Chapter Text
“Come to think of it, the first thing Sawamura always said to me was…” And Miyuki tilts his head back, a soft smile on his face that only Sawamura Eijun can bring -
“Take my hand, partner.” Of course this was only after Kazuya had said it to him first, so partially it's entirely his fault that Sawamura says it now and yet-
And yet... take his hand, Miyuki did.
Miyuki Kazuya was pretty sure his life was thrown upside down on purpose, maybe it was really an evil plot by Kuramochi to get back at him - who knows? What Kazuya does know, is when facing eyes that match his own - equal with burning dreams and goals - well… he can’t help but feel excited, the pinching sensation in his gut - the chills that spread across his skin like ice.
But ice would never be a word Kazuya would describe Eijun with.
“Miyuki!” Eijun called, eyes upturned into little slits like cute half moons in the night sky - and as a common grin stretched across his face - a toothy little thing that was so uniquely Sawamura Eijun -
Kazuya knew he never wanted to let go of these moments.
Huddled together, in their corner of their world, separated from their duties that called their names ever so diligently - forcing them to paint new scenarios in their minds - catcher and pitcher was an art, after all - something Sawamura had said, bathed in the light of the moon, and it looked painful, really, to be smiling that much. Sawamura probably had more muscles in his cheeks than he did his shoulder - to be honest, not that, that was a bad thing.
Kazuya, with fingers ever so dainty brushing tanned cheeks, knew it could never be a bad thing.
And as he leaned in, lips just a mere few inches away from Sawamura’s, it's the turning of the handle to his dorm room that sent him flying upright, and Sawamura reeling backwards - both of them picking up random devices. For Kazuya, it was a scorebook, for Sawamura, it was one of the mangas he brought with him.
“Sawamura?” Koushuu spoke, confusion lacing his voice - and Kazuya suddenly hated having to room with people again, missing the silent solace his humble abode used to be, without cocky little brats that eyed the sun like it was ever so obtainable - Kazuya couldn’t help his own glare that foamed over his face like the currents of the tide -
Kazuya found himself thinking, but saying in his clever roundabout way, you could never have him.
But the real reason Sawamura was in Miyuki’s room wasn’t because they wanted to play a game of hookie, and kiss each other and up and down - as much as Kazuya needed that, unfortunately, the real reason Sawamura Eijun was there was to discuss pitching, and the numbers, and all that usual catcher to pitcher, pitcher to catcher stuff -
But Kazuya could never settle for just the small box that the catcher was in, no, he always had to be more - obtain more - reach further and further - to be clean-up, to be captain - to maybe, one day, be Sawamura’s. Kazuya found it harder and harder to not be looking at the boy, the second year that shone like a star - a shit-eating grin he’d smile when receiving praise, but also the tense look he wore on his face when coach’s hand found itself in his hair - Kazuya didn’t want to admit he was jealous of the coach but…
Kazuya wanted to ruffle Sawamura’s hair, too.
Kazuya was captain though, and clean up, and the starting catcher, he could never afford to show such blatant feelings of favoritism - so he shot down Eijun like a bullet to a bird, sending the poor thing soaring straight into the ground. Eijun’s pure look of horror and - and rejection, it burned holes into Kazuya’s mind like omens - like promises, and Kazuya knew, deep within his chest, he never - never wanted to see Sawamura make faces like that -
The yip faces had been by far the worst, and the hardest to confront - and Kazuya knew, deep within in himself, when facing a titanium wall, you can only do so much - and he did his best, really, but it was never enough all things considered - but maybe Kazuya put too much faith into his teammates, into his pitchers - hearing Furuya was injured was one thing Kazuya didn’t expect to befall his ears for a very long time and yet -
Part of him was mad at himself for being happy, excited, because that meant....
Sawamura could pull ahead, enjoy the limelight, become ace one day and -
Kazuya couldn’t hide that feeling, the way it bubbled in his chest like boiling water - overflowing - and he had a hand pressed sloppily into his hair, and he’s glad Kuramochi wasn’t as perceptive in the dark - because he was smiling like a crazed man.
Kazuya thinks back to when he was catching for Furuya one day, in the shed, and he couldn’t hide it then either.
You’re extremely lucky to have attended Seidou in the same year Sawamura Eijun had.
And Kazuya knew it was unfair, but if Furuya hadn’t, if Furuya had been a year too late, well, Sawamura Eijun would’ve been an unstoppable force - he would’ve been ace, far quicker without the hindrance that was Furuya Satoru.
Kazuya also can’t help but compliment Sawamura in the form of backhanded teasings, because those reactions are so priceless - and he also didn’t miss how, after the topic of pro leagues had been brought up and the MLB, how Sawamura was speaking randomly in english.
It was like a promise, one Kazuya heard loud and clear -
I’m going with you, Miyuki Kazuya.
And who was he kidding to say he wasn’t excited to play in the pro leagues with none other than southpaw, Sawamura Eijun.
Kazuya also couldn’t help the sensations of adornment that fuddled throughout his entire being like blood to major arteries, he wanted those promises to lie in the forefront of his mind as he caught every one of Sawamura’s pitches, because then - and only then - could it feel real. He really wanted it to be real, in fact, needed it to be -
“Did you drill that into him?” The way Mima said that, with eyes aglow, white hair falling into his face slightly as he scowled at Miyuki Kazuya, and Kazuya knew exactly what he meant -
How Kazuya wanted to have answered with:
“Didn’t need to teach that idiot to care about his catcher, he’s practically followed me around since day one.”
Kazuya didn’t mind though, didn’t feel the need to waste his breath on the other - because his eyes were glued on to one person, and one person only -
The future ace of Seidou.
Sawamura Eijun.
Kazuya would gulp down, and feel his breath hitch.
Because at one point, Sawamura would’ve done the same things for Chris, would’ve traveled across America even - just to have Takigawa Chris catch his pitches, and Kazuya couldn’t help but silently wonder - was he not good enough, Eijun?
The bitter taste that fermented on his tongue like acidic reminders, eating him up - mentally - consuming him like cannibalism - like a zombie - and Kazuya could feel his gut twist and pang - he’d never been great at communicating his feelings, and only found the safety to do it in the wrestling ring that was baseball. When he called for bold and daring pitches from Sawamura so often, it was partially because Kazuya wanted to be bolder - in the things he does, in the things he did - he so desperately wanted to pull Sawamura by the shirt collar, force him to pitch to his mitt instead. Instead of Chris’, but the way Sawamura looked at him - looked at him after really, really, getting to know Chris was like being burned alive -
And it hurt, admittedly, but Kazuya was also ever so grateful.
Ever so grateful that Chris was gone now, and it could just be the two of them - best catcher to soon-to-be best pitcher.
And now there was another soft spoken catcher, living in the same dorm as Kazuya, staring at Eijun with those eyes - those blue eyes that spoke of longing, those eyes that held familiarity, and Kazuya couldn’t help but meet the gaze of Koushuu with a scowl.
As if to say,
I’m not giving him up this time, not to anyone.
And yet, Koushuu was so bold and brave in his proclaims and goals, stating he’d never catch for Sawamura as long as he wasn’t first string, and Kazuya had said it more like a hope than an actual warning -
“You probably lost your spot on the first string after that, the coach is a lot stricter than you’d think.” Kazuya really knew that Koushuu hadn’t, he only said it because how dare this brat try, try to take what was already Kazuya’s - and having to leave for three days was like the icing on the cake, what if Sawamura was stolen, whisked away like before - like with Chris?
Kazuya hoped, within the pits of his swirling stomach, that when he got back he wouldn’t find Sawamura claimed by another.
But he should’ve known better, should’ve seen it in the eyes made from the stars, after all.
The way Eijun smiled at him, chased him around, begged for Kazuya to catch - for Kazuya to do what he loves, and some part of him softened, found himself unable to deny the literal sun, unable to say no - and soon they found themselves partnered so often - and now he’d have to leave. Have to get up, and go and represent Seidou - part of it left a different kind of weight on his shoulders, and part of him…
Although he’d never admit it outloud, let alone in his actions, he didn't want to catch for anyone but Sawamura.
It was when he returned, Kazuya found himself in the dorm room number three, and the way Sawamura Eijun had his eyes glued onto his homework because after all, coach said there was no room for a player with bad grades -
“OH! YOU’RE BACK! MIYUKI KAZUYA!” Eijun bleated, leaning back in his chair with his mouth drawn open in a wide circle, before it transpired to a huge grin. “CATCH MY PITCHES!”
“Don’t you have Koushuu?” Kazuya couldn’t help but feel his chest swell tenfold, enamored by that of the other, but still - Kazuya was only a man, and he couldn’t fight the premature tuggings of possessiveness and slight anger, even though Kazuya was the one that left, he couldn’t help the sensations and feelings - he’d already been replaced, hadn’t he?
“Koushuu?” Eijun repeated like an afterthought, sticking his tongue out as he brought his pencil’s eraser up to his chin, tapping it on his face. “Who’s Koushuu again?” Eijun would feign confusion, and Kazuya didn’t miss the way Eijun challenged him with a daring look in his eyes.
“What do you mean, who’s Koushuu?” Kazuya found himself absolutely stunned, dumbfounded, mouth left open in a slight parting of his lips, which would only further his point of absolute shock.
“OH! THE LITTLE ANGRY WOLF BRAT!” Eijun would, all at once, allow his chair to come colliding back down with the carpet below, launching himself up, and jabbing the pencil right into Miyuki’s chest - like an actual threat.
“YEAH BUT YOU’RE HERE NOW SO I DON’T NEED ANYONE ELSE! COME ON CAP’N BAHAHA! I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN WAITING TO CATCH MY PITCHES!” And Eijun would walk out of the room first, ignoring the oi, where are you going, Bakamura?! That would escape Kazuya’s lips. Kazuya, on instinct, as if he’d been mortally wounded, grabbed his chest through the fabric of his shirt - his heart was racing.
And he found himself following Sawamura, too.
Kazuya realizes, maybe somewhere down the line of their shared career at Seidou, he’d been the one following Sawamura like a duck.
Catching Sawamura’s pitches that day was like catching fireflies in summer with stubby hands - like being with his mother, and Kazuya usually was so stoic in his approaches, usually thought calmly and collectively, logically - but it slipped from his mouth like word vomit.
“Did you miss me, that much, Sawamura?” He calls as he throws the ball back, because after all, Sawamura hasn’t pitched a single bad pitch yet, and they’re on number fifteen, seated inside the practice shed.
Kazuya can practically see smoke leave Sawamura’s nose like a bull.
“Of course I did! No one else can catch like you, Miyuki-senpai!” And as if the added honorific was the final blow, Kazuya couldn’t contain himself.
“I missed you too, idiot.” And it left his mouth before he even realized what he’s done, and when he looked up from the pitch he’d just received, he probably would’ve been left blind if it hadn’t been for the sports glasses on his face.
Because Sawamura was radiating, glowing even, skin flushed, cheeks pink.
“BAHAHA OF COURSE YOU DID MIYUKI! I AM YOUR GREAT ACE, AFTER ALL!” And Eijun placed his hands on his hips, throwing his head back in possibly the purest form of laughter Kazuya has ever seen.
And also, Kazuya couldn’t escape the added your, I’m your great ace.
Kazuya was going to combust, really, honestly.
“Oi! Who are you calling ace?!” Kazuya found himself tsking under his tongue, throwing the ball back. “You’re still incomplete, idiot.”
“INCOMPLETE?!” Eijun looked almost hurt, the ridisual shock in his eyes landing a blow that forced more words out of Kazuya than the catcher felt comfortable sharing.
“You’ll only reach higher and higher, Sawamura, if anyone can really become the ace here… it’s you.” Kazuya, upon receiving maybe the fiercest pitch yet, couldn’t help the full blown look of sheer and utter joy that transcended across his face - and maybe, just maybe, this is what cloud nine felt like.
“BAHAHA! I KNEW YOU COUNTED ON ME, THE SAWAMURA EIJUN TO HOLD DOWN THE FORT FOR YOU! THE MIYUKI KAZUYA!” Eijun, upon receiving the ball back into his mitt, looked to maybe be glistening under Kazuya’s gaze.
And maybe, for once in his life, it’d be okay to show a little bit of weakness. Instead of waiting for Eijun to throw the ball back, he walks over, lifts his fingers to gently tincture the crook of Sawamura’s neck, allowing the tip of his index finger to trail Sawamura’s adams apple, leaning in to whisper ever so softly…
“Keep climbing, Bakamura.”
Kazuya takes the ball then, from Sawamura’s mitt, casts a normal mischievous grin towards the pitcher, and says:
“That’s all for tonight, go ice your shoulder.”
He does not miss the utter look of sheer shock on Sawamura’s face.
“COME ON MIYUKI! I WAS JUST GETTING STARTED!” Eijun whines, insistent as ever, finding himself trailing after Kazuya like a lost puppy.
“Come on, Sawamura, give me a break. I’ve been catching pitches for three days.” Kazuya lies through his teeth, unable to hide the pure look of adoration he has for the southpaw.
But Kazuya offers one more bit of praise, although slightly hidden and -
“You never cease to amaze me by how much of a clumsy idiot you are, Eijun.”
Kazuya can’t help the sensation of satisfaction that rolls over his chest like a warm and welcome hug - Eijun is flushed, vibrant red, from the casual usage of the pitcher’s first name - Kazuya thinks to himself how cute the other is.
Kazuya sighs, unable to hide his personal turmoils, three months is an awfully offensive, short amount of time.