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Chris does not know where it all began.
One moment, he entered Seido to become someone that can be an asset to the team—a gem amongst the stones, that’s what they say. With a father who used to be a professional player, of course, Chris is bound to have high baseball knowledge—incorporated deep within him ever since he was a child.
Their year was called the “hopeless year,” and he was the only one who caught people’s—especially the coaches’ eyes. He was happy to be recognized and become part of the team; he knew he had to work hard.
Yet sometimes, working hard to exceed other people’s expectations also has its consequences. The moment he gripped his right shoulder, gritting his teeth in pain, he knew this was the price.
And that moment, his life which was full of color, turned gray.
How could it not? He breathed, eat and lived for baseball. All-of-a-sudden, it was taken away from him. He cannot blame anyone but himself; he hid his injuries, thinking that it is just minor and will heal over time.
All his friends tried to cheer him up that he still has somewhere to belong despite not playing for a year due to his injury. That they would wait for him to come back. Despite all the encouragement given by others, he became shut off.
How could he not? All of his batchmates are moving ahead of him, leaving him behind. Also, someone, who challenged him to take his starting position, earned it. He lost sight of all of his friends and teammates and did not know where to turn into. They are moving without him.
Despair embraced him like shackles, and he does not know how to break free. He may be living his usual life—aside from baseball and with the addition of physiotherapy, but it still feels like hell. For him, it felt like staying in an isolated room—far from people, with a door that is hard to open. With the window so high and small, barely telling him whether it is already day or night. A room without light, and he curled himself there in the middle, with monsters about to eat his well-being.
Everything was terrifying until someone did come to free him.
Sawamura Eijun was everything that Chris hated. A brash mouth which is all talk and no bite, a clumsy little shit, and most especially, someone who loved baseball just like how he did.
He heard from the rumors about the middle-schooler who visited Seido and challenged Azuma—who was drafted in the pro-baseball league.
On the first day of training, the guy has the nerves to be late, and worse of all—to defy the coach, not apologizing for being late and attempting to sneak in the line, making him do nothing but run laps for weeks.
He declared that he would be the team’s ace, and he was wondering if that guy is all talk or has skills to back it up. It turns out that he would not wait too long to answer his question.
Obnoxious. Single-minded.
When the pitcher was assigned to the second string and became his partner, and ranting in front of Seido’s main catcher and his kohai Miyuki about wanting to pitch to him, gripping the younger’s hand tightly, he told the younger how it was nice to meet him. He would prefer the other pitcher rather than him. Seeing the younger’s pissed-off look, he added, “Nice to meet you, clumsy pitcher.”
He hated his guts, and it seems like the first year also did. Screaming at his face that he would never become like him, and oh, he felt his heart twitch at those words.
Reckless. A person who does not know how to stretch his body properly. The younger was whining to him when stretching took them around thirty minutes. Saying how he wanted to pitch. He asked the younger if he thinks that catchers are just his pitching target.
“N-no, it’s not like that.” He even explained how he has no confidence in his control and might as well pitch straight.
“That’s why I called you greenhorn. Forget about it and just throw some pitches to me. Although I won’t be expecting anything from you.”
The pitcher, which goes by the name Sawamura has wild pitches. Throwing it straight in the middle and breaking randomly when it reaches the plate.
He did not even bother to move his mitt to catch the pitch which hit his shoulder.
“What’s wrong? I’m over here.” Fully emphasizing the position of his mitt.
“Overpowering the opponent? Baseball’s excitement? Do you play for yourself? A pitcher has to shoulder the whole team when he stands on the mound. It’s inevitable.”
“You will never understand what we have been through these last three years.”
He knew that the younger was pissed at him due to the scroll full of the training regime he gave. The younger even screamed at his face that he does not want to become like him, who lost the desire to play baseball.
That’s right, Sawamura, don’t be like me. As he walked away from the first year, he can only let out a tiny smile—full of pain, as his soulless eyes were glued onto his shoulder, the pain of the day he had torn his subscapularis tendon and pronator quadratus.
“Please teach me baseball!”
Those words that came from the younger’s mouth flickered a sparkle of hope deep within him, which he immediately shook off. Who would even want someone who lost his will to play teach them baseball, let alone the person who hated his guts?
He can barely hear his father ramble in the background as he passed by them, totally dismissing the younger.
If someone from the future told him two years ago that he would be injured and that he would take someone under his tutelage, he probably would have laughed.
Now? It’s not funny to think; rather, it’s downright annoying.
One Sawamura Eijun keeps on following him like a damn puppy-slash-annoying babysitter who keeps on gushing that he will help him and yada yada—oh for Pete's sake, he is injured, not invalid.
Yet one day, he cannot help but feel a sudden shiver ran down his spine when the younger told him that he wants to form a battery with him.
Ecstatic. Doubt. These were the emotions he felt at that time. He also wishes that he would be able to play that time, prove himself, and rise again to the first string. However, he knew that there is a possibility that he wouldn’t be able to play—due to his condition. He can only hope.
That game against Kokushidan, Sawamura’s pitches were going wild, barely entering the strike zone. He cannot help but clench his hand, the feeling of frustration coming to him. He wants to help the pitcher, but he knows he cannot since he would not be able to play—
Despite being injured, the coach wanted him to play. He gritted his teeth. He wanted to, but he can’t. “...That kid is waiting for you in the mound.” He watched the pitcher who gritted his teeth, trying to find a way to stabilize his form; however, the pitch was a ball—leading to loaded bases. His eyes widened at sight, and for the first time in months, a speckle of light can be seen in them.
It was also at that game when he caught the best pitch he had ever received during his entire high school career and the time, where things turned out for the better.
Gone was the Chris who tends to move on autopilot, not caring about anything—for he has lost the reason for living. Now, Chris was the person whom people knew when he was still younger, and maybe even better—he does not know.
Sawamura Eijun has saved him.
The said pitcher also still has his dumb moments, and as his so-called “mentor,” Chris cannot help but face-palm (most of the time mentally) during these moments, asking himself what he did to deserve this overexcited puppy.
The team only has one goal—to win and enter Koshien.
For the third year, their goal suddenly ended right in front of their eyes, during the finals against Inashiro Industrial. Little did they know, someone’s confidence also shattered during that game.
--
During their mourning for their loss, Sawamura has developed yips. Having yips is every player’s nightmare. The psychological impact affects someone’s muscle memory, disrupting their performance. In Sawamura’s case, it probably is due to the dead ball he threw at Shirakawa’s head. Implanting fear deep within him and made him unable to throw to the inside with batters.
He was a sunshine incarnate, a light amidst the darkness, with his bright smile, golden eyes, and never-ending energy.
Yet now, it suddenly diminished, as if he was a dead star about to be sucked into the black hole.
Chris knew he could not let it happen; however, he was torn between wanting to help and leaving it to Miyuki.
After all, it probably is Miyuki he has been waiting for to help him. Heck, the pitcher even said that he wants Miyuki by the time they were paired up.
Oh, how he wants to yell at Miyuki to help the pitcher. Yet he knew better than in doing so since the second-year catcher is busy taking over Tetsu’s reigns as the assigned captain. Not only that, but he was also assigned as the fourth batter.
Chris knew the pressure that lies within Miyuki’s shoulders, so he remained silent. Especially when Sawamura caught the yips, he probably does not know what to do.
As he walked towards the dorm for the third year, Chris saw a silhouette of a person running—and with a tire nonetheless, and he was about to come and reprimand the younger to rest, he stopped.
What does it have to do with me, anyway?
He has already planned not to meddle in the new team's business. So imagine his surprise when Miyuki came to him and begged him to help Sawamura.
An hour later, he entered the indoor training room and saw the pitcher throwing over the net, with balls scattered around it.
“You’re quite pitching a lot. Do you pay proper attention to your grip for every pitch?” He can see the younger stiffen at his voice as he turned towards where Chris was—only for his eyes to widen, mouth open in disbelief.
He can see the younger was tired, eyes dim than its usual shade of gold, with bags underneath it. Yet, the younger smiled at him with his usual bright grin, as if he was feeling relieved to see Chris, and it made his heart skip a beat.
What is wrong with him?
Despite that question deep within him, he still focused on the person in front of him, who needed him.
He can see that the younger threw well in the first few pitches, almost hitting his mitt every time.
“Nice ball.” He complimented as he stood up from his crouching position to throw the ball to the southpaw. “Aren’t you pitching it well?”
With a grin, the younger replied, “It’s because there aren’t any batters now.” Scratching his nape, he continued. "But, I think I am overthinking it. Miyuki-senpai said that my control was never good initially, although it is quite annoying to hear it.”
Crouching down, he positioned his mitt to high-inside for right batters. “An inside corner is close to the batter’s chest. On the other hand,” Moving his mitt towards low and away, he continued. “A low-outside pitch. If you can send your pitch here accurately, the batters won’t even react to it.”
“Someone like you, who has been attacking all this time, this is the pitch that I want you to learn the most.”
He was the one who helped me when I was down and brought baseball back to me. Now, it is my turn to support him with all I can as his mentor, senpai, and friend.
Even if he said that to himself, why did his lungs feel tight with those words?
--
Two days later, he was back again when he taught the younger how to pitch the low-outside course. Watching from the sidelines with Miyuki and Kataoka. The three first years on their line of vision, with Kanemaru standing at the batter’s box in full gear and Kariba catching, Sawamura pitches countless balls, trying to perfect the pitch he taught him.
Miyuki apologized for bothering him to help the pitcher out, but he shook his head.
There's no need for you to apologize; I also wanted to help him in the first place. He wanted to say, but the words that came out of his mouth was “No, I’ve always wanted to teach him this.”
“If it becomes a great opportunity, what’s left is how he overcome it,” Kataoka commented.
The three of them continued to watch on the sidelines as the southpaw continuously improving his control every time. Chris can only smile softly at sight.
Sawamura will not give up no matter what; he is that type of guy after all.
The morning after, he woke up with a painful chest and an itchy throat—as if something wants to crawl out of it. It felt too tight, and it was too hard to breathe. He tried to cough it out to expel it.
He thought it was ordinary phlegm, but he was surprised to see a flower in his hand. His mind turned blank for a moment, only to remember a fragment of sunshine, warm smiles, and golden eyes gazing right into his own—despite the 18.44 meters distance—all a dream.
And oh, Chris realized, he was in love, and it probably is deeper than that considering that he coughed flowers—of all things.
--
He told his father about it, who immediately took him to the hospital for a checkup. The doctor has concluded that it was a Hanahaki disease, and there are roots deep within his lungs. It would worsen over time, and the only way for him to get better is when the person loves him back or with surgery.
His father was worried for him, but the only thing Chris can do is to shake his head for him to know that he does not want to go under the knife. On their trip back towards Seido, the older man can only comment;
“It’s crazy boy, am I right?”
There were no words needed, and Chris knew better than to deny it, especially when they both knew that it was him.
He just hopes that he is not too late.
The outside course has truly been a weapon, and if paired up with the inside course, the pitcher would truly be unstoppable. It was proven during the game against Nanamori, where he finally threw to the inside.
He was not there to see it, but Chris was proud of the younger. Sawamura already recovered from his slump and will become better now that his fundamentals are set.
The only thing the pitcher needs is to widen his arsenal. Although he still has his moving fastball, it probably won’t break erratically as before he learned the four-seam and painting the corners. He may still have his cutter, but it would not be enough, especially as they continuously move forward towards the Koshien stage.
The first time he saw that pitch, he felt shivers run down his spine. Although it was a flunk, he knew that this was what Miyuki was talking about.
Sawamura learned a new pitch.
Of course, the younger did. Chris knew that he would learn easily, only in the right method. The southpaw is a practical learner rather than a book learner. He needs someone to guide him to become better.
In the mid-innings of the game against Ouya, it was plain flawless, with the debut of Sawamura’s changeup, which threw off the batters.
The itching sensation on his throat is back again, and he refuses to cough it out. Not here, not now. He thinks.
That night, he lay down on a bed full of yarrow flowers and can only laugh bitterly.
What’s the point of loving someone who is looking at another person? For sure, they would get together sooner or later.
If only he did not get injured, the southpaw would probably choose him if he was still the starting catcher.
Staring at the ceiling and wishing for Sawamura to hear him, he can only whisper, “Choose me, please.”
But how would the younger choose him if there is baseball and Miyuki?
Their time spent together is becoming lesser, especially when the third years are busy with tests and upcoming university life. Chris can feel his lungs getting tighter, as he can see Sawamura occasionally with Miyuki. Yarrow flowers filling up his bed the moment he wakes up—thrown at the garbage bin for no one to see, and he can only laugh at the irony of the meaning of the flower.
Come to think about it, Yarrow can be used to make medicine, yet I am drowning in this disease due to my love for him. With tears in his eyes, he wanted to give up and tell his father that he will take the surgery, but no, a tiny part of him does not want to since there is a chance that the southpaw pitcher might love him back.
I may be patient, but my life would not even last longer.
He was about to laugh when suddenly he has the urge to cough again, and there he saw the Yarrow.
Damn it, it hurts.
--
That night, he dreamt of a field full of sunflowers, and the person in the middle of it all is Sawamura. Bright eyes that can probably melt even the ice in Antarctica. A wide grin that is oh-so-fond that he never wants to stay away from it, and for it to be only for him. Brown messy hair swaying from the air and touch full of warmth.
He does not know what they are doing; one moment, they were playing catch, then the next moment, he was in his arms. Muttering sweet words towards each other, and Chris never wanted this to end.
Until they suddenly decided to play tag, the southpaw suddenly vanished from his sight, and Chris tried to keep him within reach.
Good moments always have their end, and Chris is left in the field without any trace of one Sawamura Eijun.
—
He remembered asking his father once when he was younger, “Is loving painful?”
His father ruffled his hair, “Love is the best thing you can give to someone. No matter what happens, don’t give up on it. It may be painful in the process, but in the end, it will be worth it.”
He clung unto those words until now, hoping that it would change the sight in front of him.
He can see them becoming closer and closer. The occasional touches here and there, the almost intimate moment when they were together. Miyuki and Sawamura. They look good together.
(The flowers he coughed out on the bathroom do not seem to agree.)
Loving someone hurts, and he is paying its price.
He was once coughing out petals; now, some of the leaves and stems are also out. Blood painted yellow, and he can only sigh, touching the flowers as if they were fragile. A smile left his face, lips still bloody from his coughing fit.
My sun, if it were for you, I would not mind accepting my death. If you do not desire me, I will be happy to lie down in a blood-stained bed full of flowers.
But if you desire me, please let me know, or I will face my doom.
Days passed, and Chris is feeling weaker and weaker. Coughing out in the most unfortunate of times, and one night, he tried to expel everything at the bathroom, only for someone to open the cubicle where he is, and there he saw the source of his affection.
He stood in front of him with wide eyes and an unreadable expression. Several thoughts ran on his mind.
Is he disgusted? Scared? Or what? He cannot distinguish them; it is so hard to breathe, everything feels so painful. He cannot help but surge into the moment of weakness.
But why, of all the people to find out, why him?
“Chris-senpai...” His tone was low, as if he was surprised. The only thing he can muster to reply was a weak “Sawamura.”
“W-who is it?” The younger asked softly, trying to help him up. Averting his gaze, he can only reply
“Does it matter? For sure, he loves someone else, and I would still end up being doomed.”
“What’s the point of hiding this when you do not dare to confess?”
“Would it be valid if I say that I am afraid of rejection?”
“Senpai...” Clasping his hand, the younger continued, “If he rejects you, then the only thing you can do move on or do the surgery. You still have a life ahead of you as a baseball player. What is the point of loving that person when he does not deserve it?”
“But he does! He deserves all the world that can give!” He yelled, but the raspiness of his voice made it seem like a harsh whisper. “My father once told me that the best thing to give someone was your love; no matter how painful it is, it will be worth it in the end.”
“Painful? Are you saying it’s painful?!” The younger scoffed, “Chris-senpai, seeing you right now, you’re just torturing yourself! How about your future? How about your father? How about me?!” As tears fell on the younger’s eyes. “I told myself that I would do it during your graduation, but Chris-senpai, what about me?” His voice was a mere whisper, yet Chris can hear it loud and clear. “I know you have someone that you love, but please choose me.” The younger’s face was cast down, yet his hand was gripping Chris’ shirt tightly, and for the first time in weeks, Chris’ suddenly felt light.
Yet doubt still lingered on his mind. “But, Miyuki and you—“
“Me and that tanuki are just a battery, nothing more. Can’t you see it, Chris-senpai? All I wanted was you, from the moment I told you that I want to become your battery partner. It has been you all the time. It’s you.” Chris feels relieved at the younger’s confession. Gone was the heaviness on his chest and was replaced with a new feeling—which he would not mind having.
Pressing a chaste kiss on the younger’s lips, he rested his forehead on the other’s, a fond smile on his face.
Now he knew that they were just beyond mentor-mentee, senpai-kohai, and friend. They were more than that.
“Sawamura Eijun, have I ever told you that I love you?”
They spend the rest of the night basking in each other’s warmth, the blood-stained flowers flushed away, gone and will never be found again.