Chapter Text
It was the rush of Isashiki Jun’s voice counting down from 60 seconds that always had the ability to pump Sawamura Eijun’s blood. He wouldn’t say it replaced the feeling of being out on the field, but it was the closest thing he had been able to find that matched the intensity.
“45 seconds out. Remember, Sawamura, HQ is only giving you one minute tops. No rambling this time, make it count!” Isashiki growled.
Behind Sawamura, he could hear the clink of balls making contact with metal bats mixed in with the chirping of morning birds. It was mid-march, the world was slowly crawling towards the end of preseason and towards the blooming of cherry blossoms. The three of them were huddled together on the side of some nondescript practice fields, to their right were other reporters on similar missions as their own.
At the call for thirty seconds until they were live, Kominato Haruichi made his final adjustments to the bulky camera that rested on his tiny shoulders. How the young man could stand still with that monstrosterous weight had been a long unsolved mystery for Sawamura.
“Sawamura, are you even paying attention? Your tie is crooked!” At Jun’s howl, Sawamura laughed loudly and flashed an easy smile.
“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I have everything I need to say memorized and ready to go. A crooked tie doesn’t diminish this cute face!”
“20 seconds!” Sawamura found his place in front of the camera lens and released a steady exhale. The brisk March wind brushed through his messy hair as he fought to suppress a chill that crawled under his sleek jacket.
At fifteen seconds, he turned on his earpiece to hear the live introduction from HQ. Head Anchor, Furuya Satoru droned on with a voice drenched in a need for sleep, “Now let’s turn to the Tokyo Dome campus, where Sawamura-San reports live at the Tokyo Yomiuri Giants’ spring training session—”
“And we’re live in five!” Jun said in front of him.
“Sawamura-San,” he heard Furuya begin over the earpiece, “How’s Kyojin shaping out on the ground?”
Jun gave a thumbs up and Haruichi’s camera flashed a white light. Sawamura’s stomach ignited with the fire of reporting live for thousands of avid sports fans across the country. All eyes were on him now, determination pulsed through his body.
“Good morning Tokyo!” His enthusiastic volume nearly knocked Haruichi over and Jun silently slapped a hand to his forehead, “Kyojin’s desire for victory is more evident than ever. After an upsetting loss in the Championship quarter finals, the team is out for blood. If only you could feel the energy on the field behind me right now!”
Just as that was said, loud cries were released from the professional team as they executed brutal conditioning drills. Sawamura broke out into his classic on camera-smile, “Woo, I hope you can hear that! I’m here today specifically to witness just how powerful the famous Narumiya/Miyuki battery has evolved since Narumiya Mei’s ankle injury last season. With two pre-season scrimmage wins and several more to come, Narumiya is making it known that he’s back and better than ever. Catcher Miyuki Kazuya is also coming out in top form today, showing the Pacific League precisely why he was recently named Japan’s pitcher of the year. Stay tuned throughout the following weeks as I continue to cover the anticipation for the upcoming season. Now back to you, Furuya!”
Jun gave a thumbs up and Sawamura ripped the earpiece out, breaking off the connection with the station.
“Jeez, what does one minute on air accomplish? I can’t even talk about what I ate for breakfast in that given time!”
“You know you’ll get more airtime during the season, Sawamura,” Haruichi said reassuringly as he placed the camera down.
Sawamura still felt the adrenaline rush that came as a side effect to reporting as he crouched down to help Haruichi clean up his electronic equipment. Jun suddenly squatted down beside him to give the reporter an animated pat on the back, “Producer texted me that you did a much better job today, you really kept your cool this time. No more meltdowns at the thought of being so close to Miyuki! Ha!”
Sawamura’s fists clenched at the thought of the recent incident. Not quite a meltdown, more like a deep expelling of joyful emotion. At a recent scrimmage, a batter popped a fly while Sawamura was reporting sideline. While for many the ball would’ve knocked an onlooker over, Sawamura had the advantage of years of baseball to catch the fly with a bare hand.
“Oi! Toss it back!” Miyuki had shouted from the box with the guard lifted from his face. The response was a thick clap of the ball hitting the catcher’s glove. Even from a distance, Sawamura remembered the quirk of Miyuki’s eyebrows in response. The game continued as if nothing had happened.
“Did you see that, Haruichi? Miyuki caught my toss! This is my dream come true! While it may not have been from the mound, I think I can die happily now—Oh! And we’re still airing live…”
Just at the memory, Sawamura broke out into a blush. It was moments of lapsed judgement such as that that had helped to propel Sawamura quickly up the ranks at TV Sports Tokyo. His erratic but kindhearted reporting of baseball alongside his enthusiastic online Twitter presence allowed for Sawamura to gain a well respected and reputable following. While he hadn’t yet gotten the promotion to anchor a show like his colleague and former college teammate, Furuya, Sawamura had the great fortune of traveling across the country to interview professional baseball athletes he had deeply admired his entire life.
“The producer wants us back at HQ before their primetime broadcast to run over next week’s schedule. She said that they want Sawamura to do a segment…” But Sawamura had already lost attention listening to Jun, instead turning his head towards the shouting from the crowded practice field. The presence of Tokyo’s much loved baseball team was immense. Even standing behind the safety of a wire fence, Sawamura could feel the heat radiating off of the players as they practiced sprinting nearby the reporting team. Kyojin was notorious for their dynamic batting and calculated, merciless defending. Over the years, the team had a steady reputation for Championship qualifications and with the recent solidification of the Narumiya/Miyuki battery, they were quickly becoming forces to be reckoned with.
Sawamura’s eyes fell upon one half of the deadly duo as he came to a halt nearby. Miyuki doubled over in his renowned sick laughter, eyes crinkling behind his sports glasses, “Mochi-Kun! Who turned you into a snail? I bet you had too much fun again last night, it’s starting to show.”
“Shut up, Miyuki,” the shortstop huffed as he sprinted from base to base, “Quit making fun of people as an excuse to slack off!”
Miyuki’s gleeful laugh could be heard all the way over to Sawamura, resulting in the reporter’s cheeks to warm up in the early spring air.
“Stop drooling, Sawamura. You can look at loverboy at their next scrimmage,” Jun said as he pulled the young man away from the fence. Haruichi lightly chuckled besides them as he followed the duo to their company van. Sawamura looked at the team one last time as Jun hauled him inside the vehicle.
While the world had come to know Miyuki Kazuya at the beginning of his professional career five years ago, Sawamura had the chance to get a glimpse of the genius catcher the year prior to his sudden stardom. It had been a chance of luck, really. Sawamura had spent his adolescent years in the quiet countryside of Nagano, where he played as a catcher for a terrible middle school baseball team followed by a spot at a quaint high school nearby. It had by accident that Takashima Rei had happened upon Sawamura, later recruiting him to play for a decent college team with, unaware to Sawamara at the time, a phenomenal sports journalism program.
For the first time in his academic life, Sawamura was successful in something else besides pitching and began to see a new path open up before him. He began to split his time between his studies and baseball, resulting in a missed opportunity at being the schools ace with little remorse at all. It was at university that his team would have the sudden chance to play a scrimmage with one of the top universities in the country. Sawamura even recalled that he thought this would be an excellent opportunity to show a powerhouse school that they were not to be messed with.
They did, of course, get demolished and Sawamura did, of course, not have the chance to play until the final inning. But Sawamura did, however, find himself blown away by their opponent’s powerful second-year catcher, Miyuki Kazuya. He played with a presence Sawamura had never come across before and felt a strong need to have the man catch one of his pitches. Miyuki had the ability to keep a calm presence, helping to level out the nerves of his teammates and make winning calls. The success of the team was in Miyuki’s hands.
While Sawamura’s team was destined to lose, he was sent out to end the inning clean and quickly to aid his team’s wounded ego. His strong spirited pitching resulted in two strike-outs and ball out to outfield caught by a frustrated Furuya.
After the teams had lined up to shake hands, Sawamura felt an arm draped around his shoulder, “They should have put you in ages ago. Your pitch may be slow but there’s something odd to it.”
Sawamura glanced upward to see the sun reflected in sports glasses, the smell of detergent and sweat flooded his nose. Flustered at the proximity of the catcher, Sawamura found himself tongue tied, “W-well next time I’ll make you look like a little league player. I’ll make you wish you were the one on the other hand of my battery!”
Miyuki smiled darkly and walked away to join his other teammates, “I’ll look forward to that, kid.”
Only that opportunity never happened. Sawamura heard through the grapevine that the monster catcher graduated early at a rare opportunity from Kyojin and shortly after, he saw Miyuki make his professional debut on live TV. Sawamura knew the catcher had no recollection of their conversation, although it had been something he held onto fiercely as he entered the sports journalism world.
Now at 25, Sawamura felt the urge more now than ever to establish himself as a reporter in the baseball world. As Haruichi drove the van away from the practice field, Sawamura reminded himself just that, looking at the silhouette of the player and team he admired deeply recede from his line of vision.