya tries his absolute best to walk back to his house, tripping and landing on the ground a few times when the wounds render his legs wobbly, and he has to stop with heavy breaths a few times when his legs burned from the sore, aching muscles. His schoolbag is slung above his shoulder, lighter when he throws away the extra papers and notebooks nestled inside. Kazuya lifts himself up again, walking in limps and staggering motions, lips swollen from the hardness of his teeth pressing on the soft skin.

“Hey!” a voice calls out behind him.

Kazuya turns around, eyes widening when he meets a pair of golden eyes staring at him with an odd glint – concern, but Kazuya doesn’t believe someone cares for him outside the four walls of his house – and he raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Kazuya stumbles when he accidentally steps on a lodged rock at the edge of the sidewalk. He mutters a string of incoherent words when he trips again, his bag tumbling down along with him. Wincing, he braces himself for the impending impact – but it doesn’t come and he finds himself engulfed by a warm body, and there’s a bright-eyed face leaning too close that he has to squint to see it clearly.

Kazuya finds his balance, albeit still shaky, and slowly pushes the boy away from him. He blinks his eyes a few times, rubbing them with his small fingers. Then, he looks again, at the boy whose cheeks are flushed, mouth opening and closing a few times, wanting to say something.

“What do you want?” he asks coldly.

The boy sputters incoherent words, shaking his head a few times, before he straightens up and points his finger at Kazuya. “I’m going to help you get back to your house!”

Kazuya frowns. “Huh?”

The boy steps forward and bows at Kazuya, a perfect ninety-degree bow, much to his amusement. “Sawamura Eijun at your service! You look so awful. You can’t reach your house at that state!”

Kazuya snorts and grabs his bag, flinching slightly as he slings it back to his shoulders. “I don’t need your help.”

“B-b-but…” Sawamura blocks his way out. “I’m taller than you, so I can definitely carry your bag and help you walk!”

“I said...” Kazuya sends him the angriest glare he can muster, a bit insulted at the implication that he’s small. “I don’t need your help.”

Sawamura seems unperturbed by his stunt, muttering a few words to himself, before grabbing the bag harshly away from Kazuya and hoisting it in his shoulder instead. He takes Kazuya’s right arm and places it on the lines of his shoulders, taking in Kazuya’s weight without difficulty. Kazuya’s stomach clenched from the thought that he’s weak – weak that someone has to carry him back to his house, weak that someone sees him at his worst – and he bites his lip before he can utter words, thistles and thorns that cut jagged across people’s chest, and that makes him the villain when he only utters honesty, pure honesty on what he sees and what he thinks.

“What’s your name?” demands Sawamura as they walk slowly on the deserted street.

“That’s none of your business.”

Sawamura grits his teeth. “Hey! I’m helping you right now. The least you can do is tell me your – “

“Miyuki Kazuya.”

“Eh?”

Kazuya glances at Sawamura and wonders how a kid like him has the most annoying and most likeable voice – loud, boisterous, expressive. He purses his lips and says, “I said, it’s Miyuki Kazuya.”

Kazuya flinches when he hears the loud voice cackle. “Miyuki Kazuya, huh? Then, Miyuki Kazuya, you’ll have to pay me back.”

“Huh? I don’t have money.”

Sawamura frowns and looks at him. “I’m not talking about money!” His eyes light up when he sees Kazuya’s dirtied uniform with a number scrawled across the back. He points at it with his left hand and asks, “What sport do you play?”

Kazuya stays silent, uninterested at the boy’s whims.

“I’m talking to you, Miyuki Kazuya!”

Kazuya sighs. “Baseball.”

“Really?! What position?”

“Catcher.”

Sawamura stops walking, freezes at the middle of the sidewalk, and turns his head towards Kazuya, his eyes widening. Kazuya watches as the boy turns red, jutting his bottom lip as he looks at Kazuya’s uniform, his face, and then back to his uniform again. The boy stays silent for a few seconds until –

“Catch for me!”

Kazuya gapes. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

Sawamura laughs, a grin stretching in his face. “I’m a pitcher, Miyuki Kazuya! You’ll pay for my kindness by catching my pitches.”

“No.”

“Hey! You’ll catch my pitches. You have to!”

“Too loud. And I won’t.”

But Kazuya finds himself a few weeks later, crouching on the home plate, eyes crinkling in delight as he almost fails to catch a pitch barreling towards his mitt, breaking before it even reaches the plate. He grins and throws the ball back. The boy on the mound receives it, eyes bright and mouth grinning.

ball

It takes a whole deal of patience for Kazuya to stop himself from snapping back whenever a loud voice screams near his ears, asking, demanding even, to play catch with him. But Kazuya can’t afford to do that, not when Sawamura isn’t even from his school, a year younger and still not yet in middle school. Their little league’s matches will start soon, and Kazuya can’t spend most of his time with Sawamura – though he refuses to admit that he prefers to spend it more with the loudmouth.

“Your pitches have no control,” he blurts out and throws the ball back.

Sawamura stiffly points a finger at him. “You jerk! You’re enjoying my pitches! You can’t fool me.”

Kazuya replaces the smile on his face with a smirk he knows will annoy Sawamura. “Who said anything about enjoying what?”

Sawamura huffs and glares at him. “You should feel lucky that you get to catch for me, four-eyed tanuki.”

Kazuya gapes in disbelief and shakes his head in amusement, peals of laughter flowing out of his mouth. “I’m the one sacrificing my time to catch for you, Sawamura. You’re the one that should feel lucky.”

“I’m not hearing anything,” says Sawamura, sticking his tongue out.

Kazuya stifles the laughter bubbling in his throat and signs at Sawamura to throw. He notices the way pitcher subconsciously grips the ball randomly in his long, thin fingers while he brushes the fingertips along the seams. Kazuya sees the way he side-glances at his left side, eyes flitting on the direction of the first base, before he throws. The continuous loud smacks on his mitt give Kazuya the comfort he needs – he’s a catcher and his partner is in front of him, throwing pitches and trusting that he’ll catch them.

A work of art between the pitcher and the catcher, Kazuya once has said when Sawamura asked him how he should pitch.

The mound and the home plate serve as Kazuya’s home, the place where he and Sawamura always meet – and even though he comes home every afternoon covered in bruises and cuts, nothing can dampen his spirits when someone walks with him on his way back home. And soon, he finds himself letting Sawamura inside his house, letting his loud noise fill the silence with music that Kazuya should’ve hated, but he ended up loving it instead.

“Your house is lonely,” says Sawamura, frowning as his eyes roam across the room.

Kazuya shrugs. “It can’t be helped. My dad is always at work.”

“How about your mom – “

“She’s gone. She’s dead,” deadpans Kazuya, but he feels a pang in his chest, clutching inside him and it makes it harder for him to breathe. Sawamura gasps, his eyes slowly turning misty, and Kazuya’s chest tightens when he sees a tear hit the soft skin. Kazuya leans forward to wipe the tears flowing on the pitcher’s cheeks. But as soon as his fingers touch the skin, Sawamura pulls him into a tight hug with a choked sob. Kazuya feels warmth spread inside his chest and across his face – his heart stuttering in erratic pulses. He hugs Sawamura back, his arms shaking as he bites his lip to stop himself from letting out a sob.

Kazuya slowly pulls away, his eyes averting towards the ground. “I’ll get us some tea.”

“Okay.”

Kazuya almost drops the tea kettle when he pours it into two small cups lined in a tray, his fingers trembling slightly. He attempts to compose himself, rubbing his eyes and slapping his face lightly, and he grabs a few slices of bread across the counter, placing them neatly on a silver plate. Kazuya makes sure to put a lot of butter on Sawamura’s – he remembers the day where the pitcher is complaining about his lack of butter whenever his mother makes toast. He tosses a few packets of candies and a small bag of chocolate chip cookies inside the tray – a part of him hopes Sawamura will enjoy the cookies, but he won’t dare tell the pitcher that he made it for him.

“Ohhhh, all of this look delicious!” exclaims Sawamura, grinning as he picks up one of the cookies and takes a bite.

Kazuya is relieved that the boy has already stopped crying, though his cheeks remained tear-stained and red. He pushes his glasses up and scratches the back of his neck. “You can take some home if you want. I have extras.”

“I will!” Sawamura moans in delight. “They’re so yummy.”

At the back of his mind, the name Sawamura Eijun etches itself beside the word bestfriend – but Kazuya doesn’t say anything.

strike

Kazuya wakes up on his birthday to silence.

It isn’t really a new thing for him – he isn’t used to getting birthday parties. His father, at best, gives him a small gift and a cake to eat, and that’s enough for Kazuya. No one really greets him besides some of his neighbors who are mostly elders too attached to small kids. Maybe once Kazuya grows taller and bigger, they’ll soon forget his birthday too.

But somehow, this day seems different than all the birthdays he has ever celebrated.

There’s no class today, a lucky occurrence of birthdays falling on a weekend which means Kazuya has to spend his birthday watching baseball games of their opponents and sleeping. He takes his time in doing the household chores, imagining the soothing scent of coffee he will drink later after he finishes everything. He’s about to reach for the mug on their wooden cupboard when knocks sounds – no, bombards – on their front door.

Kazuya glares at it for a few seconds, wishing that the knocks will just stop – but it doesn’t. He sighs exasperatedly, preparing to scold whoever is bothering him at this time of day, but as soon as he opens the door, he’s met with a small body, albeit a bit taller than him, lunging at him. Kazuya grunts as he fell on the floor, legs tangled with the other.

“Sawamura, get off me,” he grumbles.

Sawamura pushes himself off the floor with a wide grin. “Miyuki Kazuya!” He points at Kazuya, eyes shining. “It’s your birthday today, so I will celebrate with you!”

Kazuya sighs again, biting his cheeks to prevent the smile threatening to form on his face. “And you want my birthday to become such a chore? You know you’re a handful, right?”

Sawamura puffs his cheeks, crossing his arms. “I’ll have you know, Miyuki Kazuya, that I’m a good companion and friend, so I’ll make sure to make your birthday the best birthday ever! So, let’s go out and I’ll let you catch my pitches!”

Kazuya gapes then snorts in amusement. A smirk appears on his face, hiding the strange sensation filling his stomach and chest. “You want me to catch your pitches? Seriously? It’s my birthday, you know.”

“Hey! I know you enjoy catching for me, jerk!”

“Wow, it’s my birthday and I get called a jerk.”

Sawamura pouts. “That can’t be helped. You’re always a jerk!”

Kazuya ruffles the boy’s hair, begrudgingly ignoring the fact that he’s actually the smaller one, before turning his back and making his way back to the kitchen. The Miyuki household has become one of the loudest households in their neighborhood after Sawamura’s almost daily visits. Kazuya shakes his head – of course, he won’t be alone today.

“So, are we going to bake a cake?”

Kazuya frowns. “I still don’t know how to bake a cake.”

Sawamura scratches his head and starts muttering to himself. Kazuya bites his bottom lip, the word ‘cute’ almost at the tip of his tongue, refusing to acknowledge that he finds that habit endearing. He settles on making himself a mug of coffee instead, waiting for the pitcher to start speaking.

“How about a cupcake?” Sawamura grins, his eyes crinkling in excitement. Kazuya wants to pinch his cheeks that his fingers start fidgeting. Reminding himself that this is not how he should think and act, Kazuya averts his eyes on the table instead. “We could totally make one since it’s small!”

“I’m not sure – “

“Please,” says Sawamura, staring with his pleading eyes that Kazuya knows he can’t resist.

“Fine,” he replies, rolling his eyes at Sawamura’s smug face.

Kazuya almost gags as he swallows the cupcake. It’s too sweet for his tongue – he really shouldn’t have followed the recipe book. But one look at Sawamura’s elated face makes him relent, and he soon finds himself actually happy that he didn’t change the recipe even though the taste in his tongue says otherwise.

Weeks turn into months of spending time to hang out inside his house, and soon, Kazuya starts spending some of his time on Sawamura’s house too. His family is too unconventional for Kazuya to get used to, but he’s very grateful that he isn’t treated differently despite his awkward demeanor. He isn’t used to being doted and cared for – Sawamura’s mother has scolded him once for cooking his own lunch instead of waiting for her to cook it. But somehow, Kazuya starts to get used to the way Sawamura’s mother tell him stories about their family, or the way his dad sprawls in the living room as he makes Kazuya listen to his music, or the way his grandpa challenges Kazuya to a game of shogi.

Kazuya isn’t surprised anymore when a barrage of knocks attacks their front door on the early morning of Christmas.

“Merry Christmas, Miyuki Kazuya!”

Kazuya finds himself again pushed down to the floor with Sawamura hugging him tightly. He laughs in amusement, pushing the body off of him, and stands up. Brushing off the dirt from his clothes, he faces the pitcher and grins. “Merry Christmas, Eijun!”

Sawamura freezes, eyes widening at Kazuya in disbelief. He stays silent for a few seconds and a bright smile suddenly forms on his face. “You called me by my first name.”

Kazuya turns his back away from him, wrestling a soft smile itching to let itself out. “So? Does that bother you?”

“No! I like it! I like the way you say my name.”

Kazuya feels his face warm. “You’re so shameless.”

“Hey! I’m just telling the truth!”

Kazuya picks up the small wrapped gift he carefully prepared a few days ago. He knows Sawamura likes a lot of things – he will probably appreciate everything Kazuya gives him even if the latter just chooses the gift randomly. But Kazuya cares, a lot even, and he doesn’t want to give a gift half-heartedly to the first friend he has ever made – even if it has taken him months before he admitted it.

“Here.” Kazuya hands Sawamura the gift, his hands trembling slightly. He hopes the pitcher will like it. Sawamura’s face lights up as he grabs the gift carelessly, almost dropping it on the floor. Kazuya laughs and teases him, liking the way Sawamura points at him with his face red and his lips downturned into a pout.

Sawamura laughs when he sees what’s inside. “It’s a pitcher’s glove! And what is this? No way! Did you make this?”

Kazuya flushes, turning his head away. “Yeah.”

“I love it so much!” Sawamura throws himself to Kazuya, embracing him so tightly. Kazuya thinks his head is about to go haywire, his heart pounding so loudly that he’s about to burst. “Thank you for giving me an album with our pictures! I’m going to treasure it a lot!”

Kazuya coughs and clears his throat. “You can let go of me now.”

Sawamura pulls away, still looking all over the moon. He stares at Kazuya for a few moments before his face crumples into a look that clenches on Kazuya’s chest tightly. “I didn’t bring you a gift.”

Kazuya sighs in relief. “I thought something bad happened. Don’t make that face, alright? I don’t really mind.”

“You can catch – “

“No catching of pitches.” Kazuya makes a face. “It’s too cold, idiot.”

“Then – “

“Your presence is already a gift anyway,” mutters Kazuya.

“Huh?!”

“Nothing. I said, let’s go to the kitchen! I’m making a snack!”

Kazuya grins as he starts cutting the vegetables at the table, teasing the pitcher about his non-existent kitchen skills. Sawamura yells angrily at him, challenging him to a cooking showdown. Kazuya just lets the boy have his way today – it’s Christmas and he doesn’t want to make the pitcher sulk.

“Alright, alright. Settle down or you’ll destroy the table with your fists.”

“I’m not that big, you jerk!”

Kazuya gets to revel in a few minutes of silence with the loudmouth muttering something to himself again.

“Oi, Miyuki Kazuya!”

Kazuya raises an eyebrow. “What?”

Sawamura exhales loudly, steeling his gaze determinedly towards Kazuya. “C-c-can I call you by your first name too?”

Kazuya stops his hand, looking at Sawamura in surprise. “You’re asking permission? For that?”

“Well…” Sawamura fidgets with his hands and averts his eyes on the table. “I don’t want you to get angry if I suddenly do that without you allowing me!”

Kazuya laughs in amusement. “Are you seriously asking me for permission? Most people call me Kazuya, brat.”

Sawamura juts his bottom lip. “Meanie.” He looks at Kazuya again and narrows his eyes. “I’ll never ask for your permission again next time, K-K-Kazuya!”

Kazuya bares his teeth at him, a smirk playing on his lips, making Sawamura sputter angrily at him again. He really can’t resist teasing the pitcher no matter what. But Kazuya’s heart skips a beat though he doesn’t know why, and even though he doesn’t want to admit it, he loves the sound of his name in Sawamura’s voice and wants to hear him say it again.

Sawamura is right. He’s really the best companion Kazuya has ever had.

ball

The clock strikes twelve, the scorching sun reaches its peak, and Kazuya doesn’t cry when a year later, the Sawamura family’s name plate disappears on the wall of an old house near his school. He walks his way back to his house, knuckles bruised, lip covered in blood and small cuts, but he’s alone, and there are no traces of bright smiles and loud voices beside him. Kazuya enters the house and places his bag on the floor. His gaze falls on a small frame, bright golden eyes staring at him with small hands pumped into fists – and he sees himself smiling next to the boy.

The floor below darkens, catching strays of falling dewdrops until it flows like a stream and doesn’t stop, doesn’t stop until the wetness dries and there’s no more left to spill.

The world moves on and Kazuya’s second year in middle school starts.

foul

Kazuya yawns and stretches his arms, his eyes squinting as he watches the batters swing in practice. The fields are hotter and louder – voices shouting as the metal bats hit the balls and loud clangs echo across, drowning the silence Kazuya wishes to have at the moment. He feels a small inkling that tugs inside his chest when he sees Rei walking at the side, but she’s alone and Kazuya can’t help but think something’s missing, that something, someone should’ve been walking next to her.

“Kawakami, do you want me to take you back to your mother’s womb?” Azuma growls and hoists his bat, eyes narrowed. “Your pitches are too easy to hit. I’m not even sweating!”

Kazuya rolls his eyes. “There he goes again.”

But there’s really something missing because Kazuya swears somewhere out there, in the fields, a loud voice, familiar and warm, is roaring and yelling, and he also hears eleven loud smacks inside a mitt. Kazuya sighs, rubbing his eyes and fixing his sports glasses, before he steps out of the field, the heavy feeling disappearing as he walks away from the loud noise.

Maybe he’s just imagining things.

ball

There’s a runner on first and third, and Nagano’s current pitcher is shaking on the mound. Kazuya sees the ace number on that pitcher’s uniform and frowns. The boy looks terrified, eyes hollow and lips pursed. Kuramochi shifts beside him, tapping his shoulder.

“You think the Nagano team can take back the runs they gave?”

Kazuya shrugs. “Maybe. But if their pitcher self-destructs on the mound, they’re done for.”

Kuramochi sighs and placed his hands on the back of his head. “I can’t believe we’re finally at Koshien on our third year.”

“Seidou is not that weak, Kuramochi.”

Kazuya brings his gaze back on the pitcher, the poor boy trembling as he talks to his catcher. He wonders if the Yamamori twins can stop this team from scoring back – when the team is full of consistent hitters. But Kazuya wonders more if the pitcher from Nagano can still stay calm on the mound.

Nagano loses another run.

Kazuya yawns and slouches in his seat, arms crossed and eyes bored. There’s no doubt that Nagano will lose this match. As he settles on observing their plays, with Nabe behind him taking down notes, Kazuya is brought out of his stupor when a pitcher change is called on the speakers.

“Pitcher, Sawamura-kun! Batting ninth, pitcher, Sawamura-kun!”

Kazuya blinks his eyes for a few seconds until his gaze lands on the new boy taking his place on the mound, his eyes glowing brightly against the sun. A large grin spreads on the boy’s face, and he shouts, “Balls will be flying, so fielders, please take care of me!”

It’s the way he grins as he raises his right leg, and the way his voice echoes so loudly in the stadium, and the way his eyes flash with the same fiery gaze Kazuya has seen years ago. There’s no doubt – this pitcher is Sawamura Eijun. Kazuya’s fingers twitch, his hand shaking slightly, and he leans forward, his eyes observing the way his childhood friend pitches, striking batters out with ease.

Kazuya’s mouth forms into a wild grin.

He badly wants to catch those pitches. Or hit them, hit them long and deep into a home run. It doesn’t matter which – Kazuya’s not that picky anymore, not when he finally sees him after years of unfilled gaps and spaces he left.

Sawamura strikes out every batter.

His team scores the lost runs back persistently.

Nagano wins.

“Looks like they’re our opponent in the next round,” says Nabe thoughtfully.

Kazuya laughs. “I can’t wait.”

full count

It’s the last inning and Kazuya’s last at-bat. They’re up by two runs and Sawamura is still on the mound. Kazuya hasn’t hit his pitches yet, the left arm whipping in this crazy unique form and Kazuya can’t see how or where and when the ball will be thrown. It sends a rush of excitement, an adrenaline rush, inside his chest.

He hoists the bat on his shoulder and bows at the umpire.

Then, he fixes himself into his batting stance.

Kazuya knows Sawamura recognizes him by the glint in his eyes and the way he mouths ‘we’ll talk later’ before he focuses back on the catcher’s mitt. The catcher isn’t as aggressive as Kazuya is, but the pitches are enough to throw them off, though he’s glad that Kominato got two hits and a home run out of Sawamura’s pitches. Kazuya wants to hit those pitches. Sawamura doesn’t let him.

Kazuya’s bat dangles awkwardly in his arms, swinging but hitting nothing. The last strike reverberates around the stadium and Sawamura pumps his fist in the air, sticking his tongue out at Kazuya. Kazuya rolls his eyes and smirks back at him, blood roaring in his ears as he made his way back to the dugout.

Seidou High wins the match. But Kazuya can’t forget the fact that he didn’t hit any pitch Sawamura threw.

hit

“You just watch, Miyuki Kazuya! I’ll be chasing you in the pro leagues! You’ll see me again!”

“Eh? Strong enough to match your big head, Sawamura?”

“UGH! I’ll strike you out again, jerk!”

ii. first base

The batter is stuck at full count, his eyes trailing on the pitcher’s intense gaze and the way his pitches break on the plate. The pitcher raises his right leg and whips his left arm on the catcher’s mitt. The pitch barrels towards the home plate, whizzing and roaring. The batter positions himself and swings his bat. A clang reverberates inside the field, with the ball hurling above the shortstop and into the outfield. The batter smirks at the pitcher as he runs towards the first base. The pitcher scrunches his nose and glares at him while the umpire yells, “Safe!”

lead

There’s a runner on third and the cleanup is up to bat.

Kazuya looks at the batter and takes in the stance. He looks tensed – more tense than Kazuya expected him to be – and the hold on the bat is tight. Kazuya takes his gaze back at Hongou, takes in his angry eyes looking at him. Biting his cheek to stop himself from laughing, he places his mitt on the inside, tilting his head at Hongou challengingly. Can you strike this batter out?

Kazuya is lucky that Hongou Masamune is even easier to rile up than Furuya Satoru. The pitcher functions through his channeled anger, always performing his best when his blood is boiling on the mound. Kazuya reckons it’s because he’s a power pitcher, and his anger makes his body move even better when he pitches.

Hongou’s glare intensifies as he raises his left leg and throws.

Kazuya grins in satisfaction when he hears the loud sound crackling on his mitt.

“Strike!” the umpire yells.

Today is an important game between their team and Chunichi Dragons. Kazuya doesn’t want to miss the chance to gloat the win to Kuramochi – he’s a bit salty that the shortstop didn’t join him at the same team (though he’ll never admit that). Sending a smirk at Kuramochi who glares at him from third base and retaliates by taking a big lead, Kazuya places his mitt on the inside once again and signs.

The cleanup batter hits the pitch with a loud clang.

“Foul!”

Kazuya sighs and looks at Hongou on the mound. The pitcher’s gaze is still intense and he looks even more riled up by the hit on his pitch. Kazuya wants to call for an outside pitch, but he doesn’t miss the wild glint on those eyes – and so, he settles on calling for something even deadlier.

Kazuya punches on his mitt and signs.

Hongou raises his left leg, eyes flaring defiantly, and throws ferociously.

The cleanup batter swings into air as the ball breaks away and hits Kazuya’s mitt squarely in the center. Hongou’s pitches are gaining even more control lately. Kazuya stands up from the catcher’s box with a huge grin on his face.

“Game set. Yakult Swallows wins.”

After the game ends, Kazuya takes off his catcher’s gear with the help of their team’s relief pitcher, Ouno Shintarou. Hongou ignores him, much to his irritation. Kazuya promises to deal with that bratty pitcher tomorrow. Maybe a few extra runs would do – he’ll have to ask their captain about that. Sighing in contentment, he tries to imagine the way Kuramochi’s eyebrows would scrunch up in distaste once he meets him again to make himself feel better.

“Miyuki, are you coming to the party later?”

Kazuya wrinkles his nose and shakes his head. “Not really.”

Ouno raises an eyebrow. “You always skip parties. Why?”

“Heh. I won’t die from not having any social interactions.”

Hongou grunts. “I won’t be going either.”

“Looks like the main battery is always MIA.” Their left fielder smirks at Kazuya’s direction. “Don’t tell me you’re both dating someone and you can’t wait to meet them later?”

Kazuya snorts. “As if.” He sends a taunting grin at the left fielder. “Maybe you’re just projecting your obsession on romance.”

The left fielder flashes him his middle finger. “Fuck off, Miyuki.”

Kazuya laughs in amusement and bows mockingly before making his way out of the locker room. He isn’t as close to his teammates now compared to his teammates in Seidou High, but he’s not really complaining. As long as he can play baseball and have fun, that’s already enough for him.

The Yakult Swallows loses the next round a few days later, thanks to the sharp cutter Narumiya sends their way. Kazuya and their cleanup batter can hit the pitch deep, but their other teammates suffer miserably on making contact with the pitch. Unable to prevent some of the runs from Ouno’s weaker pitches, Kazuya settles on riling Narumiya after the game, making sure to send a few painful jabs his way before making his way back to the dugout. Call him petty but he’s just really frustrated.

Refusing to mope alone, Kazuya rings his phone thirteen times until Kuramochi finally picks up, muttering a string of curses at him. He forces the shortstop to accompany him at his apartment – he knows Kuramochi has two days off before they start training again for the next season.

“You didn’t have to bombard my phone with so many calls in the middle of a video game tournament, asshole!” yells Kuramochi as he plops himself down on one of the chairs, sending Kazuya a threatening scowl.

Unperturbed, Kazuya just grins back and hands him a video game controller. “Just play here by yourself. I’ll make us dinner.”

Kuramochi scoffs. “You should pay me for dealing with your shit next time.”

Kazuya whips up some egg omelette and fried rice for dinner. He’s short of a few ingredients to make some soup, but he’s too lazy to make a trip to the grocery store near his apartment, so Kuramochi would just have to deal with a mediocre breakfast-like dinner for now. It’s been a habit already – whenever Yakult Swallows loses an important game, he calls Kuramochi to accompany him, much to the shortstop’s chagrin.

“Dig in,” says Kazuya, picking up his chopsticks.

“Itadakimasu.”

Kazuya takes a bite off his omelette. “Mei’s cutter is really sharp. Not that I can’t hit it since that brat isn’t better than me. But the other batters in our team had a hard time making contact.”

Kuramochi snorts. “You can’t really blame them. Your team is not exactly known for power hitters. Your pitchers, however, are strong.”

“Yeah, so strong that Ouno broke down on the mound and gave off two runs,” grumbles Kazuya. “Not that I’m any better. I should’ve asked for a pitcher change.”

“Eh, it sucks, man.” Kuramochi gulps down a glass of water. “Anyway, have you heard about the champions of Summer Koshien?”

Kazuya raises an eyebrow curiously. “What about it?”

Kuramochi cackles. “You wouldn’t believe it. Remember the team of that disrespectful second year childhood friend of yours? They won the finals.”

“Really?” Kazuya feigns disinterest even though a small bit of excitement pumps inside his veins. “So?”

“You can’t fool me.” Kuramochi pointed a finger at him. “I know you’ve been excited to hit his pitches ever since he struck you out! And he’s the ace when they won, mind you. You reckon he’s gonna join the pro leagues next year?”

Kazuya shrugs. “Who knows. We don’t exactly keep in touch.”

“I bet that kid will be so hotblooded to form a battery with you.”

Kazuya shakes his head and grins. “I doubt it. With the way he told me off last year, I think he’d rather defeat me with his pitches.”

“Ha! Looks like next year’s gonna be fun.”

Kazuya stays silent, mulling over the thoughts of Sawamura Eijun playing in the pro leagues. Their pitchers are already strong – Kazuya can’t deny that – and they need more batters than pitchers, so, realistically, he doesn’t expect their coach to pick a pitcher in the draft. If anything, he can see their coach eyeing his former teammate Kominato Haruichi and Todoroki Raichi. Kazuya can’t deny how much he wants to catch for his childhood friend – but somehow, it’s also really tempting to watch himself hit a home run off those pitches. Kazuya’s already fired up from seeing those beautiful pitches soar into the backboard or into the stands in his mind.

Kazuya can’t wait for next year.

Teammates or enemies, he’ll have fun dealing with Sawamura Eijun.

steal

Mima Soichiro is on second base.

Kazuya would have preferred another runner on base but fate seems to have not heard his prayers. Huffing, he glances at the next batter and takes in the stance. This batter looks relaxed and focused. It’ll be hard to get him out.

Kazuya turns his gaze back on the mound. Ouno seems to be holding up well – he’s more used to being under pressure now, despite being pressured on base by his former high school teammate. Maybe having Mima on base instead of Carlos couldn’t be so bad after all.

Kazuya signs and places his mitt on the outside corner.

Ouno raises his left leg and throws.

“Strike!”

It takes them seven more pitches – the batter likes to foul the inside strikes – before they strike the batter out. Kazuya stands up and prepares himself for his at-bat, taking off his catcher’s gear as he peers on the mound. The announcer yells a pitcher change and Kazuya can’t help but grin when he hears the name of the relief pitcher.

“I wonder how good he is right now,” he mutters.

Kazuya takes his place on the batter’s box and bows to the umpire. He hoists his bat and smirks at the pitcher on the mound. Sawamura looks at him and sticks his tongue out, making him snicker in amusement. Kazuya tilts his head challengingly, tightening the hold on his bat. The pitcher makes a face at him before focusing on his catcher.

Kazuya observes the pitching form in fascination, the way the arm disappears before the pitcher throws, the way the ball breaks when it hurls towards him.

“Strike!”

“You’re having a fun time catching for him,” says Kazuya as he looks at the catcher, recognizing him as Mei’s former battery partner.

Tadano forms a small smile. “Sawamura-kun is a force to be reckoned with.”

Kazuya grins. “Can’t argue with that. I’ll have fun with him next season.”

Sawamura’s pitches are really hard to hit, even harder than last time. Kazuya purses his lips as he fouls off the sharp cutter that broke once it reached the plate. He sighs in relief and focuses on the next pitch. Sawamura bares his teeth at him, frustrated at the way Kazuya keeps fighting to be on base.

“Ball!”

At the back of Kazuya’s mind, he starts to wonder what would it feel like to catch for Sawamura Eijun. He only remembers small bits of memories in his childhood – but Sawamura’s pitches are different now. Shaking his head, he blinks a few times and focuses his gaze back on the mound. It’s full count now and Kazuya needs to just foul a strike or let go of a ball to get on base.

Kazuya’s breath hitches when the ball hurls towards him, alive and intense as if it’s saying ‘look at me’ all over again.

“Ball!”

Kazuya grins mockingly at Sawamura, earning a fierce glare from the pitcher as he makes his way to first base. It’s the first time someone has fought off the pitcher like that, but Kazuya thinks that this might be the last time Sawamura will let someone get on base. Soon, Kazuya’s teammates can’t get one base from jams and grounders. Shaking his head in amusement, Kazuya makes his way back to dugout for the next inning.

And on his last at-bat, Kazuya strikes out.

But he can’t even glare even when Sawamura sends him a smug grin from the mound. Deep inside Kazuya, a strange warmth is forming – and he can’t wait to play with Sawamura’s team again and wipe off that smug grin off his face. As much as he’d like to catch for the pitcher, Kazuya thinks that maybe challenging him can be just as fun.

While he grabs the pitcher’s hands tightly and shakes it, Kazuya can’t help but wish for the next season to come sooner. He has a pitcher to defeat.

safe

“You’re the worst, Miyuki Kazuya! I can’t believe I was friends with you!”

Kazuya snickers and puts his arm around the pitcher’s shoulders, leaning into his ears before whispering, “You’re the one asking me to go with you to Nagano so you better deal with it.”

Sawamura makes a face and wiggles his way out of him, distancing himself and pointing his finger shakily. “I’m only doing that because Mom asked me to!”

Kazuya bares his teeth, stifling a laugh – he keeps silent even if both of them know that it’s Sawamura’s idea to ask him to go. A familiar warmth spreads across his chest, causing him to cough and clear his throat.

“When are we leaving anyway?” he asks curiously.

Sawamura huffs and crosses his arms. “Next week, Miyuki, so you better be ready or I’ll drag you there unprepared whether you like it or not.”

Kazuya snorts. “Don’t be a brat.”

“I’m not going to act friends with the enemy!”

“Hahaha! Glad to know you love me, Sawamura.”

Kazuya smirks in glee when he sees the pitcher turn red from irritation. Ignoring his friend’s protests, he grabs the pitcher’s arm tightly and pulls him as he walks outside the stadium and into the nearest ramen shop that he likes to spend his time at. Bells ring when Kazuya opens the door, stepping inside. Sawamura gasps in awe beside him, his gaze roaming at the rustic feel of the wooden designs carved across the walls.

“Where are we?”

Kazuya grins and sits on the nearest table, gesturing at Sawamura to sit on the other side. The pitcher follows, sitting himself while he looks at the customers chatting as they eat their food.

“It’s my comfort place.” Kazuya picks up the menu and reads the contents. “I like eating here after a game.”

Sawamura glances at him oddly. “You don’t attend your team’s parties?”

Kazuya shrugs. “They’re boring and a waste of time.”

Sawamura glowers at him. “Huh?! This is why you don’t have friends, Miyuki Kazuya! Don’t you know how important it is to attend these parties to build team spirit – “

Kazuya waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, all that crap about team camaraderie when my teammates already dislike my personality. It’s all shit. Now, can you just choose your order so we can eat?”

Sawamura just his bottom lip and huffs, yanking the menu from Kazuya’s hands and inspecting it with annoyance written all over his face. Kazuya watches in amusement as the pitcher taps his fingers impatiently on the table, muttering incoherent words like a kid. It somehow takes him back to their childhood selves, with Sawamura sulking in the corner, muttering insults about him while he watches his friend at the corner of his eye instead of paying attention to the baseball game he’s watching at their television. A part of Kazuya misses those days – it’s the first time he didn’t feel lonely after his mother passed away and his dad started spending less time with him.

“What is this?!” Sawamura yells. “They have karaage ramen here?!”

Kazuya laughs. “It’s surprising, right?”

“This is so cool!” exclaims Sawamura, his body shaking excitedly. “Mima-senpai told me that ramen is famous in Gunma. How did you even find this shop?”

Kazuya grins, preening. “I’m not dumb unlike some people out there so…”

Sawamura mimes slashing his neck, causing Kazuya to burst into laughter. “Anyway, I want to taste this because I haven’t tasted it before.”

The two of them orders the ramen, talking to each other about the next season’s players on their opponent teams while they wait for their orders to arrive. Kazuya nods his head to the pitcher’s animated story about his team almost losing to Kuramochi’s team and how they’ve acquired Mukai Taiyou, a pitcher that Kazuya knows with distaste on his mouth. The pitcher Sawamura speaks of is arrogance gone wrong on Kazuya’s mind and he has no time to deal with those kinds of players. At least Hongou has enough humility to accept when he’s the one in the wrong.

At last, their orders arrive and Sawamura expresses gregariously how the taste of the ramen seeps into his taste buds, filling it with a light sweetness and a touch of citrus. Kazuya looks surprised – he has not expected the pitcher to be well-versed in food. All he remembers is how bad Sawamura was at cooking.

“You don’t have to be good at cooking to be good at describing food,” protests Sawamura when Kazuya prods at his lack of cooking skill.

The day ends with Kazuya flicking the pitcher’s forehead when he demands for him to catch his pitches, chastising him for being careless and offering the enemy even more information. Sawamura yells at him challengingly, lecturing him that it doesn’t matter if Kazuya catches his pitches – he’ll still strike Kazuya out.

“You’re getting a big head,” comments Kazuya, a snarky grin on his face.

The next days are filled with nothing but boredom. Kazuya yawns and stretches his arms, plopping down at his sofa as he watches the news with lack of interest. He debates on disturbing the loudmouth with a barrage of useless texts, but sighs and ends up sleeping on the couch instead.

His boredom only disappears when the date of their trip to Nagano arrives.

swing

“Ei-chan missed you, you know,” says Sawamura’s mother on his last evening before they leave and go back to their team’s trainings.

Kazuya bites his lip and forces a chuckle. “I’ll be really disappointed if he didn’t.”

She laughs in amusement. “Oh, he really did. He complained about going back to Tokyo for some time before he finally accepted. He tried sending you a letter, but he doesn’t remember your address. You come to our house often, but we’ve never been to yours.”

“I’m…” Kazuya gulps and scratches the back of his neck. “I’m just glad he didn’t stop playing baseball.”

Sawamura’s mother looks at him knowingly. “He wouldn’t. He said he has a catcher to catch up to and meet when he becomes the best.”

Kazuya snorts. “He keeps on trying to surpass everyone’s expectations of him. It’s refreshing to see a player like that on the field. I wish I could’ve caught his pitches for him, but I think I’m enjoying the challenge of hitting them off the field.”

“You seem happy, Kazuya-kun. I’m glad you and Ei-chan are close again.”

So am I, remains unsaid at the tip of Kazuya’s tongue while he mulls over the conversation once Sawamura’s mother leaves. Kazuya is glad to hear, relieved even, that his friend has missed him – he might never admit this to the pitcher in person, but Kazuya extremely missed his childhood friend. It’s the first time Kazuya has cried for someone other than his mother’s death, and he desperately doesn’t want to experience that again this time around.

“Oi, Miyuki Kazuya!” Sawamura waves his hand at his face, scrunching his eyebrows. “Why are you staring blankly at the wall?”

Kazuya blinks and returns back to his normal state. He lifts the corners of his mouth into a grin and says, “Don’t you have to wash the dishes? Are you here to escape your duties, Sawamura?”

Sawamura turns cat-eyed, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “I already did that, you jerk! You’re the one here who’s doing nothing.”

“I helped cook the dinner you ate, Sawamura.” Kazuya tilts his head, gazing teasingly. “I vaguely remember someone eating three plates of food, gobbling up everything I cooked in just a few minutes.”

Sawamura sputters, cheeks flushing crimson. He huffs and turns his back dramatically, yelling curses at Kazuya who throws his head back, laughing. The door slams shut, echoing inside the room, leaving Kazuya to engage with the piercing silence. Kazuya shifts his position on the sofa, lying down comfortably while he gazes at the ceiling.

A part of him wonders about the future.

out

There’s a new catcher on the field when Kazuya faces Sawamura’s team in the first round of the season.

Kazuya smirks once his eyes meet Okumura Koushuu, a former teammate in Seidou, who glowers at him from the opposite dugout. The younger catcher has directed an animosity towards him during his third year. Kazuya finds it amusing – it’s nice to find a rival on the field when his admired catcher is playing games across the sea in the Major Leagues. But Okumura has long passed his youth, firmly shaking Kazuya’s hand while he tells him in the small voice that he’ll steal the main catcher position from Tadano. Kazuya teasingly prods on his lack of skill compared to the main catcher, laughing when his kouhai growls lowly at him in annoyance.

The first few innings are bloody.

Since the Swallows team has successfully recruited his former teammate, Kominato Haruichi, as well as another powerful slugger from the north, Mimura Ryouta, their batting lineup has improved drastically in the past few months of training. Kazuya’s chest is pumped with excitement, desiring to see their batters explode in the mound. But he carefully keeps his emotions in check before he draws all of them out in his face. Kazuya prides on being a level-headed player after all.

Their team scores two runs – a powerful hit from Kominato sends the ball sailing above the shortstop, reaching deep into the outfield, earning him a chance to reach second base while Mimura’s batting proves to be useful when the ball hits the scoreboard. They’re the first to score but the Hanshin Tigers earn the runs back with an RBI from their captain followed by Sawamura’s unexpected hit towards the left field, sending their third base runner home.

But Kazuya is not here to lose.

Sprinting towards the catcher’s box, he gazes at Hongou, observing his condition. Satisfied that the pitcher still looks alright, Kazuya crouches down and eyes the batter who steps inside, smirking once he realizes who it is.

“Okumura,” he gleefully says. “Still as quiet as ever, I see.”

“Senpai,” replies Okumura, bowing at the umpire. “Still an asshole as ever.”

Kazuya stifles a chuckle. “Looks like you’re getting snarkier now.”

Okumura lifts his bat and hoists it on his shoulder, shifting himself into a batting stance. Kazuya smiles proudly when he sees the younger catcher mimicking his old batting form – it does suit him better than it did to Kazuya. “I learned how to be a nightmare from my former roommate in high school whose favorite hobby is to piss me off.”

Kazuya snorts. “Good for you.”

Hongou pitches ferociously on the mound, his balls curving sharper towards the plate. Okumura grits his teeth as he fouls off another one, clicking his tongue as he shifts his body into a more comfortable batting position. Kazuya grins at the change and places his mitt on the outside course. Okumura knows of Kazuya’s blatant addiction to inside courses – he’s seen him gloriously strike out the strongest of batters with three inside pitches consecutively signed towards the pitcher on the mound.

Hongou raises his left leg and throws.

“Strike! Batter out!”

Kazuya chuckles and sends Okumura a smug grin. “You fought well.”

Okumura’s eye twitches. “I’m not in the mood to play games with you, senpai.”

It’s the sixth inning when Kazuya’s mood is lifted by the pitcher change. He watches as Sawamura yells enthusiastically, barreling towards the mound with an unparalleled excitement that makes Kazuya’s chest burn. He squeezes the bat tightly in his fingers, hungry for his turn on the batting lineup. Sawamura’s pitches have him swinging in the air into a strikeout last season again – a fact that Kazuya has taken to heart.

Kazuya has spent the off-season practicing his batting with Sawamura’s pitches in mind. He visualizes each pitch Sawamura has thrown at him, swinging his bat with precision and control, grinning when he hits the imaginary pitch and sends it flying outside the fences. He has done this for an hour everyday until he can finally confidently say that he can hit a home run off the pitcher.

Kominato strikes out from Sawamura’s pitches. Kazuya observes the tiny frustration seeping out of the second baseman’s face, his eyes boring holes at Sawamura with awe and curiosity. Kazuya grins when Mimura barely hits the incoming pitch, sending it towards the outfield. Mimura reaches first base with a frown on his face – Kazuya chuckles because he knows how hard it is to even time the southpaw’s pitches.

“Oi, Miyuki, focus! It’s your turn to bat next.”

Kazuya sends a shit-eating grin towards their left fielder, who flips him off a middle finger, while carrying his bat and making his way out the dugout. He steps inside the on-deck circle, swinging a few times, before turning his gaze back to the batter before him. His teammate fouls off two pitches and holds on before he finally strikes out, making his way towards the dugout with a sour face. The teammate makes a face when Kazuya tauntingly salutes at him.

Kazuya steps inside, hoisting his bat on his shoulder as he stares at Sawamura challengingly. The pitcher’s golden irises reflect a fierceness that settles on Kazuya’s chest, leaving him feeling like he’s embraced by an adrenaline rush. Kazuya wants to hit a home run.

Sawamura lifts his right leg, his eyes boring holes at Kazuya’s fiery ones, and whips his arm. The ball hurls quickly towards Kazuya and he swings, but it misses and the ball hits the catcher’s mitt with a loud smack. Kazuya sends him a grin – it seems like his friend’s pitches increased their speed. Sawamura grins back at him, his eyes challenging and excited, as if he really wants Kazuya to strike out.

Kazuya refuses to back down.

“His pitches are faster,” he says to Okumura who ignores him and signs. “I’ll hit and win the game.”

Kazuya loosens the hold on his bat, staring intently at the unique form unveiling itself again in his eyes, and the ball whizzes to the plate. But he is ready now – he has figured out the timing from the first pitch and Kazuya swings, hitting the pitch and sending it flying, but it ends up being a foul to his irritation.

Sawamura frowns at him from the mound, his eyes suddenly looking cautious.

“Oi, Sawamura,” yells Kazuya, baring his teeth into a wild grin. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna back down now?”

Sawamura sputters and scowls at him. “I’M NOT! JUST YOU WATCH! I’LL STRIKE YOU OUT, YOU BASTARD!”

Kazuya ignores the laughter from the spectators, satisfied that he’ll get to defeat the pitcher at his best form. He wants to defeat him fair and square, not because the pitcher lost focus on the mound. (Kazuya refuses to admit that he’s only like this to Sawamura because he would never waste the opportunity to destroy a distracted pitcher with his precise swing.) Okumura sighs exasperatedly, looking at him knowingly as if he knows what Kazuya is doing. Kazuya just grins at him before turning his attention back to the mound.

Sawamura is back to himself. Just the way Kazuya likes it to be.

He watches as the pitcher throws at him and he swings, bringing all the power and force from his lower body into the swing. The bat hits the ball with a loud clang, sending it flying.

Kazuya lets go of his bat and runs. He peers up to the sky and sees the ball whizzing past the outfielders and going into the stands. His teammates suddenly emerge from the dugout, screaming at him, as Kazuya runs across the bases. His gaze falls on Sawamura, and for a second, he sees an odd emotion flicker across his face before the pitcher turns towards his running body, saluting at him and grinning.

“I’ll strike you out in your next at-bat, tanuki four-eyes!” he yells, pointing a finger at him.

Kazuya grins back, sighing in relief that his friend didn’t break.

The Yakult Swallows wins the game, scoring 6 runs against Hanshin’s 5, earning Kazuya his first satisfying victory against Sawamura’s pitches. He doesn’t strike out in his next at-bat, albeit almost striking out from that nasty curveball he’s grateful he fouled off, and ends up hitting the last pitch into the right field, scoring them another run that seals the game.

“Next time, Miyuki Kazuya,” says Sawamura as he shakes Kazuya’s hand tightly, his cheeks flushed. “I’ll defeat you with my pitches.”

Kazuya laughs and leans his head forward, making Sawamura step back in surprise. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from the pitcher who keeps telling me he’ll be the ace.”

The next game is between the Hanshin Tigers and the Yomiuri Giants, the team Kazuya’s itching to defeat, the team that recruited his friend, Narumiya Mei and Inashiro’s shortstop, Shirakawa Katsuyuki. Kazuya wants to watch, but he’s not available on the day.

“Oi, Miyuki,” calls out one of his teammates. “Coach wants to ask you about the game.”

“Okay. Tell him to wait. I just have to call someone.”

Kazuya peers at his phone screen and presses the name Kuramochi.

He has a favor to ask.

iii. second base

The next batter steps inside, hoisting his bat while the first base runner smirks at the pitcher. The pitcher scowls at the runner threateningly, exhaling loudly, before turning his focus back on the batter. The pitcher raises his right leg and throws. The batter swings and the umpire yells, “Strike!” while the pitcher tries to maintain his calm. The first base runner takes a huge lead to distract the pitcher, barreling towards the second base once the pitcher throws the second pitch. One yells, “Steal!” and the pitcher widens his eyes at him, but the runner reaches second base and the umpire yells, “Safe!” The pitcher turns his gaze back at the batter, frustrated, but he calms himself down before finally raising his right leg to throw another pitch. The ball is sent flying with a loud clang, soaring in the air until the ball falls into the left fielder’s mitt. The umpire yells, “Strike! Batter out!”

foul

Kazuya hasn’t heard about Sawamura for three days straight.

It isn’t something unusual – his bestfriend is vying for the ace title, so naturally, he’s going to be busy training hard for the next season. What bothers Kazuya is the pitcher has seen his messages, but never bothered replying. Kazuya tries to rack his brain for anything that could’ve happened these past few days. All he has done was tease the pitcher continuously on a long string of texts and he never stepped out of line.

Okumura hasn’t been telling him anything either. Kazuya has tried to contact his kouhai multiple times, but the catcher wouldn’t budge. Okumura ends up telling him that Sawamura is just going through a phase right now and it would be best not to call him.

But somehow, a sense of dread fills his chest.

The season is about to start, a few weeks later, and he still hasn’t heard anything. It’s not like he can afford to visit Sawamura – their team is also busy for upcoming season, so Kazuya’s got his hands full with conditioning his pitchers before they even break down from the pressure on the mound. Not that Kazuya doesn’t trust Hongou and Ouno. They’re formidable pitchers with their own strengths inside the field. Hongou’s power and Ouno’s precision are their best assets.

“Nice ball!” he yells as he throws the ball back with satisfying smack.

Ouno glances at the ball then at Kazuya. “My curveball isn’t pitched well today.”

Kazuya shrugs and signs. “Your performance is becoming more consistent, so I wouldn’t take that as a problem. I still have to deal with Hongou, but you can pitch your curveballs to other catchers.”

Ouno raises his left leg and throws, smacking the pitch square in the mitt. “But Miyuki, I noticed you look out of it these past few weeks. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“What do you mean?” says Kazuya nonchalantly.

“Well…” Ouno shrugs. “You just weren’t this quiet before. And you’re less snarky than usual.”

“Oh.” Kazuya tilts his head teasingly. “You want me to pinpoint all your pitching mistakes for the past week right now?”

Ouno rolls his eyes. “And there he goes again, back to his usual self.”

Kazuya chastises himself a bit for letting people notice how nervous he is more than usual. It’s not like he can tell them what he’s worrying about. It’s his personal life, something that’s remotely unrelated to baseball. He wraps up practice with a few comments on Ouno’s new slider and stands up to relax himself before they resume training after an hour. To his surprise, he hears a ringtone on his phone. Kazuya sighs and picks up his phone, pressing the ‘accept’ button.

“Hello?”

“Oh, great devil, you answered,” says Kuramochi, his voice filled with a bit of static. Kazuya has forgotten that he’s in a bad reception, so he tells the shortstop to wait for a few minutes as he finds a new spot. Satisfied when he reaches a spot near the training field’s entrance, he places the phone on his ear and asks, “So, what is it?”

Kuramochi sighs. “Are you still living under the rock or have you read about the news today?”

Kazuya narrowed his eyes. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“Apparently, the lineup of Hanshin Tigers has switched. I don’t see Sawamura on the names of the players playing this season.”

Kazuya widens his eyes. “What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Kuramochi clears his throat. “Do you have any idea why he’s not playing?”

Kazuya winces. “No, he’s not talking to me these past few weeks. Okumura is not saying anything either.”

The call ends with Kuramochi cursing Kazuya about his sharp tongue after he delivers a hard blow to the shortstop with his mocking words. Kazuya remains puzzled about the strangeness of Sawamura’s sudden disappearance. He debates on calling Sawamura’s parents, but he didn’t want to seem like he’s too affected by whatever this is. Besides, it’s not like Kazuya’s even sure that his bestfriend told his parents about what happened.

“You still look tense,” comments Hongou on one of their off-days.

Kazuya tries to keep a straight face. “I’m just tired. It’s none of your business.”

“I don’t really care about what you’re going through.” Hongou stands up and picks up his tray. “But make sure not to take all this inside the field.”

“Don’t worry,” reassures Kazuya. “This would never affect my play.”

Kazuya repeats his cycle of going inside his apartment to sleep, waking up the next day to another training, and going home again to sleep – it’s so boring and mundane and Kazuya misses the texts Sawamura often sends him before he goes inside the fields to practice. It gives him so much motivation and energy to train when he sees his rival always telling him everyday that he’ll be defeated. God, those kinds of texts pump up his blood into erratic beats.

But now, they have stopped and Kazuya just wants things to go back the way they’re used to be.

One morning, Kazuya strolls inside the cafeteria when he gets a message from Kuramochi asking him to call again on his free time. He puts the phone on his ear and says, “So, hello, Mochi-kun.”

Kuramochi groans from the phone. “Ugh, Miyuki, stop being a prick and let me speak.”

“Alright, alright,” says Kazuya, his mouth still full of snickers.

“Oi, just stop – “

“Okay.” Kazuya chokes on his laughter and stops. “Now, why would you call me?”

“Remember Sawamura?” Kuramochi shuffles and there’s a few indistinguishable noises in the background, and he stops with a loud thud. “Sorry about that. My neighbor just went home and she’s making a ruckus about smelly pots. Serves her right for being a bitch. Anyway, where was I?”

“Sawamura?” offers Kazuya.

“Oh. Yeah.” Kuramochi sighs. “Well, the kid isn’t playing next season and I found out why. Remember how I suddenly became friends with your friend, Mima Soichiro, that one from Hakuryuu?”

“So? Spill it then.”

“Miyuki, your friend has the yips.”

Kazuya stumbles back in shock. “What? How?” he demands.

“Remember how Shirakawa got subbed after being hit by a deadball? He just got out of the hospital since the ball hit his injured arm. The team found out that he’s been hiding a small injury, but it worsened after he hid it, and now he can’t play either.”

“But that’s not Sawamura’s fault.”

“I don’t know what happened, Miyuki. But I think he blamed himself without knowing that. I learned from Mima that Sawamura can’t pitch to the inside right now.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” promises Kazuya.

The call ends and Kazuya slumps himself to his sofa, mulling over any and every possible reason why Sawamura could have gotten the yips. Kazuya thinks it’s unfair that a great pitcher like him would succumb to that. He refuses to accept the possibility that his bestfriend might never play again, and that he may never get to see and hit his beautiful pitches anymore.

It takes Kazuya exactly five days to finally accept that this is the reality now. But he refuses to stand back and wait in the shadows for so long. Before he knew it, he has already dialed Okumura’s number, impatiently tapping his fingers on the table while he waits.

“Hello,” says Okumura. “Why are you calling me, Miyuki-senpai?”

“Hello,” breathes out Kazuya. “So, how’s Sawamura right now? He’s not playing on the next season.”

Okumura sighs in exasperation. “He’s not okay and I can’t tell you why. You wouldn’t let go of this matter, right?”

“No.”

There’s a clammy sensation crawling on Kazuya’s stomach and he tries to calm down his swirling thoughts. Yips. Yips. There’s a chance that his bestfriend won’t be pitching again. But Kazuya doesn’t want that to happen. Only a few athletes get over the yips. He wants Sawamura to be added to that list.

“Okumura, can I ask for a favor?”

Okumura clicks his tongue. “What is it?”

“Can you – uhm, inform me if changes start happening him? Or maybe you can just at least let me contact you from time to time to check up on him?”

“Why are you asking me for this – “

“I know he has the yips.” Kazuya’s right fist clenches. “I didn’t even know he had that.”

“Huh? Where did you find out?”

Kazuya taps his foot impatiently. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is my bestfriend’s condition right now. So, I just want to ask if you can at least tell me how he is and I’ll try to help as much as I can.”

There’s a strange tone in Okumura’s voice that relaxes Kazuya. “Okay, Miyuki-senpai. I’ll text you updates.”

Kazuya sighs in relief. He hopes the pitcher can overcome this.

lead

Kazuya’s routine slowly changes as the season starts. He’s juggling between handling the games to secure victory, messaging Okumura about the pitcher’s condition, and trying to research ways on how to heal the yips. It isn’t like Kazuya to do this to someone, but Eijun was and is his bestfriend now. This is the least Kazuya can do without ruining his own schedules. It’s a good thing he has no hobbies – they’ll take up too much of his time when he should be focusing on other things.

But he’s stuck in a difficult dilemma.

“Sir, are you going to buy this baseball sling bag or are you just going to stare at it until your eyes break?” snarks one of the employees.

It’s a good thing that Kazuya’s in a good mood or else, that employee will not see any light of day. Sighing, he picks up the sling bag and adds it to his collection of different baseball-themed trinkets he thinks Sawamura will like. Okumura has told him that the pitcher is still not giving up, and is still continuously running laps everyday to strengthen himself. Kazuya’s heart warms when he hears from Okumura that the pitcher still talks about him sometimes.

It isn’t easy for Kazuya to keep finding new things to give the pitcher for motivation. He never puts his name down on the box – he’s one of their rivals and he can’t risk being found out by anyone who sees the package. Kazuya is simply satisfied that he gets to do something so that Sawamura’s day can at least be brightened up.

“Why don’t I just call him now so you two can talk it out?” offers Okumura, his voice tired and weary. “It’s tiring to be the one-sided messenger, you know.”

“No,” insists Kazuya. “I can’t force him to suddenly talk to me. I tried messaging him when he stopped replying. He hasn’t even opened them.”

Okumura clicks his tongue. “You two are confusing. I pity both Kuramochi-senpai and Mima-senpai for having to deal with the two of you.”

Kazuya laughs wryly. “I pity Mima and Tadano for dealing with a kouhai like you.”

“Give me a break.” Okumura exhales loudly. “I’ve been stuck with a devil captain for a year in Seidou, so that’s a reasonable excuse for my behavior.”

“How’s Mima?” asks Kazuya while he opens his laptop to check the news about the next season. “He hasn’t been texting me lately.”

Okumura chokes. “Busy dating someone, I think.”

Kazuya widens his eyes and grins. “Eh? That guy got a girlfriend? How can someone handle him?”

“Boyfriend, senpai,” corrects Okumura. “But don’t tell anyone just yet. Our country really needs to stop being so narrow-minded about these kinds of things. The coach and the whole team know about it, so we’re trying to keep it under the wraps.”

Kazuya squints at the screen of his laptop. “He’ll have to come out in the future.”

Okumura sighs. “Well, that can’t happen now. We still have to deal with Sawamura-senpai’s issue and I don’t think our team can handle too much drama.”

“Fair enough.” Kazuya peers at the wall clock in front of him. “Looks like I’ll have to go now. Call me again if things happen. I’ve been in touch with Chris-senpai and he agreed to help, so he might call you late at night this week. I know you still can’t help him right now since the season is still on-going and you have to focus on it first, but I think Chris-senpai’s advice can work. The season is almost ending anyway.”

Okumura stays silent for a while.

“Okumura?”

“Senpai, thank you for the help.” Okumura clears his throat. “I’m glad you’ve changed from your asshole self back in high school. (“Oi.”) It’s true, you’re an asshole back then, but you’ve been more open to being there for your friends now and we appreciate it. I’m sure Sawamura-senpai will be able to bounce back from this, but you’re speeding up the process. I’m really grateful for that. Though it would be nice if you actually start being more direct.”

Kazuya bites his lip as he feels his chest warm. “I can’t promise anything but I guess I’ll try harder.”

The silence fills in the gaps and empty spaces wrestling with the thoughts inside Kazuya’s mind. He thinks he’s lucky enough to have friends who had been patient with him. Kazuya vaguely remembers Kuramochi’s persistence to break down his walls and Okumura’s force of will against his snarky attitude. He remembers Mima’s subtly perceptive texts and Mei’s random moments of kindness. And now, he has Sawamura too and he might not be there to see him recover, but Kazuya wants to be a better friend than how his old, immature self had been back then.

(Not that his sarcastic, sharp tongue will disappear. He still likes that.)

“Hongou, your turn for batting practice,” says Kazuya as he points at the mound before turning to Ouno. The season is almost ending and Kazuya wants to win with his team this time. They’ve been lingering in the second rank for too long already. “You’re pitching your curveballs better now. I think you can practice more with Mimura as the batter. His intensity is a good way to help you deal with being under pressure.”

“Understood.” Ouno removes his pitching glove and massages his wrist. “How’s Sawamura? I’m curious since he didn’t play this season.”

Kazuya shrugs nonchalantly, ignoring the tremble inside his chest. “He’s been alright, from what I know. Anyway, let’s focus on the last games first. We need two more wins to reach the top. Think you can handle the Giants’ best batters?”

Ouno gives him a rare smile. “I think so. Maybe we’ll get a miracle home run off Narumiya this season.”

Kazuya snorts. “It’s not going to be a miracle. I need to make sure that guy stops flying inside the clouds. Can’t have Mei getting a big head now, can we?”

“You should really blast away his pitches, Miyuki,” comments Mimura teasingly. “Or we’ll have to hear Narumiya gloat again about how you can barely hit his pitches and you snarking your ass off just to piss of the poor pitcher.”

“Me?” Kazuya places a hand on his chest mockingly and faux-widens his eyes. “I’m not doing anything wrong, am I?”

Mimura grins lopsidedly. “Nope. Narumiya needs a friend-slash-rival to kick his ass.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page,” says Kazuya, flashing a shit-eating grin.

Kazuya’s taunts annoy Narumiya who scowls at him while he shakes his hand. Kazuya revels on the pitcher’s complaints about his batting skill after hitting a two-run homer and securing the Swallows’ win against the Giants on the ninth inning. To Kazuya’s delight, a few days after, they end up winning the last game and the whole season.

hit

It’s terrifying when it seems like Sawamura might not get back to the field.

Kazuya bites his bottom lip to prevent himself from reaching out to his phone and calling Okumura for the third time this week. It’s a struggle thinking about the possibility that his bestfriend might not play again – but Kazuya trusts that Sawamura will get back to the field because he knows how strong the pitcher’s willpower is.

He also doesn’t stop sending anonymous gifts and messages of support to the pitcher’s apartment. Okumura chastises him for not telling Sawamura that he knows about the yips, but Kazuya doesn’t want to overstep his own boundaries. Although it hurts a bit that he didn’t get to know about what happened from Sawamura himself, he doesn’t want to assume things for now. He doesn’t want a repeat of what happened during his captaincy at Seidou, his misinterpretation of Nabe’s words that caused mayhem within the team for days. It’s a surprise that the media hasn’t caught on Sawamura’s problems with the yips and has simply dismissed his lack of play this season as a ‘bad performance phase’. Not that Kazuya wants that to happen. He doesn’t want his bestfriend to have to deal with the negative attention. Most athletes suffering from the yips usually end up ending their career and Kazuya doesn’t want that to happen to Sawamura.

The lack of communication also brings Kazuya a slap in the face about his own feelings. Ever since his friends started egging him on being more open and honest, Kazuya has slowly learned to at least have some awareness on the way he feels. And right now, he feels really lonely and sad. It’s these emotions that kept him on a tight line – he keeps on ignoring them to prioritize the season, but now that the season’s over, Kazuya can’t ignore the warm feelings slowly bubbling in his chest whenever he thinks of Sawamura Eijun.

“I say you’re whipped,” says Kuramochi as he gulps the contents of his beer. “Want a drink?”

Kazuya makes a face. “No, I’d rather not. Someone has to stay sober between the two of us and it’s going to be me this time.”

Kuramochi roars with laughter. “Good.” He drinks another shot. “I’m just frustrated that we ended up losing to Sawamura’s team this season. What the fuck? Did you just see Okumura’s batting average now? He’s really dead set on defeating that former Inashiro catcher, isn’t he?”

Kazuya snorts. “Of course. Tadano is a good catcher, but if Okumura works for it, he can surpass him.”

“Anyone who can deal with a pitcher like Narumiya Mei is a good catcher,” slurs Kuramochi as he downs the rest of the bottle. “I mean, his nasty cutter was so hard to hit. Damn. I should’ve batted better than that.”

“You’ve forgotten we’re dealing with a brat,” says Kazuya, pursing his lips. “I’m surprised Tadano has him wrapped around his fingers.”

Kuramochi stops. “Huh?”

Kazuya grins. “Remember that story last week of a Narumiya calling me to rant my ass off about his new conquest? Guess who that conquest is.”

“No fucking way.” Kuramochi slams his fist on the table, attracting a lot of onlookers much to Kazuya’s chagrin. “He’s really going for him, is he?”

Kazuya shrugs. “Who knows. Probably. I don’t really care that much.”

“And now we go back to the real topic, you and Sawamura.” Kuramochi signs at the bartender to give him another bottle. “When are you going to confess?”

Kazuya shakes his head. “I don’t plan on confessing, Mochi.” At the warning look on Kuramochi’s eyes, Kazuya presses further. “At least not now. I’m still – You know I still have problems dealing with myself and I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship right now.”

Kuramochi narrows his eyes. “You’re not planning to string Sawamura along are you? We’re bestfriends, as much as I hate to admit that, but hurt Sawamura and you’ll have to suffer through my fist.”

“What do you take me for?” grumbles Kazuya, wrinkling his nose at the smell of booze. “I’m not going to do that to him.”

Kuramochi looks at him for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Like I said, whipped.”

Kazuya regrets that he didn’t leave Kuramochi on his misery at the bar that day. He should’ve let the shortstop rot in there.

It’s a few days after their off-season started when Kazuya’s morning is suddenly disturbed by a barrage of knocks at his front door. He tries to ignore it for a moment. Maybe the knocks will stop. But the knocks don’t stop and he hears shouting voices outside his apartment. Irritated, Kazuya forces himself to get out of his bed, putting on a shirt and some pants before hurrying towards the source of the commotion.

“What – “

Sawamura is at his front door. Kazuya blinks his eyes in disbelief.

“What took you so long?” complains the pitcher as he enters inside without a care in the world. “You’re supposed to answer quickly, Miyu – Mmrphghh.”

Kazuya clicks his tongue. “Don’t yell my name, idiot. Or else I’ll end up needing to deal with a pile of reporters on my doorstep.”

Sawamura pulls away from Kazuya’s hold and makes a face. “Sorry. But seriously, you need to hurry up in answering the door.”

Kazuya snorts. “Be patient, brat. Go wait for me at the living room. I’ll make some coffee.”

The spoon in Kazuya’s hand almost clatters to the floor as he makes himself a mug of coffee. It’s been months since he has last talked with Sawamura – he still doesn’t know why the pitcher stopped replying to his messages – and Kazuya’s chest is pounding hard from the fact that Sawamura is in his apartment right now. It still doesn’t settle properly in his mind until he plops into the sofa.

“Miyuki,” says Sawamura, eyes averted at the ground. “I’m sorry.”

Kazuya tries to bite off a snarky comment by default and forces himself to listen intently. It’s not time for him to be petty right now. Granted, he’s still hurt, but that’s not an excuse to hurt people back. Kazuya notices the way Sawamura’s fingers are slightly trembling, grabbing tightly on his pants discreetly to hide the tremor. He almost winces when the head lifts and teary eyes stare back at him.

“I didn’t want to tell you that…” Sawamura chokes on a sob. “…that I got the yips because I was scared and terrified that I can’t play again. I didn’t want to tell you…” Kazuya leans and wipes the tears flowing on the pitcher’s cheeks, his chest constricting from the words he’s hearing because this small voice, this is not the Sawamura Eijun he knew, and it hurts. “I was afraid you’d think of me differently because it’s just a deadball and I know it’s not my fault because the shortstop I accidentally hit was already hiding an injury, but my mind and body keep telling me it is. I wanted to get better first before I see you.”

Kazuya pulls Sawamura into a hug, stroking his hair gently as the pitcher rests his head on his shoulder, hugging him back tightly. He hears the sobs escaping Sawamura’s mouth and grits his teeth when he feels a pang inside his chest. “I wouldn’t treat you any differently, idiot.”

Sawamura pulls away and wipes the tears on his cheeks. “Yeah, uh – “ He looks at Kazuya curiously. “But you already knew I had the yips.”

Kazuya widens his eyes. “How did you know? Did anyone tell you?”

“It’s nobody’s fault, I swear. I thought you were angry with me because I stopped replying and you didn’t call my parents to ask.” Sawamura exhales loudly, his eyes blinking owlishly. “But Okumura accidentally left his phone and I picked it up. It was open and then I saw your message and I – “ Sawamura scratches the back of his neck sheepishly. “I may or may not have snooped a little bit.”

Kazuya gapes at him. “You snooped?”

“It wasn’t my fault, you know!” defended Sawamura hotly, his face scowling. “He left it there and I saw it. More importantly, Miyuki Kazuya, have you or have you not been sending me those gifts and letters?!”

Kazuya looks at Sawamura whose finger is pointing determinedly at him and sighs. He just can’t lie now, can he?

“So? What if I sent them?” asks Kazuya nonchalantly.

Sawamura sputters, looking like he hasn’t expected Kazuya to actually admit the truth. He turns cat-eyed and mutters incoherent words to himself before turning his gaze back to Kazuya shyly, fingers fidgeting. “Those gifts made me really happy. Thank you.”

Kazuya’s heart lurches. “You’ll have to pay me back the money I spent buying those.”

Sawamura suddenly bristles, glaring at Kazuya ferociously. “You’re really the worst. You just had to ruin the mood, hadn’t you? Ugh, why am I friends with you again?”

Kazuya snickers. “Serves you right. How did you even find out where I live?”

“Kuramochi-senpai is easy to bribe, so I easily got it off him,” gloats Sawamura, puffing his chest.

“Don’t let him hear you say that, or you’ll end up being his guinea pig on new chokeholds for the rest of your life.”

“AACK! You’re right!” Sawamura pouts. “It’s a nightmare.”

Kazuya’s stomach keeps on clenching as he listens to Sawamura tell him about his improvements, on how he can pitch to the inside but the control is still wobbly, on how his batting became more consistent. He’s happy that his bestfriend is finally getting back his place at the lineup. The pitcher deserves it after not losing himself and baseball from the yips. Kazuya drinks the last contents of his mug before asking, “You’re going to get back to the field next season, right? That’s a promise?”

Sawamura grunts determinedly. “Of course! I still have to pay you back for the runs you got out of me on last year’s season. I’ll definitely strike you out again!”

Kazuya laughs, throwing his head back. “Good. I’m looking forward to that.”

There’s still that giddy feeling that keeps rising on Kazuya’s chest when Sawamura places his head on his shoulder as he yawns, sleepily looking at the television in front of them to watch the game between the Swallows and the Dragons from an older tape. Not wanting Sawamura to be uncomfortable, he shifts the pitcher’s position and makes him lie down on Kazuya’s lap instead. Kazuya brushes a few wisps of hair out of the pitcher’s face and cards his finger through the strands, observing how innocent and bright Sawamura looks when he’s asleep.

His feelings are getting even stronger than he thought. Kazuya wonders if Sawamura thinks of him the same way Kazuya thinks about him.

When Sawamura wakes up and chastises him for not waking him up, Kazuya pretends that he didn’t purposefully let this happen. He teases the pitcher before serving him a delicious pot of chicken soup and a huge plate of his special fried rice for lunch.

safe

This is what he has been waiting for.

Sawamura Eijun pitching full throttle at the mound, his fierce eyes intimidating even the most fearsome batters.

Kazuya watches in awe as he sees the pitcher strike Narumiya out with a new resolve present on his face. A few days ago, he’s worried that Sawamura wouldn’t be able to pitch his best against Shirakawa, but he shakes off these thoughts, wanting to have faith that his bestfriend will pull through unscathed. And right, he is, because Sawamura is exploding on the mound right now. What’s more surprising is the speed of his pitches. Chris has mentioned to him a few weeks ago that Sawamura’s been experimenting with increasing the speed of his pitches. (Kazuya ignores the pooling feeling of jealousy inside his stomach and the vivid memories of his bestfriend gushing like a lovesick puppy about Chris. He’s not jealous. Not at all.)

“He’s on fire, isn’t he?” says Kuramochi beside him, snacking on chips as he observes the flow of the game.

Kazuya puts his arms behind his head and sighs. “Hanshin Tigers might have the momentum this season. I heard they also got Akamatsu Shinji as their new pitcher in training.”

Kuramochi coughs his chips in surprise and looks at Kazuya pointedly. “Inashiro’s ace? They got that kid?”

Kazuya grins. “All the more reason our team has to destroy them. We can’t let another team steal our crown, can we?”

Kuramochi glares at him. “Oi, Miyuki, don’t forget that our team will definitely get revenge for what your team did last season. We’ll win this time around.”

Kazuya snorts and tilts his head challengingly. “If you can even get on base, cheetah-kun.”

“Bastard.”

It’s two strikeouts and Enjou Renji, the Giants’ catcher is up to bat. Kazuya sees Tadano peer at Enjou with narrowed eyes and suddenly stand up. It amuses him when a catcher change is announced. Finally, he’ll get to see his two bestfriends form a battery together again from the stands – although it does send a pang in his chest because no matter how hard he tries to push the thought off, he really wants to catch Sawamura’s pitches.

“You reckon Okumura’s gonna strike Enjou out?” asks Kuramochi, offering his chips.

Declining the chips, Kazuya shrugs. “Who knows. I haven’t seen the two of them face yet. Okumura didn’t play in the Giants’ game last season as a catcher. He complained to me on the phone about his miserable fielding role.”

“What do you think?”

Kazuya smirks. “But it’s Sawamura pitching and I, for one, know that Okumura has a better catcher instinct and strategy than Tadano. He just lacks game experience. They’ll give Enjou a run for his money.”

Hongou grunts next to him, sending him a glare. “Enjou is a good batter.”

Kazuya snickers. “Have a soft spot for your former catcher? Heh, I know he’s good, but that doesn’t mean this battery won’t strike him out.”

And just like Kazuya has predicted, Okumura and Sawamura strike Enjou out after five pitches. It’s a massive win for the Hanshin Tigers, filling the stadium with loud cheers coming from their fans. Kazuya looks at Sawamura one last time before following Kuramochi out of the stadium with thoughts running through his head.

Kazuya smiles. He’ll have fun this season.

iv. third base

The second base runner watches as the next batter takes the last batter’s place after a strikeout. He doesn’t forget to smirk at the pitcher who sticks his tongue out at him. Laughing, he amusedly watches as his teammate hoists the bat and wait for the pitch to arrive. With power from his lower body, the batter swings and hits the pitch into the foul territory. “Foul!” yells the umpire. The batter settles into a confident stance again while the second base runner takes a lead. The pitcher raises his right leg and throws a pitch, and the batter swings, hitting it with a loud clang towards the left field. The second base runner doesn’t waste a moment to run towards third base while the batter runs towards first base. “Safe!” declares the umpire. The second base runner smiles at the frustration on the pitcher’s face.

strike

Their next match is with the Rakuten Gold Eagles.

Kazuya has seen the lineup a dozen times last night, spending most of his time gathering game notes and discussing with Hongou and Ouno about the pitching sequences. He notices the lack of power hitters in the batting lineup, specifically instructing the two to focus on control. He’s not that worried about the batters though. Kazuya has noticed something different about the Rakuten’s pitching lineup. It’s almost as if they’re hiding the pitcher named Kimura Sosuke. Never has Kazuya heard of the name before, and it doesn’t help that all the pitcher did for the earlier parts of the season is to stay inside the dugout. Almost as if the team is waiting for an opportunity to bring the pitcher out in the middle of the season.

But Kazuya can’t concern himself with figuring that out. They have to make sure they practice their batting to be ready for any unexpected player changes from Rakuten. The team has been already known to shift their lineup unpredictably which, strangely enough, reminds him of Yakushi High. This time though, the team is stronger and more experienced than that unorthodox high school. No wonder they have Todoroki Raichi wrapped around their fingers. He figures out that his father would’ve preferred a team similar to his coaching style. Not that it matters. Kazuya’ll make sure he strikes out – he’s the only one who can hit with power among the batters.

“Ready to take down your opponents?” asks Kuramochi as he munches on his popcorn.

Kazuya grins. “You should know better than me what the answer is, considering you had three strikeouts from my pitchers.”

Kuramochi eyes him with distaste. “If I was a shitty friend, I would’ve pounded you with my fist and wished you bad luck for this game.”

“Don’t be like that, Kuramochi-senpai!” yells Sawamura. Then, he turns to Kazuya and points his finger towards him. “Now, you, Miyuki Kazuya. You should definitely win this game because we want to crush you after!”

“Now, now.” Kazuya laughs. “You better be ready to take responsibility for what you said or I might just have to hit a home run off of you again.”

Sawamura turns cat-eyed, cheeks flushing. “Win first, Miyuki Kazuya!”

And who is Kazuya to let down his friends who took the time to watch him play? Fitting his catcher’s gear on his body, he steps outside the dugout and follows his teammates inside the field. The stadium is filled to the brim again today, and Kazuya can’t help but feel excited when he sees their team’s mascot entertaining their fans. He wonders what would happen in the game.

“I’ll be pitching first, right?” asks Ouno, his eyes alive and burning.

Kazuya nods. “Are you fine with that? I think we can use your splitter and curveballs today. Remember that the batters aren’t power hitters, but they are very precise and focuses on hitting weak pitches. So, keep your pitches low and accurate. You can do that, can’t you?”

Ouno sends him a rare smile. “Of course, Miyuki-san. I just have to pitch my best to your mitt, right?”

“Yes, do that and we can win this game.”

Todoroki is really a formidable opponent. His aura flares through the stadium, and he sees Ouno falter a little bit before regaining his usual composure. Kazuya thinks about how his batting stance has become more stable now – the lower body looks stronger and his swing looks even sharper. Not to mention he’s already a powerful hitter. Shifting his gaze back to Ouno, Kazuya decides to go for a breaking ball for this batter. Fastballs would be doomed at Todoroki’s bat.

Ouno raises his left leg and throws.

“Strike!” yells the umpire as Raichi steps inside and cackles. The cackling sound serves as a huge distraction to Kazuya, not as deafening but definitely more irritating than Sawamura’s loud yet endearing voice. He positions himself differently and punches his mitt before signing for another curveball.

Todoroki swings and the ball soars towards the foul territory.

Kazuya can see the excitement reflected on Todoroki’s focused gaze and he can’t help but feel respect. It may be time for Ouno to release his new breaking ball, the splitter. Kazuya remembers the first time Furuya has thrown the breaking ball – it has lacked control but has more power, causing batters to swing and miss. But Ouno is not a power pitcher. He only has his control to trust now.

Kazuya signs and nods at Ouno.

With a determined gaze, Ouno exhales and looks at the batter. He raises his left leg and throws with as much control as Kazuya has expected him to have. Kazuya grins. They can strike Todoroki out.

Todoroki swings ferociously, wind howling at Kazuya’s face with the force it took.

“Strike! Batter out!”

The cheers from the dugout brings Kazuya an exhilarated feeling that spreads not only on his face but to his teammates on the field. Todoroki Raichi is Rakuten’s scariest batter. If they can strike him out, they can win this.

Striking the next two batters out isn’t even a challenge on Kazuya’s part. He has already memorized their batting mannerisms and behaviors on the field. Kazuya gives a silent thanks on Nabe’s analysis during their high school days. He really has learned a lot from him and the way he observes games.

“They couldn’t hit my splitter,” says Ouno in wonder. “Is that how strong really the pitch is?”

“It’s not that strong, believe me.” Kazuya gives an amused grin. “It’s the control that makes it formidable. You pitched it as low as I told you to. He can only hit it if he’s expecting a splitter. But Todoroki is expecting a fastball. We can only pitch a fastball to him once or he’ll end up hitting a home run. I’ll always check his form every at-bat to see what he’s expecting.”

Ouno nods. “Fair enough. It feels good to strike him out.”

“Good.” Kazuya taps his chest when they enter the dugout. “Keep that feeling inside of you and pitch your best to me.”

“Should I be flattered that you’re suddenly complimenting my pitching?”

“Nope, not when Mima’s so protective,” says Kazuya nonchalantly.

Ouno widens his eyes. “You know?”

Kazuya clicks his tongue and sends him a shit-eating grin. “Do you really think I wouldn’t put two and two together? It’s a shame I had to hear this from Okumura instead of my own friend. Oh, the horror!”

Ouno rolls his eyes. “Don’t be too dramatic. You don’t even give a fuck about it. Besides, look. We missed the strikeout. Better get ready, Miyuki. It’s my turn on the mound now.”

The Swallows score on the fifth inning, an RBI from Mimura followed by Kominato’s home run that destroys the Rakuten’s current pitcher. Kazuya smirks in satisfaction when their left fielder hits to the right field, bringing another teammate home. They’re ahead of five runs now and Kazuya is determined to keep it that way.

To their team’s surprise, Rakuten calls for a pitcher change.

“Batting eighth, pitcher, Kimura-kun. Pitcher, Kimura-kun.”

This is what Kazuya has been both worried and excited for. He wants to see if this pitcher is really a good pitcher or not. He has no stats or any information about this player – Kazuya needs to observe him cautiously at the field.

“Miyuki Kazuya!” a voice yells from the audience.

Kazuya looks up and smiles.

“You better not let the new pitcher have a comeback, you hear me!”

He looks at Sawamura for a moment before settling on a teasing grin. “You shouldn’t be saying that when we’re your opponents, Sawamura. Maybe you really wish to lose, don’t you?”

Sawamura bristles and raises his fist. “You jerk! Just win, will you?!”

Kazuya laughs with the crowd around Sawamura and mockingly salutes before walking to the batter’s box, settling into his usual batting stance. He hoists his bat on his shoulder and sizes up the pitcher before him. Kimura has a strong build and wide shoulders. He looks about half a size bigger than Kazuya. It looks like this brute can be a power pitcher. With that in mind, Kazuya sighs and concentrates on the pitch.

Kimura winds up, revealing that he’s a southpaw, and throws.

Kazuya swings, missing the pitch’s direction. He can see that he has the right timing for it though. Blowing at his fingertips, Kazuya tightens his hold on his bat and intensely stares at the pitcher who doesn’t seem like he’s intimidated by him at all. The pitcher throws with his strength again. A screwball hurl towards Kazuya, but he doesn’t swing.

“Ball!”

“That’s tricky,” he mutters.

Kazuya fouls two more balls before Kimura somehow pitches balls. Before he knows it, Kazuya is already walking his way to first base without even having to swing. After that, his teammates seem to hit even more easily with this pitcher. Kazuya is already at the third base when the catcher asks for a timeout. He somehow successfully talks with the pitcher, to Kazuya’s observation of the two, and he confidently walks his way back to the catcher’s box and crouches before signing. Kazuya notices the change in the pitcher’s aura.

Kazuya stays stranded on third base after three no-mercy strikeouts from the pitcher. This is tougher than he thought. The batters of Rakuten end up scoring three more runs against Ouno. Soon, Swallows make a pitcher switch. Ignoring Ouno’s apology and telling him he did well to prevent the team from scoring even more, Kazuya riles up Hongou to keep his fire alight, wanting to use Hongou’s new pitches to destroy the batters.

They’re not so lucky at the last inning.

Kimura gets on base and reaches third base after a successful steal followed by a hit towards the left field. It’s the leadoff hitter’s turn to bat. Kazuya is a bit worried that they’ve got a read on Hongou’s pitches.

He punches the mitt and signs.

Kazuya watches as the leadoff hitter swings at the pitch, hitting it to their left fielder’s glove. But, to Kazuya’s surprise, Kimura starts barreling himself towards the home plate.

“Back home!” he yells, waiting for the ball with his mitt.

Their left fielder throws and Kazuya catches it easily with a grin. But as he soon as he steps towards the home plate, a looming shadow of a player bigger than him starts to push his own weight towards his. One moment, he is holding the mitt with a sigh of relief. The next second, he finds himself sprawled on the floor with a searing pain on his shoulder after being squashed underneath the violent pitcher.

Kazuya groans in pain, but he doesn’t make the mistake to let go of the ball on his mitt. It’s the first priority to secure a win after all. The umpire looks over at them and declares, “Out!”

“Aaaahhhh!” he yells when the pain on his shoulder intensifies from the weight of the pitcher who is frozen above him. He tries to push the weight away. The weight disappears when he sees the leadoff hitter hauling the pitcher away from his body. Kazuya squeezes his eyes shut – he can’t move his shoulder, it fucking hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s happening anymore.

“You fucker! How dare you hit our teammate!” he hears someone yell and shouts fill the stadium. He sees a blurred image of people huddled on the side of the field while he’s hauled after someone says, “Medic! Where’s the medic?”

Kazuya bites his lip. This is not good.

foul

It’s strange to see all white around him when he tries to open his eyes.

Kazuya hates hospitals. It reminds him of the way he tries to peer on glass windows to look at his mother unmoving on a white bed. It reminds him of the clenching feeling inside his chest whenever he sees his mother sobbing uncontrollably, thrashing her body around, as the doctors try to sedate her with this scary-looking injection that young Kazuya really, really hates. It feels so suffocating, trapped inside these walls, and he can’t breathe normally than usual.

The events that happened before he got here finally replays in his mind.

It sucks. This is just like what happened to him with that Seiko pitcher back then. This time though, it’s way worse. His career might be in jeopardy, he doesn’t know if he’s shoulder is going to heal fast, and he absolutely has no idea if his team even won.

Kazuya has been used to saying he likes being alone. Now, though, not so much. He really needs someone to tell him what’s going on right now before he loses his shit over this. His hands clutch his blanket tightly, and he keeps watching the clock tick one, two, three… Shit, this is really boring, isn’t it?

Sighing, he picks up the remote on his bedside table and opens the television.

“…and pitcher Kimura Sosuke is out of the league. Due to his offenses, the pitcher has been forbidden to join any baseball league in Japan for thirty years. As you’ve watched from the replay, Miyuki Kazuya, main catcher of Yakult Swallows, has already caught the ball and stepped into the home plate. Pitcher Kimura Sosuke ignores this and continues running, using his body weight to tackle the catcher, leading to a possible injury. There is still no news regarding Miyuki Kazuya’s condition, but fortunately, Yakult Swallows wins the match against Rakuten Golden Eagles with a two-run advantage. Their next match is with the Hanshin Tigers. Stay tuned – “

Kazuya closes the television and sighs. Placing the remote back on the bedside table, he shifts his back slightly and winces when he feels the pain in his left shoulder.

The door opens and the nurse fusses towards him.

“You shouldn’t move too much,” she chastises. “The doctor will be arriving shortly. Just wait for him.”

Kazuya tries to be as patient as he can when all he wants is to find out if he can still play or not. He tries not to think about the possibility of a career-ending injury. Kazuya doesn’t want to live a life where he can’t play baseball. He’s not sure if he’s capable of being happy without it. Trying to stay calm, he busies himself on turning the television on again and switching the channels. There’s a shark about to eat a human on the television screen when his doctor finally arrives inside his room.

Kazuya bows his head. “Good afternoon.”

The doctor nods at him. “Good afternoon as well, Miyuki-san. I have the results regarding your injury.”

Kazuya gulps. “How long will it take for the injury to heal?”

A sigh escapes the doctor’s mouth. “Miyuki-san, fortunately, your injury is not a career-ending one, but it might take some time before you can come back to your own strength on the field. You see, your ligaments that hold the clavicle to the acromion were the ones affected. Shoulder separation happens when these ligaments suddenly tear. So, you have to keep your arm in a sling for now to let it heal. About three weeks after, you’ll have to undergo physical therapy for your shoulder mobility. Make sure not to overwork or overstrain your shoulder. Do that and it really will be a career-ending injury.”

“So, how long? A month? Two months?”

“Two months,” affirms the doctor. “Or three before you go back to the field. It’s also fortunate that after the series, teams will be off-season. You must absolutely not participate in trainings since you have to focus on healing your shoulder. Please don’t be stubborn about this, Miyuki-san. Many of our patients who didn’t follow our instructions ended up losing their career.”

Kazuya nods. “I’ll follow everything. Is that all?”

“Yes. You’ll be able to go back to your apartment tomorrow after a few more tests.”

“Finally,” mutters Kazuya.

Once the doctor leaves the room, Kazuya slumps on his bed and frowns. Three months of pure torture. No playing baseball. This is exactly what Kazuya dreads to happen – him staying on his apartment cooped up for three months why all his teammates train to be better. He’s not going to be surprised if he’s suddenly thrown out of the starting lineup because of this. So much for being a main catcher.

Days pass like a blur and Kazuya spends the whole week at the hospital watching shows that doesn’t distract him from the thoughts that flit through his mind – what-ifs that cloud his usually rational judgment, passing through gaps of logic and reality. A part of him worries that he won’t be back at the field, no matter what the doctor said. After all, doctors has told him and his dad that his mother would be alright, but that didn’t stop his mother from dying, did it?

Kazuya suddenly feels small inside the walls around him. His hands feel clammy and sweat drops on the sides of his head. He clenches his jaw as the tackle replays repeatedly in his mind. The looming shadow running towards him, eyes intensely glaring, air being knocked out of his lungs, his body falling to the ground like a marionette… It repeats and repeats and repeats –

The door slams loudly. “Miyuki!”

Kazuya blinks owlishly and looks around before settling on the person next to him. “Huh? What are you doing here?”

“Idiot. The season’s finished and I’m here to pick up your sorry ass. The doctor told me you could go home now.” Kuramochi scowls at him. “More importantly, why the hell are you looking like you’ve lost hope on life? Don’t you dare blame yourself for what happened, you idiot!”

Kazuya shakes his head. “I’m not.”

“Tch.” Kuramochi crosses his arms. “I’ve known you enough to see what expression your face is making. You can’t avoid that tackle no matter how you look at it. Unless you want the other team to score. So, don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“I’m more worried about my pitchers, not me.”

Kuramochi frowns. “That bastard got what he deserved. He’s not going to play baseball in this country anymore. As for your pitchers, you shouldn’t be too worried. Hongou isn’t unperturbed by the incident. He knows it’s neither your fault, but the fault of that demon pitcher. I swear, he better be happy I’m not your teammate or else I would’ve beaten him up on the spot.”

Kazuya lets out a dry chuckle. “Mochi, you can’t do that or you’ll lose your spot on the team. Besides, it’s not like I can’t play baseball anymore.”

“It’s going to be hard, right?”

Kazuya lifts his head to look at Kuramochi, observing his facial expression intently.

Kuramochi scratches the back of his neck. “Look. I probably shouldn’t be inflating your own ego, as big as it already is, but you’re one of best catchers in the league. I doubt that someone could take your spot within three months when you come back.”

“That’s not a guarantee – “

Kuramochi interrupts, voice raised. “And if and only if you suddenly got overtaken by another catcher, where’s the Miyuki Kazuya I know who’ll make sure to steal his spot back? Huh? Did your fighting spirit die on the field after being injured?”

Kazuya can’t help but put on a mocking look of surprise. “Aww, Mochi, you do care about me. That’s so sweet.”

“Bastard. Here I am trying to comfort you and this is how you repay me.”

Kazuya laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you, Mochi. I needed that hit in the head to keep my thoughts in check.”

“I wasn’t your bestfriend on Seidou for no reason, you know. I made sure to keep you in check because as good as you are in keeping the team together, you suck at taking care of yourself. What would you do if I wasn’t here? Huh?!”

Kazuya pouts. “Fine, fine. Thanks, Mom.”

Kuramochi’s face softens. “Glad to see your back to your usual self. Now, stop annoying me before I leave you in the middle of the road before we even arrive at your apartment, you hear me?”

All Kazuya sends in reply are a handful of snickers.

The trip back to his apartment is silent – the stereo keeps on playing a few songs that Kazuya doesn’t recognize, but it relieves the swirling anxiety inside his mind. He wonders why he’s suddenly getting anxious now. It isn’t the first time he got injured anyway, but somehow, this one holds more weight than the last one he got from his games at Seidou High. Kazuya wonders if he should’ve taken a college route first before going into the draft. He then shakes his head, not wanting to mull over regrets, because that’s not him. He’s not someone who gives up just because of an injury. He really needs to learn the persistence his bestfriend Sawamura has.

A part of Kazuya wishes that Sawamura is here.

When they arrive at his apartment, Kazuya almost trips in surprise when his front door opens, revealing Sawamura with his hair messy and eyes red, fussing towards him. Sawamura looks at his figure for a moment before taking his right arm from Kuramochi and slinging it on his own shoulders. Kazuya looks at him questioningly, wondering why he’s suddenly there.

“You sure you can take care of him, Bakamura?” asks Kuramochi, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Sawamura huffs and puffs his cheeks. “Of course, Kuramochi-senpai! I’ll make sure to give this old catcher a good whipping if he steps out of line.”

“Oi,” protests Kazuya.

Kuramochi bares his teeth. “Hyahaha! Good then. Make sure to practice my chokeholds on him if he insists on training.”

“Understood.” Sawamura salutes at him before turning his attention back to Kazuya. “Does your left shoulder hurt from this? No? Okay, let’s go inside.”

Kazuya tries to keep his cheeks from warming too much at the near proximity between him and Sawamura. He likes that the pitcher is here with him – Kazuya is not sure he can take being alone right now. There are few thoughts that are going inside his head that he wants to say, but he doesn’t want to ruin the comfortable silence between them right now, so he keeps his mouth shut. Sawamura helps him walk towards his bedroom, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he makes sure that he doesn’t aggravate Kazuya’s injury. Kazuya’s heart lurches at the sight.

“You didn’t have to do this,” says Kazuya exasperatedly.

Sawamura sighs. “We’re friends before rivals, Miyuki. After the off-season, I’ll make sure to visit you everyday after training. It’s good that our camp is here in Tokyo. I can spend my time here every night.”

Kazuya almost chokes on his mouth after hearing that. “What? You’re spending your time here every night?”

“You have a problem with that?” challenges Sawamura as he lays him on his bed. “I can always sleep on the couch. Kuramochi-senpai’s camp is not in Tokyo, so I took the responsibility to make sure you’re following the doctor.”

“Idiot,” replies Kazuya but it lacks the teasing lilt he usually has.

Sawamura sees right through him and grins. “I know how badly you need a companion right now. So, stop being a tsundere and just admit you’re glad someone is here with you.”

Kazuya averts his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, Kazuya wakes up to a distressed-looking Sawamura trying to save a burnt egg on his frying pan. Snickering, Kazuya flicks his forehead and instructs him to take a new pan, carefully reminding him how to prepare the ingredients and cook the egg with the fried rice. Sawamura juts his bottom lip, his eyes staring at the pan in concentration, intently listening to Kazuya when he tells him to flip the rice inside the pan and to add more salt and pepper. Soon, they both finish preparing the breakfast and Sawamura delightedly thanks him for assisting him at his almost-failed task. Kazuya snorts and waves his hand dismissively, saying it doesn’t matter since he’s also eating the food.

Kazuya feels a part of him wishing this can happen everyday until he grows old.

He’s really done for.

ball

Sawamura becomes a part of his daily routine when off-season starts.

Kazuya stops using his sling a week after the start of the off-season. He has to go to physical therapy sessions for a month, and Sawamura has made it his personal mission to make sure that Kazuya goes there every morning before he goes to his training camp. It’s nice to have someone take care of him when Kazuya’s so used to being alone his whole life. It’s new and somehow, he likes the way it sends both his heart and mind into a frenzy.

Kazuya really, really likes Sawamura Eijun.

But he’s not ready to tell it to his bestfriend. Not when he’s not even sure if he has a chance. What if his bestfriend is not even into guys? He’s sure that Sawamura isn’t a homophobic because his personality just shines through – he’s too kind to be judgmental about that. Yet, Kazuya doesn’t know if Sawamura even likes guys. He can’t ruin their friendship just because he wants them to be together.

“Look at this, Miyuki!” shouts Eijun as he plops down next to Kazuya. He hands Kazuya a magazine filled with information about the new season and the new drafted players for the team. “I can’t believe Yui Kaoru and Masashi are in the same team! And they’re in the lineup now! They’re your former teammates, right? They’re really good!”

“Fukuoka Softbank Hawks, huh?”

Sawamura nods fervently. “It’s great, isn’t it?! We get to play with them on the field! I met them on my last year in high school. They’re really nice!”

“How about the pitcher Asada Hirofumi? Was it mentioned there?”

Sawamura huffs and frowns. “No, he told the reporters last year that he’s going to go to college first before he decides if he’s joining the pro leagues. Seto-shounen said the same thing.”

“No wonder Okumura is bummed,” says Kazuya knowingly. “I’ll pay anything to see them in rival teams.”

“Don’t be like that,” chastises Sawamura, his mouth forming into a pout that Kazuya desperately stops himself from staring at. “Okumura-shounen deserves to have Seto-shounen as his teammate.”

Kazuya snorts. “You don’t need a new shortstop in your team. What you need are batters. Your coach would prioritize power hitters in the draft. Not to mention he’s already probably eyeing the new hotshot cleanup from Yakushi High.”

Sawamura widens his eyes. “How do you know that?!” he demands.

“Hahaha! It’s easy when you’re paying attention to the kinds of players teams have in their lineups.” Kazuya pushes his glasses up and flips through the magazine. “You already completed their pitching lineup so they need to fill their batters now.”

“Seto-shounen is a good batter though,” he insists.

Kazuya sends Sawamura a shit-eating grin. “Yes, but he’s not a power hitter, something that your coach would prefer to have.”

“I hate how smart and right you are,” grumbles Sawamura.

“Aww, thank you, Sawamura. Glad to know you love me.”

Sawamura bristles. “Jerk.”

The next days are easier for Kazuya as he spends his time recuperating with his physical therapy sessions. It sucks when he keeps seeing his catcher’s mitt at his bedroom – he feels his fingers clenching, clamoring for a way to finally catch a pitch, any pitch, because he misses it so much. But Sawamura keeps him company every night, asking him about his day went while he makes him listen to his stories about his own training camp and their ‘demon coach’ as he likes to call him. Kazuya notices that Sawamura refrains from telling him important information that Kazuya can use against their team – he realizes that Sawamura is not as stupid as people make him out to be.

Kazuya’s chest warms whenever he sees Sawamura buying him groceries and arranging them on his cupboards and refrigerator. He watches the way Sawamura frowns in concentration as he tries to figure out the best way to organize everything. Kazuya appreciates how the pitcher remembers his obsession for keeping things organized and neat.

“Where should I put your extra condiments?” asks Sawamura, biting his lip. Kazuya watches the lips move before averting his eyes. “Should I place it inside this cupboard?”

“Second cupboard,” croaks out Kazuya, ignoring the clenching inside his stomach.

Kazuya has also been proven incapacitated enough to not be able to take a bath alone with his shoulder still healing despite the lack of sling so Sawamura assists him every morning to make sure he doesn’t hurt his shoulder. He watches as Sawamura fills the bath tub with soap and water, waddling his fingers inside to check if the temperature is just warm enough for Kazuya. He nods fervently when it’s just the right warmth, beckoning Kazuya to step inside. Sawamura averts his eyes when Kazuya removes the towel wrapped around his waist and steps into the water, sitting down with a relieved sigh.

“Did I do well?” he asks.

Kazuya smiles at him. “Sure. It’s nice.”

Sawamura’s cheeks flushed and he sends him a small smile. “Now, let’s clean your hair now, shall we?”

“Why don’t you just join me instead?” teases Kazuya, wiggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly.

Sawamura squawks and smacks him at the back, making Kazuya wince. “You pervert! Take this seriously, you jerk!”

Kazuya laughs. “Alright, alright. My shampoo is at the topmost corner.”

“Oh.” Sawamura points at a silver bottle. “This one?”

“Yeah.”

Kazuya closes his eyes as he feels hands carding through his hair and massaging gently at his scalp. It feels comforting and relaxing, though he can’t help but fear the responses his body has towards the touch. After lathering his hair with shampoo and rinsing it, Sawamura combs his fingers on the strands and asks, “Are you done or do you want to stay here for a bit?”

“I think I’m done for now,” says Kazuya.

Sawamura pulls out Kazuya’s towel. “Wait a minute, Miyuki.”

Kazuya is surprised when Sawamura suddenly drops the towel in his head, wiping his hair while he hums a tune Kazuya doesn’t recognize. He takes his time, making sure Kazuya’s hair is not dripping wet, before turning around.

“You can get out now.”

“Are you sure you’re not going to help me?” Kazuya stifles a chuckle. “I have an injury, remember?”

Flustered, Sawamura makes out a small, “Fine!” before hesitatingly walking towards Kazuya, letting the latter grab his arm as Kazuya steps out of the bath tub. Kazuya almost slips, but Sawamura steadies his arm by gripping it tightly. Kazuya bites his lip to prevent himself from saying stupid as he sees the pitcher avert his eyes while he helps him put on his towel around his waist.

“You still have to help me put on my clothes,” teases Kazuya with a smug look on his face.

Sawamura sputters. “I know, you bastard! You don’t have to remind me.” Then, his cheeks turn rosy red. “Hey! You don’t have a sling now, bastard!”

On some days, Sawamura offers to massage his shoulders to alleviate the soreness and tight knots. Kazuya will try to refuse, despite his desire to agree on the request, but Sawamura’s stubbornness will bulldoze over Kazuya’s already weak heart, making him relent and just let the pitcher do what he wants.

Kazuya tries not to moan when the pitcher kneads his flesh gently. “H-h-how do you know how to do this?”

“Research,” supplies Sawamura. “I want to make you feel better since you’re always scrunching your eyebrows and wincing whenever you move your body. Does your shoulder still hurt a lot?”

“Not that much anymore.” Kazuya squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the warmth and comfort of the touch, the relief when the hands undo all the knots on his shoulders. It’s painful at first, but it slowly gradually dissipates into a comfortable feeling.

“You visited your teammates a while ago, didn’t you?” asks Sawamura.

Kazuya opens his eyes and turns his head towards him. “How did you know – Aah!”

“Don’t move,” scolds Sawamura, clicking his tongue. “You look like you’re missing the baseball field. Don’t worry, Miyuki Kazuya! You’ll be back on the field in no time.”

Kazuya sighs. “Still calling me by my full name, Eijun?”

Sawamura freezes and stutters, “E-E-Eijun?”

“Oi.” A tick appears on Kazuya’s forehead. “We’re friends for a long time now and you’re still not showing me respect. And why are you still calling me by my last name when we used to call each other by our first names? Are you acting like Kuramochi now?”

Sawamura exhales loudly. “Then, I’ll call you Kazuya.”

“Kazuya-senpai.”

“Kazuya.”

“Kazuya.”

“Kazuya-senpai.”

Kazuya snickers. “Got you there.”

Sawamura shakes him from behind. “You tricked me, tanuki bastard! Now, stop moving so I can finish massaging your shoulders. I wonder how Kuramochi-senpai can put up with you.”

Kazuya agrees. “He’s a force to be reckoned with.”

There are times when insecurities creep through Kazuya’s mind and tell him that he can’t go back to the field anymore. His mind replays the vivid image of the day he got the injury even in his dreams, and it turns into nightmares that wakes him up at night, sweating profusely with heavy breaths, chest constricting painfully. Sawamura will slam his door open and wrap his arms around him, rubbing his head and back to keep him calm. He’ll whisper comforting words, telling Kazuya about how good he is of a catcher, how his teammates are waiting for him on the field because they believe he’ll pull through and get back there, how he is waiting for Kazuya to go back because he loves pitching to strong and exciting batters like him. Kazuya will whisper a weak ‘thank you’ and wrap his arms around back, basking in the warmth offered by his bestfriend. It somehow makes him think about how lucky he is to have met Sawamura years ago, when he’s still young and small, because he’s been there for him since. And he’s lucky they’re close again now because Kazuya doubts that he can get through this alone without his thoughts taking over him.

“You’re really a handful to take care of,” says Sawamura but his tone is soft and fond that Kazuya can’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, the pitcher feels the same thing Kazuya feels.

“Sorry for being a burden,” he replies with a sheepish smile.

“You’re a jerk, but you’re not a burden to me.” Sawamura gazes at him determinedly, his lips curved into a bright smile. “Didn’t you remember what happened when I had the yips? You were the reason why I kept going. You even called Chris-senpai to help me. And I can’t really imagine how I can even repay the gifts you keep sending. That was too much, you know. I’m glad I discovered Okumura’s phone that day because if I haven’t, I wouldn’t be able to repay you right now.”

Kazuya feels his face warm. “It’s nothing. I’m sure you would’ve done the same. Probably even more than what I did.”

“But it’s different, isn’t it? That it’s you.” Sawamura looks at him pointedly. “I mean, Kuramochi-senpai even told me how hard it is for you to open up and be honest, much less show how much you care about someone. So, don’t blame me if I feel so happy that you’re letting me in.”

“You’re so shameless, Eijun.”

Sawamura sticks his tongue out. “You always ruin the mood, Kazuya.”

Kazuya smirks at him. “Thank you!”

“Not a compliment, tanuki bastard.”

And soon enough, Sawamura’s training camp ends. Kazuya reluctantly lets him leave, though he makes sure that his disappointment is not written in his face. A part of him suspiciously thinks that Sawamura can see right through him though. Kazuya returns to their field a few days later. Hongou asks if he can pitch to him since he wants to make sure he’s not lacking. Kazuya snorts and agrees, not bothering to tease the pitcher for his not-so-subtle way of asking if Kazuya is already alright.

Kazuya feels the same thrill rush inside his body when he punches his mitt and signs. He revels at the way Hongou winds up on the mound, seeing the familiar intense eyes gazing at his mitt. Hongou throws the pitch, a hurling ball towards Kazuya and he catches it with a loud smack, the sound penetrating to his chest. This is what he loves about baseball. This is why he needs this in his life.

When Kazuya receives the news that he’s still the main catcher for the next season and receives an ‘I told you so’ texts from Kuramochi and Sawamura, his cheeks hurt from too much smiling. He can’t wait to play again.

foul

Sawamura continues to bombard Kazuya’s phone with texts a few weeks before the season starts.

It’s not something new to Kazuya. He has already endured the barrage of texts Mei used to send him to tell him of his new conquests on the field, and by the field, Kazuya know that Mei is not talking about baseball. He wonders if Tadano can make Mei settle down, though judging by how the circumstances is, it’s highly likely that Mei is in for the long haul.

Sometimes, he and Sawamura end up in a video call with Kuramochi because the two had somehow made it their mission to make sure Kazuya is doing fine.

“You should try not to overdo your throws with your left shoulder, Kazuya,” says Sawamura as he wrinkles his nose. “We can’t have you worsening your shoulder now, can we?”

“It’s already healed,” deadpans Kazuya, scrunching his eyebrows at the blurring screens. It’s a shame he can’t see Sawamura clearly on the camera.

“Oi, oi, asshole, the kid is right.” Kuramochi shakes his head. “You really should be paying attention to yourself. God knows how neglectful you are to your health.”

“As if you aren’t with yours, Mochi,” snarks Kazuya, watching in glee as the shortstop yells curses at him on the screen. It’s fun to rile up both Kuramochi and Sawamura, especially since he always sees them conspiring against him on their chats. Kazuya is really grateful that he has friends like this. He wonders if he actually deserved this.

“Aren’t you excited to go back to the field, Kazuya?” asks Sawamura excitedly. “I can’t wait to finally have my revenge on your team.”

“Hey, don’t count me out!” complains Kuramochi. “I still have to quench my thirst for revenge to both of you. I can’t wait to destroy you both on the field.”

Kazuya snorts. “Say it when you actually mean it, Mochi. I’m pretty sure you haven’t scored against my pitchers in the last seasons. Where’s the skill you’ve been bragging about, huh?”

“Give me a break.” Kuramochi scowls at him. “I’ll make sure to give you a taste of your own medicine in our next match.”

The next day, Kazuya sprints towards the catcher’s box, looking forward to their game with Saitama Seibu Lions. Saitama is known for their base running, reminding Kazuya of Hakuryuu’s team. He’s expecting to face a lot of batters with fast running time. Kazuya has to trust his shoulder for this. He has lost a few seconds of speed due to his injury. Even his recovery can’t give that back to him easily.

Exhaling loudly, he crouches and looks at Hongou.

Hongou still trusts him despite his three-month absence on the team. Maybe Kazuya has underestimated himself, has underestimated his team. He has not realized how much his teammates actually respect him inside the field. He hasn’t seen how much they trust him enough to pull them out of a pinch. Hell, even their captain who is a thousand times better than Kazuya will ever be as a person trusts him.

This urges Kazuya to move forward. It isn’t the time to doubt himself right now. This is him – who he is, inside the field, reveling at the challenge and uncertainty. He loves the feeling of exhilaration everytime a batter surprises him. He loves the sound of the ball smacking his mitt. He loves using his mind to mess with the batters.

This is who Miyuki Kazuya is.

He signs. Hongou throws.

It’s a cycle of catch and throw, a work of art, an infinite loop that only stops when the last batter strikes out. It’s the joy of striking someone out. Kazuya feels his heart pounding wildly inside his chest when he catches the first pitch in a game after three months of disappearing from the field. It flows through his skin, his chest, his body, filling him with warmth and excitement that he hasn’t experienced for weeks.

Kazuya looks at the stands and sees Sawamura waving at him with his pumped fist raised.

He grins and looks at the batter.

Striking batters out has never been more exciting than this.

hit

Kazuya drinks the last of his beer. “Yo, Mochi.”

Kuramochi looks at him. “What? Don’t tell me you want another beer? What the fuck, man! Stop drinking.”

Kazuya slurs, his eyes blurring. “I’ve decided to confess when we win the series.”

“Miyu – Wait, are you serious?” Kuramochi widens his eyes. “You’re serious. You’re fucking serious. Fuck.”

v. home plate

The third base runner prepares to sprint to the home plate. The next batter steps out, looking at the third base runner, before hoisting his bat on his shoulders. The pitcher throws the ball and the batter swings and misses. Then, the batter fouls the next pitch. “Ball!” calls out the umpire when the next pitch is also thrown. The batter fouls the fourth pitch. Then, he hits and sprints to first base. The third base runner can’t move. Smirking, the pitcher intimidatingly gazes at the next batter. The batter hoists his bat and waits for the pitch. The pitcher throws and the batter hits. Home run. 6 – 7. Game set.

run

This is Kazuya’s last chance. The last inning. He has to hit if he wants their team to win. Hanshin Tigers is up by one run and Kazuya needs to turn this game around. For two reasons. To win for the team. To confess to Sawamura Eijun.

Shit, Kazuya really needs to win this.

Kazuya hoists his bat and starts to relax his shoulders. He has already practiced hitting this a lot of times, so Kazuya should be fine. He just needs to calm down and think carefully before hitting the pitch. And if it’s a ball, he won’t swing.

Sawamura raises his right leg and whips his arm, the ball leaving his fingers and hurling towards Kazuya. He swings and it launches towards the foul territory. Clicking his tongue, Kazuya positions himself again and concentrates. He fouls the next pitch, almost jamming it but his reflexes saved him.

Kazuya sweatdrops.

Sawamura nods at his catcher and throws.

Kazuya swings the bat with all his power, but the pitch breaks before his bat can make contact, and it reaches the catcher’s mitt behind him. The sound reverberates inside the stadium, and all people from the other side erupt into cheers when the umpire yells, “Strike! Batter out! Game set. Hanshin Tigers wins.”

Kazuya lowers his eyes on the ground. They lost.

home run

Kazuya’s hands are sweating in his pockets as he waits for the pitcher in front of him to say something. He’s been robbed off the chance to ask Sawamura out since he didn’t win the series. Maybe he’s just really a coward, but he can’t come up with the courage to ask the pitcher out now that he’s in front of him.

“Uh, Kazuya,” starts Sawamura, his fingers fidgeting. “I want to ask you something.”

Kazuya furrows his eyebrows. “What is it?”

Sawamura scratches his cheeks and looks at him. “You know, I made a promise to myself that I’ll do something if our team wins the series.”

Kazuya looks at Sawamura curiously. He wonders what the pitcher has to say, what his bestfriend has to say to him. Maybe Sawamura wants to go somewhere. Or maybe he’s about to open up about something important. Either way, whatever it is, Kazuya is ready to listen. Even if a part of him is urging to confess his feelings.

“Kazuya, I’m not sure if I’m reading this wrong or if I’m only assuming a lot of things, but I…” Sawamura clenches his fists on his sides. “I like you a lot, Miyuki Kazuya. Please go out with me.”

Kazuya’s heart lurches and he stops – stares back at the eyes gazing at him determinedly. He remembers everything at that moment. Sawamura has been the first pillar he has leaned on when he was younger. Sawamura somehow finds a way to come back in his life and become his pillar again in times that he needed him. And at the same time, Kazuya learns too. He learns how to be a pillar for someone else. How to rely and be relied on. Kazuya already has no choice since the beginning. Of course, he has to answer –

“Yes.”

Sawamura widens his eyes and dumbly gapes at him. “Huh?”

Kazuya shakes his head in amusement and cups the pitcher’s cheeks fondly. “I said yes, Eijun.”

“You s-s-said y-y-yes?” asks Sawamura in disbelief, his lips wobbling.

Kazuya nods, pressing his forehead on Sawamura’s, their noses touching. “I like you too, Sawamura Eijun.”

Sawamura wraps his arms around him and surges forward, pressing his lips on his. Kazuya’s heart erupts into erratic heartbeats, his cheeks warming as he presses his lips back, tasting the sweetest victory in the lips touching his own. Nothing can ever compare.

game set

MISAWA RIVALRY ENSUES: WHAT TO EXPECT NEXT SEASON?

After this season’s series, it’s been clear towards many fans about this new rivalry gaining attention inside the field. Miyuki Kazuya, the main catcher of Yakult Swallows, and Sawamura Eijun, the new ace pitcher of Hanshin Tigers, are finally having a head-to-head battle next year to fight for the top. Want to know more about this rivalry? Click the link below:

http://bit.ly/MisawaRivalry

@mochi4life

AHJAHJHJHSAWDJHSJA the tension oh my GOD

@misawabattery

I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THEM ON THE FIELD <3

@lolololol444

I’m betting they’re actually dating. HAVE YOU SEEN THOSE LOOKS?!

@realnarumiyamei

I wonder why Kazuya hasn’t mentioned this to me that bastard

@misawahatersjustleave

I NEED THEM TO BE TOGETHER PLEASE SOMEONE CONFIRM

Omake:

Youichi gags and rolls his eyes when he sees Miyuki and Sawamura nuzzling at each other and cuddling on the couch, his couch to be exact. It’s too much for him to deal with this. They’re bestfriends but goddamn, he needs a break from these two. Too tired and needing a break. Youichi sighs and gives up. He pulls out his phone and does something that he might regret later, but all in a day’s work. A flash followed by a string of curses from the battery fills Youichi with satisfaction as he opens his Twitter app, making sure to put the picture he took while he stifles an evil laugh.

@realkuramochiyouichi

 disgusting lovesick fools I tell ya #MISAWARIVALRY

A few seconds later, the online community explodes into chaos.