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"Augghh," Hamada groaned as he carried the water cooler with Shinooka towards the dugout. "It's so hot I think I'm going to puke."
"It is supposed to hit triple digits today," the girl replied, goodnaturedly. After two years as the baseball club's manager she was used to the crudeness of high school boys.
"I should've worn shorts like you," the blonde said as they dropped the cooler under the awning. "At least I could've gotten color on these pasty chicken legs."
Behind them, Momoe climbed into the dugout with her hands on her hips. Overlooking the cooler, she noted that it along with the other three, it should be enough to quench the thirst of two teams of high school baseball players. Over her shoulder, she watched as Nishiura and Musashino’s players continued their joint practice.
“Do you think we should call them over?” Shinooka asked the coach who turned to the manager with a smile.
“Nah,” she answered casually, causing Hamada to feel a strange pang of sympathy for players. “I think we should let them sweat a little more - it’ll make them really appreciate it.”
Meanwhile on the field, most players had paired with their school’s alternative to go through drills and exercises together. This appeared to be a great learning experience for everyone except for Abe who currently looked like he was going to murder someone, namely Haruna Motoki.
“Hey, Mihashi,” Haruna said and the light-haired boy bristled like a cat before turning to the taller pitcher. “I see you’re still trying to figure out your stance. Here, try setting your back foot here.”
Abe’s jaw clenched and he was happy his mask hid most of his face. The burning feeling he felt in his veins was not jealousy, it was annoyance. Extreme, unadulterated annoyance at Haruna who was the most obnoxious human being alive and was currently trying to bog up Mihashi’s pitching stance although they had worked together the entire summer to master his current stance. Not that it mattered to Mihashi, who looked up at Haruna as if anything that came out of his mouth was sacred.
“Oi, Takaya!”
Growing more irritated he barked his “WHAT?!” like a dog.
“Mihashi here is gonna try to throw with his improved stance,” Haruna smiled, seemingly unfazed by Abe’s annoyance. “So try to catch it without getting hurt, okay?”
Abe didn’t reply, because he was smarter than that. His reply was a fist to the cocky pitcher’s face and he didn’t feel like getting suspended from the team after being gone for so long with his knee injury. Next to Haruna, Mihashi blinked a few times before turning to meet Abe’s eyes, and suddenly everything was a little bit more bearable.
“Y-you ready...Abe-kun?” he called and from being his mask Abe nodded, mit held up to catch whatever Mihashi tossed, like he always had.
“Yeah, go for it.”
The ball hit his mit hard, but he caught it. Even though the tweaks to his stance left him looking uncomfortable, Mihashi’s control was still unstoppable.
“You should take some notes, Haruna,” Abe called as he tossed the ball back to Mihashi. “Could help you if you could actually hit the strike zone.”
Haruna’s face twisted into a scowl. He was about to shoot back with a comeback when he was interrupted by Momoe calling for a water break. Throwing his arm over Mihashi’s shoulder, Haruna led the smaller pitcher towards the dugout as Abe pulled off his helmet, his face sour.
“Hey, you look like you just smelled a fart!” Tajima laughed as he whacked the catcher in the back goodnaturedly before making his way towards the dugout. “Cheer up, dude, or your face is going to get even more pissed off looking!”
Abe grumbled a response, but Tajima didn’t care to listen as he was already reaching for a cup for water. He felt a hand on his shoulder and Abe looked up to see that it was Hanai, who actually seemed concerned.
“Yo, what’s with you today?” he said as Abe shrugged off his hand as he made his way to the dugout. “I know Haruna gets on your nerves, but you look downright pissed out there.”
“I’m fine,” Abe grunted as he marched off towards the dugout, trying everything in his power to not look at Haruna and Mihashi chitchatting over their cups of water. Hanai must’ve noticed as he rolled his eyes and said loudly, “You look like a jealous girlfriend.”
Abe ignored him and grabbed a cup from Shinooka so roughly that he actually mumbled an apology to the girl. It wasn’t her fault that he was in a bad mood - that responsibility laid on someone else's shoulders.
"A-Abe-kun," he heared and turned to see Mihashi, eyes bright as he attempted to contain his excitement. "Am I...am I doing well?"
Abe felt his chest burn, knowing that he couldn't outwardly scold Mihashi anymore (those days had long since past) and instead turned away with a shrug.
"Just make sure you keep control," he said, unable to make eye contact with the smaller boy. "You know how much I hate getting hit."
"Oh...r-right." Mihashi replied as Abe downed the rest of his water and walked over to talk to Hamada. On his shoulder, Mihashi felt Haruna's arm swing across it.
"He's still as moody as ever," the older boy joked, as Mihashi's face twisted into a concerned frown.
They returned to practice shortly after, and with every pitch Mihashi threw with the help of Haruna, Abe felt his skin prickle.
“Oi, Abe!”
Hearing his name, the catcher gave the pitchers the universal sign for “time-out” and stood up, pulling his mask over his head to see why Tajima was calling him. Still at the mound, Haruna turned to Mihashi to go over his improved wind-up.
“Make sure to watch your balance,” the taller boy said, pointing to Mihashi’s legs. “Pay attention to your width since a wide stance makes it difficult to get balanced and stay balanced.”
Nodding nervously, Mihashi moved his legs closer together barely an inch causing Haruna to laugh good naturedly. The light-haired boy’s knees buckled like a newborn calf as he tried to keep a grip on the dirt with his cleats.
“You’re still too far apart,” he said, pointing to the dirt. “You’re gonna lose your balance if you try to pitch.”
“W-will...I?” Mihashi asked, ball in hand as he readjusted his stance as if to throw it across the mound. However, Haruna was right and shortly after winding up, Mihashi lost his balance, falling face first into the dirt and inadvertently throwing the ball. Seeing that Abe’s head was still turned towards Tajima, Haruna yelled for his attention.
“TAKAYA, HEADS!” he shouted, though all it managed to do was to redirect the catcher’s attention towards the ball as it hit him straight it in the throat. The speed of the ball knocking him backwards, his equipment clattered as he landed into the dirt.
“A-ABE-KUN!” Mihashi yelled, tripping over his own feet as he bolted across the field towards the catcher. Winded and hurt, Abe coughed as he attempted to regain composure as well as air in his lungs. Panicky, Mihashi reached out in hopes of aiding the boy, but Abe swatted him away. Within seconds, Shiga and Momoe ran over, pushing back the crowd of teenaged boys back.
“Give him room!” Momoe ordered as Shiga took Abe into his arms and lifted the boy to sit up. “Stop crowding him!”
“Abe, you need to relax,” Shiga said as the boy still struggled to regulate his breathing. “Do you need us to call an ambulance?”
“N-no!” he choked out, gasping at the word. “I...I just...need to sit.”
“Alright,” Shiga said as he helped the boy to his feet as Hamada helped lead him into the dugout. Behind them, Momoe turned to Mihashi who was still sitting in the dirt, seemingly in shock.
“What the hell happened here?!” she barked at the boy, pointing to the ground. “Why the hell were you pitching when his equipment wasn’t on?!”
“I-I-I-I-” Mihashi stammered, tears in his eyes.
“What were you thinking, Mihashi?!”
“I-I-I-I-I-” the boy continued and Haruna knew there was no use trying to talk to boy and cleared his throat loudly.
“It’s my fault, Momoe-san,” the taller boy said, bowing deeply. “I was showing Mihashi how to improve his stance and he lost his balance and accidently threw the ball while Abe wasn’t paying attention. I take full responsibility.”
The boys from both team stared at Haruna, blinking as their attention changed from the pitcher to Abe who was sitting in the dugout, his face as sour as always as he pressed an icepack to his throat. A heavy silence washed over the field as Momoe rose back to her full height, turning to the boy, who was still bowing.
“There’s not much I can do since I’m not your coach,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “But I appreciate you coming forward. It’s good sportsmanship.”
“Oh,” Haruna said, rising back up. “I...I see. Apologies, again.”
The woman nodded before barking at the rest of the boys to get back to position and chasing a few of the stragglers to the bases. Looking down, Haruna saw Mihashi still on the ground, tears cascading down his face as he sniffled loudly. Uncomfortably, Haruna extended his hand to the other boy.
“Hey,” Haruna ordered when Mihashi didn’t noticed his hand at first. Jumping up, the tiny pitcher looked around nervously, as if unable to spot where the source of Haruna’s voice was coming from. “C’mon, let’s go see Takaya.”
Slowly, Mihashi nodded, taking Haruna’s hand and allowing himself to be pulled up to his feet. Once standing, he slowly followed the taller boy towards the dugout where Shiga and Hamada were sitting on either sides of the catcher. Sitting on the bench, Abe’s face looked tense as he pressed an ice-pack to his throat.
“Um...hey, Takaya,” Haruna said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You okay?”
Abe’s eyes narrowed as he remained silent, the ice still pressed against his skin. Behind him, Haruna heard Mihashi’s whimpering, obviously upset. Or having a panic attack - he wasn’t really sure.
“Listen, I know you’re pissed,” the taller boy said with a sigh, leaning on his back leg to rest his hand on his hip. "But I just wanted you to know that I was the one who told Mihashi to practice that wind-up. He didn’t mean to hit you.”
There was silence and in his shadow on the dirt, Haruna saw Mihashi peek out from behind him. Abe’s eyes instantly met those of the fairer boy, who noticeably stiffened
“So...yeah,” he finished. “I’m sorry.”
Taking a deep sigh, Shiga rose to his feet. Dusting off his jeans, he turned to Haruna.
“Well, Haruna-san, thank you for apologizing,” he said, resting a hand on the teen’s shoulder affectionately. “Let’s head back to practice.”
“Um...yeah.”
“Hamada, you too,” Shiga said as the blonde boy stood at full attention. “Mihashi? Do you mind making sure Abe can get home alright?”
“H-home?” the pitcher said, his voice hoarse from lack of use.
“Yes, it only seems like a bad bruise, but I think taking the rest of the practice off is a good idea,” the man smiled, turning on his heel with the other two teens. “We’ll see you boys tomorrow.”
“Oh...um...y-yes,” Mihashi said with a small nervous wave before turning to his teammate. Grabbing his bag from the dugout, he watched as Abe threw his own over his shoulder, ice pack still in hand. “Abe?”
He was ignored, the other boy stomping off up and off the field. Scrambling to catch up, Mihashi jogged around the fence of the field and up the hill. Walking a good four steps behind the catcher, Mihashi clutched his bag tightly to his shoulder as he followed Abe home.
"Um...y-you didn't bike t-today?" he stammered, attempting to make conversation.
Abe continued to ignore him, seemingly more interested in staring ahead as the cold drops of melted ice-water rolled down his throat and beneath his practice uniform. The heat of the afternoon sun warmed the back of the boys’ necks, sweat beginning to build on their hairlines. Climbing up to the top of a grassy hill, Mihashi recognized the location as a shortcut to Abe's house, obviously hoping to get home and away from the pitcher as quickly as possible. He couldn't help but feel dejected.
“A-Abe-kun!” he finally said, running up behind the boy to catch his free wrist in his own hand. Blinking nervously, he watched as the taller boy turned around, eyes wide. “Just...talk to me...p-please!”
Swallowing hard, the taller boy’s jaw clenched as another drop of water ran down his skin. Mihashi took a deep breath, watching as the drop traveled down the tanned skin of his catcher, weaving beneath his collarbone before disappearing underneath the fabric of his shirt. When he looked up, he noticed that Abe was closer to him than he was before.
“I told you,” Abe growled, his voice still hoarse from the injury. He pulled his wrist forward sharply, dragging Mihashi with him so they were nose-to-nose. “I hate getting hit.”
Mihashi trembled, nodding quickly as he felt Abe’s breath on his lips. He felt his ears begin to warm, “I-I’m so-”
“You think throwing like him will make you an ace?!” Abe growled again his voice louder, interrupting Mihashi mid-stammer. “You think losing control and throwing like a maniac will win you games?!”
“I-I j-just-”
“Do you know what that shit does?” Abe was nearly screaming at this point, throwing aside the now completing melted ice pack to reveal the now redding bruise.
Mihashi’s breath hitched in his throat, his grip on Abe’s wrist loosening as he reached forward slowly. He watched the catcher carefully, the calloused tips of his fingers touched the swollen skin lightly. Abe remained still as Mihashi’s feather-like touches graced the injury.
“I can...see the seams,” his voice was barely a whisper, his eyes looking up through his eyelashes to met the other’s glance.
“It leaves marks…” Abe replied, and Mihashi knew he wasn’t talking about baseball.
Exhaling slowly, Mihashi felt his shoulders slump as if all the air in his body had been released. He felt like a rag-doll as the bones in body melted into jelly.
“I’m...so sorry, Abe-kun.”
“...Takaya,” the other boy corrected and Mihashi felt a bit of life return to his body. “I told you….when we’re alone it’s Takaya.”
“R-right,” the smaller boy said, moving closer to the catcher. “I’m so sorry, T-Takaya.”
Abe looked away, his cheeks reddening as Mihashi moved even closer, until his lips were ghosting acrossed the bruised skin of his neck.
“Ren…” he exhaled as the pitcher placed light kisses along the tenderness, his chapped lips sticking slightly to the sweaty skin.
“N-never again,” Mihashi whispered as his kisses trailed upwards, along Abe’s jawline and up to his ear. “I p-promise.”
“I don’t like feeling that way,” Abe said, feeling his face warm as he attempted to ignore Mihashi’s ministrations. He felt the other’s strong hands take his own, fingers interlocking. “Like I...don’t matter.”
“Takaya…” Mihashi breathed again and Abe can’t tell if it’s a sigh or a sob.
“I also hate Haruna,” Abe mumbled and he felt Mihashi vibrate against him. “He’s a shitty pitcher and you shouldn’t listen to him anymore.”
“Only Takaya?” Mihashi said into his ear and Abe can tell he’s being playful.
“Yes,” he said, turning to face the pitcher, though the motion makes his throat sting. “Only Takaya.”
Mihashi pulled away to straighten Abe’s neck with his hands, both boys making eye contact as they stood, sweaty and dirty, in the heat. Lifting himself on his toes, the lighter-haired boy leaned forward to kiss the catcher slowly, lovingly, completely. Putting everything he wants to say but can’t, into the kiss. When he pulls away, he doesn’t move far.
“Only Takaya,” he repeated, and Abe knows he wasn’t talking about baseball.