Chapter Text
The moment he came to the realization wasn’t really a grand one. Or maybe it was? It probably depends on how you look at it.
It was Game 7 of the 2018 Nippon Series: Yomiuri Giants VS Fukuoka Softbank Hawks. The Giants were up by one run in the 9th inning. The count was 2 strikes, 1 ball. They were an out away. One out away from winning it all.
Miyuki’s heart was pounding hard in his chest, adrenalin running through his veins. There was a runner on second. A hit would tie the game. A homerun would turn things around. It wasn’t exactly an uncommon turn of events in baseball. However, with Sawamura Eijun pitching possibly one of the best games of his career, he couldn’t help but feel invincible.
He made a call for a 2-seamer on the outside corner, only barely missing the strike zone. The batter would be doing them a big favor if he swung on it. But if he didn’t, they still had two balls to work with.
Sawamura nodded from the mound.
The pitch looked good right until it reached the plate.
It’s not dropping!
That familiar sound of the ball hitting the bat almost made his heart beat right out of his chest.
FOUL!
Maybe he was imagining it but he thought he could hear the collective sigh of relief that came from the dugout. The ball Sawamura pitched definitely didn’t go where he wanted, not to mention the lack of break and drop. It was basically a pitch right the down the middle. Thankfully, the batter only fouled that uncharacteristically easy pitch from their southpaw.
“Time out.” He called. Eijun still had speed but his control was teetering. It was definitely signs that he was tensing up.
The umpire nodded and signaled for a time out.
"I know what you’re gonna say.” Eijun said as Miyuki reached the mound.
“Oh? You do?”
“You’re probably gonna nag me about being too tense. It’s frustrating! Even I know that that pitch was bad!” The pitcher was actually pouting. Their ace and an admired pro-baseball player was pouting like a kid during one of the most important games of their careers.
How amusing.
Miyuki grinned.
“I was actually gonna say that I trust you to win this for us but I guess I’m not going to anymore since you claim to know what I was gonna say anyway.”
“MIYUKI KAZUYA!” The pitcher exclaimed.
He laughed behind his mitt. Riling up Eijun was always entertaining. But they had a game to win. And they need their ace to do it.
Eijun was the Giants’ undisputed ace but he had a tendency to get insecure sometimes. With all the amazing pitchers around him as early as his Seido days, the southpaw had to fight tooth and nail to even be noticed, to be more than a relief pitcher. He used the competition as motivation to keep getting better but of course, it had come with some negative effects too such as the constant doubt and frustration. With a monster like Furuya in the same year as him, he’d bet nobody thought the lively, resident loud-mouth would become Seido’s ace. There may even be a point where Eijun started to doubt himself.
But in Miyuki’s last summer, the southpaw had shut them all up when he pitched, carrying the ace number on his back, and won Seido its first national championship.
Sawamura Eijun was no longer a diamond in the rough. He was a pure and polished diamond that shines unlike any other.
”You got this, Ace-sama.” He said with a teasing lilt to the ace part. “I believe in you. “ This time he was serious.
The pitcher’s eyes widened.
He pressed his catcher’s mitt onto Eijun’s chest as he’d done countless of times before. Miyuki could only hope that his eyes spoke what his words couldn’t convey. Before Eijun even came close to being an ace, even when he could only throw that idiosyncratic moving fastball of his, Miyuki trusted him to give him his best pitch every time. He trusted him with his entire being. And he knows that Eijun feels the same.
The best pitch is a work of art between a pitcher and a catcher working as one.
And he’s proud to say that the art they’ve created as a battery is unrivaled.
No further words were exchanged as Miyuki went back to his position behind the plate.
Considering the situation, it was the perfect time to ask for Eijun’s specialty pitch that they developed way back in Seido. The pitch that eventually became Sawamura Eijun’s most aggressive pitch. The Cutter Custom.
He makes the sign. From the mound, Eijun smirks at him like he already expected that was what he as gonna ask for. He probably did. They sometimes worked that way.
You bastard. It’s just like you to ask for THAT as the final pitch.
I’m nothing if not aggressive. You should know that better than anyone.
He couldn’t help but smile behind the mask as he got in position behind the plate. He brings his mitt just below the batter’s chest. An aggressive inside pitch.
The southpaw starts winding up for the pitch with his peculiar form. Eijun’s intense golden gaze was aimed right at him and he thought ‘I want this. I want him. For the rest of my life.’
The thought surprised him. Amidst the roaring crowd, the cheers from his team mates, and the fact that they were just one out away from winning, all he could think about was that idea.
For the rest of my life huh?
The pitch broke sharply as expected. The sound when it landed in his mitt was unlike anything else. The batter couldn’t even swing. It was perfect.
STRIKE! BATTER OUT!
Eijun roared from the mound.
The next thing he knew, Eijun was jumping into his arms for a hug (more of a tackle, really) that almost made the both of them fall over.
He wanted to kiss him right there. He wanted to kiss those tears that were currently falling from those beautiful golden eyes.
They won. They were national champions. But somehow, it was an entirely different thought was making his heart beat faster than ever.
Looks like I have to get a ring.