Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Kazuya’s first love is baseball, and at seven years old, he thinks that’s all he wants as he watches his dad fall apart at his mom’s funeral.

It’s subtle in the slight trembling of his shoulders, but Toku hasn’t let go of Kazuya since the funeral started, so he can feel every miniscule movement as if it’s his own. So when he hears whispers of how cold Toku is at his own wife’s funeral, Kazuya sniffs but keeps his tears in, gripping his dad’s hand even harder in solidarity.

When the funeral ends and no one remains, his dad takes Kazuya into his arms and sobs, his own tears falling now too. They clutch each other in the dim living room, the smell of incense strong, the silence oppressive, but the warmth of each other a comfort.

Nothing is the same after that day, a constant hole in their hearts where mother and wife should be, but they take it slowly, one day at a time.

Sometimes he’ll catch his dad tracing the words swirling on his ankle, a tiny wobbly smile on his face as he does. Kazuya doesn’t intrude on those moments, but he’ll sit close by and rub at his own mark on his side, thinking how painful it is to lose your soulmate and how he doesn’t want that pain ever.

He has baseball, and that’s enough for him.

The sun is shining and bright, almost obnoxiously so, as if to mock him, on his first practice at Seidou when Kazuya meets his soulmate.

He had a feeling he might meet his soulmate on the diamond, if only because his message is clearly a response to whatever he ends up saying first.

Shut up, no one asked you!

A small morbid part of him probably always poked fun at his middle school bullies to see if they would react with his words, but the part that hides deep in him is glad none of them ever did. The words define him though, helping create his aloof personality and how he uses snark and biting words to keep everyone at arm’s length. His mom had been concerned when he first brought up the words to her, thinking he wouldn’t get along with his soulmate, but his dad had given a small grave nod, a look that Kazuya only understands now that he’s older.

The Miyuki men are hard to crack, whoever is at the other end of this mark will have to be more than stubborn to see what he’s hiding inside.

Not that he wants anyone to see under his prickly exterior, but it’s a sentiment that became clear after his mom died, his dad curling into a shell of a man, his once free smiles becoming rare treasures that Kazuya grew tired mining for, but never stopped searching for. They’re very alike, something his mom would say when he was younger, but was etched into his soul by the emptiness that invaded their house after her passing.

He and his father are solitary creatures, only able to thrive when they let others in, but after seeing what happens when they leave, when they’re taken, Kazuya decided that no temporary happiness was worth all that pain.

So he cloaked himself in his prickly words and bared his sharp smile at the world, daring it to throw its worst at him.

He really didn’t expect the response he got.

“Wow, I heard you were fast, but clearly not fast enough considering that sloppy play.”

“Shut up, no one asked you!”

It’s been a few days since Kazuya met Kuramochi and subsequently found out they were soulmates. He had tried not to visibly react when his words were said, but Kuramochi had looked like Kazuya physically punched him before he responded. They haven’t talked since, an odd calm settling between them as classes started and practices continued. It was just his luck they were in the same class, both looking like they swallowed a lemon at the discovery.

On their next day off, Kuramochi breaks the silence.

A tray clatters across from him as Kuramochi enters his field of vision, plopping down in front of him to eat dinner. The noise garners a few looks from their batchmates and upperclassmen, but no one intervenes as he digs into his food.

It’s not like anyone knows about them, Kazuya’s pretty sure they’ve both kept it to themselves, but he’s sure some people have noticed they actively try to stay away from each other, at least as much as being on the same team can allow. So this change of pace is probably a little suspicious, but everyone has their own worries so they mostly go ignored.

When he’s almost done with his food (three bowls of rice, why!?), he peeks up to see Kuramochi pinning him with a look that makes him straighten up a bit.

“Meet me by field B when you’re done.” It’s in a low, no nonsense tone as he gets up, already done with his food, and a piercing stare, almost daring Kazuya to try and skip out on their meeting.

Normally Kazuya would give a cheeky reply about a late night rendezvous, but Kuramochi is gone before he can, already through the door leaving. He instead blinks at the empty chair across from him before going back to eating his dinner, going a bit faster than before.

Kazuya finds him sitting against the fence, looking up at the darkening sky as he taps his feet to a silent beat. When he sees Kazuya approach, he pats the ground next to him. He lowers himself down gingerly, still not trusting what Kuramochi wants to talk about, leaving a foot of distance between them.

It’s silent for a little more before Kuramochi gives a deep sigh, scratching behind his head.

“So you’re my soulmate huh?”

Kazuya starts at the bluntness, but covers it easily with a smirk. “Well it’s still all guesswork without checking right?”

He gets a stink eye for his remark, but Kuramochi lifts his shirt to show the right side of his torso, Kazuya’s handwriting clear even in the dimming sunlight. He manages to give a jerky nod, a few seconds later the shirt falls back down, and Kazuya is able to focus back on Kuramochi’s reddening face. “I already saw yours in the baths by accident, it’s my handwriting.”

“Oh an accident huh?” Kazuya can’t help the leer, wanting to run away from their conversation already.

“Shut up, it really was!”

Confirmation out of the way, the two sit awkwardly in silence now, but it looks like Kuramochi is already the braver of the two of them. Kazuya doesn’t know how to feel about that just yet.

“So what now?”

“Well, I always pictured more flowers when this happened.” Kazuya says, just to be difficult.

“Don’t be an ass, you know what I mean! What are we gonna do about whatever this is?”

“Well, do we have to do anything about it?”

“Huh!?” Kuramochi is still red, but it’s not as vivid, as he levels a confused look at Kazuya.

“Well, like.” Kazuya scratches his cheek as he glances away. “We barely know each other, and I don’t know about you, but I’m just here to play baseball. So let’s just play baseball, be teammates. I don’t really want more than that.”

He gets a loaded look from Kuramochi, one he can’t decipher, but then he’s holding out his hand, wiggling it when Kazuya just stares at it. “It’s a handshake, it won’t bite. Figured we should redo the introductions, I’m Kuramochi Youichi and I play shortstop.”

Kazuya cautiously takes his hand, the hold firm. “Miyuki Kazuya, catcher.”

With a decisive nod, Kuramochi drops his hand and gets up, stretching the aches out of his legs from sitting for so long. “Well, that’s squared off, I’ll see you tomorrow, night!”

And then he walks away.

“...night.” Kazuya stays sitting for a while after that.

He doesn’t know what he expected, but actual normalcy wasn’t it. Kuramochi keeps to his word and they just play baseball, both training hard to make it to the first string for that summer.

It’s a big change from normal practice, but the two keep at it, putting in extra training whenever they can. They don’t practice together, the idea oddly becomes a line Kazuya isn’t willing to cross in his attempts to keep Kuramochi at arms length as just his teammate. A few people (mainly his batchmate Maezono) comment to Kazuya that it’s odd he and Kuramochi aren’t closer since everyone thinks being the only two first years to make the first string would create some solidarity.

Kazuya just laughs at those comments as he goes back to trying to wrangle the pitchers who all seem to have a problem with him being the new regular catcher.

Because it’s not his fault Chris blew his shoulder and now he’s the main catcher. He wanted to win the position fair and square, but life doesn’t care what he wants, and it certainly doesn’t care what his upperclassmen want.

The coach made him the regular catcher, and like hell he'll mess that up because they don’t like it.

He’s prepared for their snide comments, the silent treatment, the looks of disdain, it’s not any different than the bullies from his middle school, but at least they don’t use their fists to break his glasses in petty revenge like those kids did.

It’s nice not having to keep restocking a first aid kit, but he still hides one under his bed, the fear of the other shoe dropping too strong.

It’s after another strained pitching session before their quarterfinal game that he finally runs into Kuramochi long enough for him to start a conversation.

Again Kazuya wonders if he’s really brave or really stupid.

“So are they all like that?”

Kazuya peers up from where he’s sitting, taking his gear off to see Kuramochi poking his head into the bullpen. They’re the only ones there, the other pitchers and catchers long gone by now, Kazuya’s only still there having hung back to talk to the coach, who had just left.

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Kuramochi scowls a bit at his deflecting. “Don’t be difficult, you know what I mean.”

He does, he just doesn’t want to have this talk with him before a game, or at all. Kazuya’s done well keeping Kuramochi far enough, and even if baseball is their common safe ground, it still puts him on edge.

But Kuramochi is blocking the entrance to the bullpen, arms crossed and determined to get Kazuya to talk.

Maybe it’s because he feels more tired after dealing with the upperclassmen, or because some part of him does long to connect with his soulmate, but he finds the words tumbling out anyway.

“Do I? You could mean the egotistical pitchers who all think they know best, or the fact I’m the first year brat catcher that none of them want to take any leads from.” Kuramochi’s brows furrow, and opens his mouth to comment, but Kazuya just steam rolls over him. “Or maybe how even the older catchers just stand there and wait to watch me fail, as if I’d ever let that happen.”

That’s a little more honest than he had planned, but it’s been a very stressful day of their ace ignoring him and Tanba’s breaking balls being erratic. And maybe being extra snarky with his feedback didn’t help, but he was getting really tired of his skill being questioned just because he was a first year.

Baseball doesn’t care about social hierarchy, and if they were actually better players than him, then they would be on the field.

But they aren’t, and he is. Being difficult only serves their egos, not the team, and Kazuya is more than over it.

“Dude, are you okay?”

And then there’s Kuramochi, who between ignoring Kazuya and giving him worried looks like he is now, is honestly such a mystery to him. He knows if he just asks, just tries to breach that gap he could probably find out, but that requires getting close to someone, to forming a connection, and Kazuya would rather swallow a baseball whole than open himself up to that.

So instead, he plasters on a sleazy leer, exaggerated more than usual, and gives a nasally laugh, a mocking edge to his next words. “Aw, are you worried about me Kuramochi? Shouldn’t you worry about your own training?”

Kuramochi flushes in anger and embarrassment, and if he wasn’t so amused by the instant reaction, Kazuya would say he looks cute like that.

“Shut up, you asshat, I was just trying to be nice!”

“Why? Because we’re soulmates?” Kazuya sneers the word out, part of him cracking as he throws barbs, but better to be cracked than broken.

“Because that’s what a decent person does! Soulmate or not, you’re my teammate, isn’t that what we agreed on? And you look like shit most days, so excuse me for being concerned!” Kuramochi comes closer with each word, until he’s jabbing at Kazuya’s chest with his finger as each word is uttered.

Kazuya’s chest feels warm from the contact, and the words spoken, but he squashes it down with a smile that’s more teeth than anything. “Well you can take your concern and turn it towards your abysmal fielding or you’ll never be a regular. Now excuse me, I have stats to look over.”

He hears more than sees Kuramochi’s explosive anger, the fence rattling at being kicked before he’s screaming after Kazuya, words just as sharp in intent to hurt. “Maybe you should work on your own batting with your shitty record, Mr. Genius Catcher!”

The moniker isn’t new, he’s heard it used as genuine praise and full of malice, more than used to it from the press and his current teammates. He’s even used it himself when taunting others into actually listening to him from time to time, or just to piss them off for entertainment.

But for some reason hearing it dripping with venom from Kuramochi’s lips makes his heart drop, feeling like lead, the warmth from earlier gone, ice gripping him as he walks away.

They lose in their semifinal match of the summer tournament, and Kazuya feels a bit of vindictive pleasure at seeing the third years cry, especially their ace who shook off all his signs, leading to the home run that took away their victory.

He does feel bad for the second years though, the few that were on the field gave it everything they had, and Kazuya could feel their desperation as his own. He wishes he could have taken them to nationals, but that’s what the fall tournament will be for, when the third years are gone and the team can grow into something better.

Hopefully a team where his calls will be more trusted, because he hates losing, but losing when it could have easily been prevented stings even worse.

Trudging onto the bus, Kazuya doesn’t want to sit with the upperclassmen who are crying or close to it. He gets why they’re sad, but his frustration doesn’t make him any more sympathetic than usual, so he reluctantly finds Kuramochi in the back and plops next to him.

The silence that greets him is cutting, they still haven’t spoken to each other since that night in the bullpen.

But Kazuya forgets, Kuramochi is much braver than him.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“That the third years suck.”

Kazuya barks out a disbelieving laugh, garnering a few weird looks, but he can’t focus on them when Kuramochi is giving him another unreadable look. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“If you’re going to be an ass, I will kick you into a seat next to one of them.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Kuramochi leans towards the window more and lifts his leg a bit to show he’s absolutely serious, so Kazuya brings his hands up in a placating manner. “Easy, okay, minimal levels of sass it is.”

“If only you could turn it off.”

“Now, now, that’s my entire personality!”

“Disgusting.”

“Thank you!”

“Not a compliment!” Kuramochi looks like he swallowed a lemon whole, but his leg is back on the ground so Kazuya gives a small sigh of relief. He doesn’t relax any further though, he still doesn’t know how best to interact with Kuramochi, and he’d like to be prepared to escape if need be. If he notices Kazuya saying closer to the aisle of the bus, Kuramochi doesn’t say anything.

He can hear the rest of the team pile onto the bus, all teary eyed and snot running, and Kazuya lowers his head so no one sees his dry cheeks. He can see Kuramochi doing the same next to him from the corner of his eye, and it strikes him that he really didn’t see Kuramochi look that upset over their loss.

Frustrated, like Kazuya, but not upset. Maybe they have more in common than he thought.

As soon as that thought enters his mind he shoves it away, crossing his arms as he sinks more into the seat as Kataoka gives some final words before the bus starts. There are sniffles in the air as it drives and the longer it goes on, the more on edge and trapped Kazuya feels.

Then a slight pressure is against his shoulder, causing him to freeze up instantly. The touch is gone immediately, and he peers to his side to see Kuramochi looking out the window with his ear tinged red, but he’s looking at Kazuya through the window. His face matches his ears, and he’s scowling, but there’s uncertainty in his eyes that reflects Kazuya’s own as he waits for what he’ll do next.

Kazuya blames losing and the frustrations of the game when he leans closer to Kuramchi and connects their shoulders again without looking away from his reflection. His eyes widen a bit at the action, but he doesn’t pull away, instead leaning into it more. They break eye contact after that, both settling against each other and the seat, unsaid words hanging between them.

They stay like that the rest of the ride back to campus.

Sawamura Eijun is a revelation.

He comes in like a hurricane and leaves Kazuya partially in tatters in his wake. Kazuya just wanted some amusement, and to take down Azuma a couple pegs, his vindictive need to strike at the third years still strong even weeks after they’ve retired from the team.

But what he got instead was a moving fastball paired with a peculiar form, a true diamond in the rough. Rei found an interesting recruit, and Kazuya really hopes the kid comes to Seidou, he wants to help develop that skill, have a hand in a pitcher’s growth. The mere thought of that challenge, because he just knows it’ll be one, gets him more excited to play baseball than he has been all year.

He wonders if he’s that transparent with his thoughts, or if Kuramochi is steadily learning to read him. Both possibilities make his skin crawl as he joins Kazuya for some batting practice and casually mentions the pitcher that blew up their practice that day.

Kazuya actually swings wide at the words, throwing him off balance a bit, a bewildered look gracing his face before he can even attempt to hide it. “Excuse me?”

Kuramochi seems annoyed, as he tends to be when he talks to Kazuya, but he just rolls his eyes before he repeats himself. “I said, you had fun today.”

“I’m playing baseball everyday, of course I’m having fun.” Kazuya rights himself and uses his cheeky smile that he knows drives people crazy, but for once Kuramochi doesn’t rise to the bait.

“Nah, that’s more your default, baseball nut that you are. You actually had a giddy grin when you were catching for that kid, it was creepy.”

Kazuya wants to run, far, far, far away from this conversation. He didn’t think he was being that obvious with his excitement over a new pitcher, but more than that he doesn’t like being seen, least of all by Kuramochi. His eyes haven’t left his face, as if to track how he’ll react to the news, as if he’s used to searching Kazuya for every little tick to see what’s hiding beneath his prickly shell.

It makes needles crawl across his skin, but warmth wiggles into his chest, the contrasting emotions battling it out until his defenses kick in with a cocky smirk.

“You were watching me that closely? How flattering Mochi-kun!”

Stop looking at me.

“Shut up, not like that!” Kuramochi flushes a bright red, but his eyes scream murder, and why does Kazuya find it so cute, why does he want to poke more fun and have that look directed at him more?

What do you see?

Why does he want to feel those eyes on him, even as the thought freezes him in fear?

Is what you see worth it?

“Oh, then how was it? I’m starting to get mixed signals here.” His smirk has only widened, leaning a little forward to push Kuramochi away, but he’s made a huge miscalculation when he faces his challenge instead.

“That’s my line you bastard!” And then he feels a hand grab the front of his jersey, yanking him forward until their faces are millimeters apart, lips almost brushing. This close Kazuya can see his eyes are a light tawny brown as they stare unflinchingly into his own. Neither moving or even breathing, Kuramochi seems to search for something in Kazuya’s eyes, as he feels his mind war over whether to push him away or bring him closer, the last thought shocking him.

After what feels like hours, Kuramochi releases him, but keeps his hand steady on Kazuya’s chest as he gently pushes them apart. Kazuya tells himself the chill he feels is from the night air and not a lingering sense of disappointment. “It’s not the end of the world to admit you want a pitcher that might actually listen to you on the mound.”

He takes the offering Kuramochi gives him like a man lost at sea seeing a raft, anything to leave that moment behind them. “Aren’t you forgetting Nori? How mean!”

“Nori doesn’t challenge you.”

“Oh? I don’t know, it’s quite a challenge to get him to perform his best.”

“But clearly you like to be challenged.”

This doesn’t sound like it’s about baseball anymore, the sharp look back in Kuramochi’s eyes, pinning him where he stands. His hand is still lightly on his chest, but with those words, they’ve added some more pressure, almost like they never separated from earlier. Kazuya’s instinct to run is still strong, but he can’t help leaning a little in rising to the bait, because Kuramochi isn't wrong.

Kazuya loves a good challenge.

“So what if I do?”

The air is charged between them, and Kazuya honestly can’t tell how Kuramochi will react, but he feels a bit of the giddiness he felt catching for Sawamura flood back. The need to see how this plays out drowns out the one that wants to run until he’s rooted to the spot, the two staring each other down, refusing to back down.

Besides the itching fear of being seen, there’s a burning under his skin now, one he sees reflected in Kuramochi’s eyes.

He sees Kuramochi smirk, his eyes full of mischief and an extra edge of intent, before he moves back, cutting all contact from Kazuya, but that stare still lights him on fire. “Good to know then. Night Miyuki.”

He hefts his bat on his shoulder and swaggers away, Kazuya left bereft in his wake. He raises a hand to his chest that hasn’t stopped beating too fast as he finally breathes in the cool air shakily.

Kazuya was wrong, Sawamura wasn’t a hurricane. He was the wind that catalyzed one into being, Kuramochi leaving him more on unsteady ground than Sawamura ever could, slowly and thoroughly, until he’s raw from exposure to those strong gales.

The thought still fills him with fear, but just as much excitement to rival it.

They settle into a weird camaraderie after that, no longer avoiding each other, but not exactly friends like everyone around them seems to think they are.

Mainly they compete, a lot, over baseball, eating, school, dumb things and everything, if Kuramochi can turn it into a challenge, he does, and unable to help himself, Kazuya accepts every time.

Somewhere between trying to get a higher score in history and trying to up each other on how many hits they can get in their practice games, Kazuya finds the smiles he gives Kuramochi aren’t as fake as before. He still tries to hide them behind his braying laughter, but more than once he’s seen a satisfied look on Kuramochi’s face even when he loses some of their challenges. And despite how much he tries, he can’t help the small details that come out about himself when they practice or study or just end up alone together.

Which is another thing he’s noticed, that people tend to leave them alone a lot, or pair them off, to the point they are often in each other’s company and it feels a little weird when Kazuya finds a moment by himself.

He kind of hates how much he’s come to expect that shock of moss hair in his periphery, or Kuramochi’s cackles to follow his own snickers. Kazuya’s got the more rotten personality, but he discovers Kuramochi can be just as biting as him to people that get on his nerves, though he respects more people than one would think. He’ll gripe to him about Kominato’s intense training, but also compliment his insane plays in the same breath.

He’s trying to meet Kazuya halfway, but it’s never been that easy for him, no matter how much part of him may want to try.

So they stick to this new normal, good teammates, barely friends, talking to each other, but rarely of anything of substance that would breach each other’s walls because Kuramochi does have walls. They aren’t as obvious as Kazuya’s but they’re there, hiding something behind his wild cackles and bold plays. It does make Kazuya curious, but that’s a line once crossed that can’t be undone, so he stays quiet and minds his own business.

The rest of the year flies by, baseball taking up all of their time as they cram for classes to stay afloat. He gets a brief verbal acknowledgement from Kuramochi on his birthday, and later he sees a packet of new laces for his glove, the same color as his fraying ones. It makes something warm yet acidic rise in response to the thoughtful gesture, but he never thanks him, at least not out loud.

If he’s a little more free with his praise about Kuramochi improving his fielding, then that’s no one’s business but his own.

They go their separate ways for winter break, though he does catch Kuramochi’s thoughtful looks when he thinks he isn’t looking. It almost looks like he wants to ask Kazuya something, but ultimately decides not to bother.

Kazuya thinks that’s probably for the best.

He expects to bring in the new year like he has for the last few years, but he’s pleasantly surprised when his father ends the work day early enough to eat a late dinner with him. He must make a face, since his father just huffs at him and tells him the house is too quiet now that Kazuya is at Seidou, that he misses his noise.

Kazuya doesn’t know what to do with that, the house is always silent even with him in it.

It’s nice though, sitting next to his dad as they watch the new year programs, light laughter filling the house. He’s reminded of the last time they did this, when he was twelve and Toku had taken off early to cook his favorite foods. They came out a little messy, and Kazuya had to help him with the rice, but it was one of the best meals he remembers ever having.

His dad’s business had almost gone under the next year, his hours growing to keep providing, their new year meals vanishing also.

Kazuya remembers being sad about it, but not much else, knowing there wasn’t much he could do to change it. He got really good at portioning out meals though, to leave his dad a good amount for when he could finally eat after work.

Toku almost makes it to midnight, almost passing out a little after eleven, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with him. Kazuya helps him to his room and tucks him in, giving a small smile at his dad curling up under the covers as he closes the door.

He stays on the couch watching the countdown and beyond before he manages to drag himself to bed for a fretful sleep.

Kazuya wakes up to a happy new year text from Kuramochi. After debating for two days, he doesn’t respond.

He leaves his dad about two weeks of prepared meals before he heads back to Seidou, a little concerned with how thin he was when he arrived. He gets a fond head shake when he hands over the cooking and heating instructions for them all, and a surprise hug that’s awkward, but plenty warm in the cold air. He’s a little confused by this whole visit, but he decides to take his dad at face value when he said he had missed Kazuya.

Even if the house is quiet with him, it’s probably even more so now without him making his dad lonelier, a feeling Kazuya understands too well.

Despite concerns about his dad, Kazuya still feels better being back on Seidou grounds, the fields a welcome sight. The team didn’t make it to spring nationals, but he has a good feeling this year, the team doing well under Yuuki, and the possibility of promising first years.

He’s almost to his room when he hears his name being called out, turning to see Kuramochi jogging up to him. His hair is cut slightly shorter, but still styled like normal, and he’s a little paler, probably from staying inside away from the cold. He’s got a lazy grin settled on his lips, and Kazuya’s a little charmed before he quickly shakes the thought away.

“Hey, how was your break?”

“Fine, just stayed home, didn’t do much. You?”

“Pretty much the same, but a small blizzard hit us halfway through so there was nothing else for us to do but hunker down and wait it out. Played a lot of board games.”

“Oh yeah, we got a little of that here but not too much, lucky us then!”

“Oh shut up asshole.” He says it with a slightly fond smile, and Kazuya’s heart skips a bit, before he’s asking and teasing Kuramochi about their winter homework that he apparently didn’t do, their normal established easily.

He’s missed their banter, not that he’ll ever admit it.

They continue to talk about small things until they have to split up for their individual rooms, and as he’s walking in, Kazuya realizes how light he feels. He tells himself it’s being back at Seidou, being back to playing baseball, and not that he may have missed Kuramochi.

He doesn’t let himself dwell on it, getting ready for classes, and practices taking up most of his time and energy, and then trying to pass said classes and do well in said practices. Before he knows it, graduation is upon them, the third years finally moving on to bigger and better things.

Kazuya honestly doesn’t know how to feel about it, he can see some of the second years getting emotional talking to some of them, consoling pats given out. He sees Yuuki talking to their old captain, probably getting some last minute advice, and he sees their old ace with a few others, all smiles to be done with high school.

Before they can make eye contact, Kazuya looks elsewhere, counting down when he can leave and not be seen as rude. He usually wouldn’t care, but Yuuki’s been a good captain, and actually has faith in his plays, something he’d like to keep, not wanting a repeat of last summer.

It’s while he’s in his musings that he misses someone’s approach until they clear their throat, Kazuya’s head whipping up to see Azuma in front of him looking pensive.

“Um, congrats senpai?” He didn’t mean for that to come out a question, but he’s a little caught off guard that Azuma is here to talk. Or maybe to chew Kazuya out for all the trouble he gave him one last time, and actually that’s more likely now that he thinks about it more.

Azuma gives him an assessing glare, his brows furrowed. “You know, you’re a real pain in the ass Miyuki.”

“Thank you!” The reflex is immediate, and by Azuma’s brows furrowing more, he knows it.

“Not a compliment. But… we weren’t very fair to you either were we.”

Kazuya just blinks, not knowing how to react to that.

“Like, don’t get me wrong, you’re a little shit and you have no respect, but you know your stuff. We should have at least respected that.” He shifts, rubbing the back of his neck briefly, before he meets Kazuya’s eyes again. “You’re a good player Miyuki, I better see you in the pros one day.”

He brings his hand forward, and Kazuya takes it, a little dazed at the turn this conversation has taken. “Um, yeah, good luck on your new team Azuma-senpai.”

“Hmpf, I don’t need luck.” And with that he turns and walks off, leaving Kazuya alone and confused, but something settles within him.

He’s never wanted or needed any acknowledgement from this batch of players, spending most of this year living off spite when he plays to shut them all up. He’d accepted he would probably never get it from them, but hearing that from Azuma of all people, one of the proudest players they had, meant something.

Looking out again at the graduates, Kazuya spots their old ace looking back at him. When he sees Kazuya notice him, he sets his jaw and raises his hand briefly as he bows his head a bit. It’s quick, but he sees it, and gives a jerky nod back in acceptance of the offering for what it is.

As he’s watching the graduates leave with the team, he manages to find some comfort knowing that people make mistakes, but they eventually grow up too.

Spring brings a new year and new headaches for Kazuya, specifically in the shape of two freshman pitchers.

Sawamura Eijun and Furuya Satoru.

On one hand, he’s a little excited that the mouthy middle schooler did end up coming to Seidou, but after the prank Kazuya pulled, Sawamura might not be. He’s so loud though, but very gullible, Kazuya’s going to have a lot of fun with this, when the kid eventually gets his shit together and makes it to the first string.

Because he knows Sawamura will make a great asset to the team, but he really does have some catching up to do.

That brings Kazuya to his other headache though: Furuya and his monster speed.

Honestly, Kazuya’s intrigued by a pitcher who can pitch so fast naturally, but once he sees how bad his control is, his enthusiasm takes a dive, though it doesn’t truly die until he sees how stubborn the pitcher is about not listening to Kazuya on how to improve.

He takes a lot of joy in all the laps Furuya runs to build up stamina.

Kazuya hasn’t told anyone in any amount of words that the two first years are trying his patience, but it must show somehow because he sees a lot of smug looks and snickers thrown his way. When he brings it up offhandedly to Kuramochi one night as they practice their swings, he cackles at his plight, feeling no sympathy.

“It's because you’re an insufferable prick most of the time, it’s basically karma.”

He pouts, because he can’t really fight that, but he refuses to admit it. “Ouch, so mean Mochi-kun! Have a little heart!”

He rolls his eyes, used to Kazuya’s antics, but there’s a secretive smile that he wants to dissect yet doesn’t.

He tries not to forget the line he’s drawn.

“Well maybe if you were, and hear me out, nicer about your advice, those two would actually listen to you.”

Kazuya snorts, memories of broken glasses and turned backs flitting by. “I think if I was nice the whole team would keel over in shock.”

He doesn’t get laughter like he expects, and really, he should stop expecting around Kuramochi at this point shouldn’t he?

“I don’t know, it might be nice.” The words feel loaded with something close to longing, and Kazuya looks away, his face feeling a bit warm.

Every since they came back from break Kuramochi will get this way sometimes, softer and warmer in his words and actions, and Kazuya can’t help how it disarms him, how much it fucking terrifies him.

So he runs away because that’s what he's good at.

"Well it doesn’t matter, there isn’t much about me that’s nice anyway, right? My nasty personality and all remember?”

“Hmm.”

The two stay in tense silence for the rest of their extra practice.

Something changes after that night.

It’s small and gradual, but he doesn’t fully realize anything has changed until after he snaps at Sawamura over his comments about Chris and he finds himself searching for Kuramochi.

It doesn’t fully hit him until he sees Kuramochi at the vending machines with the older Kominato, the two finishing up their extra drills it looks like. When Kuramochi makes eye contact with him, Kazuya relaxes, the anger from earlier draining, a pleasant warmth filling him instead.

He doesn’t know how he must look, but it must be bad because suddenly Kuramochi is excusing himself and approaching Kazuya, Kominato giving him a piercing look from where he stays by the vending machine before he leaves. Kazuya feels exposed, but when Kuramochi reaches him with a slightly concerned expression, any tension leaves and he sags forward a bit, bumping his head against his gently.

Kazuya likes having Kuramochi around, he likes being around him, his presence now a steady calming fixture in his life.

He’s terrified of this revelation, but standing there with the last dregs of his fight with Sawamura melting away and Kuramochi’s questioning yet reassuring bump back, he decides to indulge himself just this once. He’ll take this feeling and bury it deep in the depths of his soul later, but for now he leans more into the other boy, letting himself be as hands hesitantly pat his back.

Kazuya’s missed being this close to another person.

The next day he gets an apology from a subdued Sawamura, and his favorite snack to match the understanding eyes from Kuramochi.

He blushes a bit when he recalls how he acted the night before which causes Kuramochi to give him amused looks all day. There’s something mixed under all the amusement but he’s already crossed that line once and doesn’t intend to again.

But it’s not that easy to stop once he starts.

Kuramochi won’t stop touching him, and Kazuya isn’t stopping him.

Ever since that night, Kuramochi has been steadily trying to up their contact in small touches, nothing too eyebrow raising, but enough that Kazuya notices very soon after it starts. When he realizes he’s been caught, Kuramochi doesn’t stop, instead he simply raises his brow in question and Kazuya, in his ever growing weakness for one green haired shortstop, just nods and lets it happen.

(The one time Kazuya denied him, the brief pout he received haunted him into his dreams for days. He caved the next day so fast, it was embarrassing, but the satisfied smile he got melted his insides, the shoulder against his arm burning through layers of uniform.)

It’s not like they’ve never touched before this, being teammates gives a certain level of skinship, but never to this degree, and never this comfortably. Shoulders attached more often, hips bumped, arms slung, sitting too close when doing homework, leaning against each other on the bus rides to games, pats that linger longer than usual. It drives Kazuya a little mad, constantly warring with either reciprocating or ripping himself away.

But it’s… nice.

Just like his revelation that he actually liked Kuramochi’s company, he eventually comes to realize he likes all the casual touches. He never initiates them though, even when Kuramochi gives him opportunities to. Part of Kazuya wants to, hell all of him wants to, but a tiny very vocal part screams that he can’t, because it’s too close to that night, too vulnerable, and no matter how much he toes the line now, he’s still afraid.

It goes on throughout the summer, as they win game after game, victory fueling more touches, more lines blurred, feeling like they’re on top of the world, like nationals is an actual tangible reality instead of a fleeting fantasy.

And then that deadball, and dead eyes.

They lose, the third years retire, he’s made captain, why is he captain, he doesn’t know what he’s doing𑁋

Sawamura can’t pitch to the inside anymore, he has the yips, Kazuya doesn’t know how to help him𑁋

Everything happens at once, Kazuya’s drowning, and𑁋

The touches stop.

Kazuya’s never felt colder.

He hasn’t been sleeping well, and he knows it shows. The bags under his eyes are getting worse and he has no patience for anyone, which is probably why he fucks up and gets into that fight with Zono. He meant everything he said, but it came out harsher than he intended, though in his post fight haze he can’t bring himself to care that much. Kazuya’s about to try getting some homework done when he hears a knock at the door, freezing and hoping it isn’t Zono for round two.

He debates not answering when he hears Kuramochi call through the door. A small petty part of him wants to ignore him anyway, the distance between them an unexpected wound, but he eventually answers after the third round of insistent knocking.

“What do you want?”

“You look like shit.” Kuramochi barges his way into the room, brushing against Kazuya, who has to fight the instinct to lean closer.

He slams the door closed harder than he means to, but seeing Kuramochi flinch a little at the noise makes him feel a little better. “What do you want Kuramochi, I was busy.”

Kuramochi seems to sense Kazuya’s horrible mood and wisely gets to the point. “I’m checking in to see how you’re doing after that, I already talked to Zono and he’s finally calmed down.”

“Well glad to see I still warrant concern, but I’m fine.” His smile is all sharp edges with biting words. “So you can see yourself out, have a good night Mochi-kun~”

He wishes Kuramochi wasn’t so perceptive.

“Cute, wanna tell me what’s really wrong now? ‘Cuz you’re an ass, but even that in the cafeteria was another level of dickishness.” He crosses his arms leaning against Kazuya’s bunk, the picture of relaxation, and something in him snaps.

“Oh? And how would you know, you haven’t exactly been around that much have you? Did my rotten personality finally drive you off? It only took a year and a half, you’ve lasted much longer than others, congratulations.”

“What?” Kuramochi looks flustered, but anger builds in his eyes. “Don’t put words in my mouth asshole!”

“I don’t have to, you’ve said it enough yourself haven’t you? About my nasty personality, and how much of an asshole I am, it's not exactly a secret.” He doesn’t mean to use so much venom, but he’s hurt over losing Kuramochi’s attention after getting so comfortable having it.

And like Kazuya’s told him plenty of times, he’s not a kind person.

“Shut up! You know I never mean it that way, you can be an ass, but you’re not an actual ass!” He forgot Kuramochi likes to get closer during arguments, his hand already in his shirt, pulling him more to his level. “What’s with you today? Why are you trying to pick a fight!?”

Kazuya bares his teeth as he grabs Kuramochi’s shirt right back, refusing to back down his time. “I’m always picking fights, haven’t you noticed? Haven’t you been around me long enough to know that? Or maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

“Don’t give me that shit Miyuki, I know you better than anyone else on this team, so tell me what the fuck is your problem!”

“You just said you know me better than anyone, so you tell me!”

Kuramochi searches his face before his eyes finally fall to Kazuya’s hand in his shirt. It looks like a million thoughts flit behind his eyes when they suddenly go wide, flying back to Kazuya. He starts to let go under that scrutiny, but Kuramochi is faster (always faster), grabbing his wrist and pulling him in until his hand is squished between them.

“You never touch me, you, I was giving you space and you’re pissed about it aren’t you?”

Kazuya would normally deny everything, laugh it off, kick Kuramochi out by goading him to leave in a huff, anything to avoid those piercing eyes that alway know how to probe deep.

But he’s exhausted from lack of sleep, the earlier fight, and having Kuramochi in front of him, having that physical contact back, even if it’s rooted in yet another fight, Kazuya just crumbles, leaning all his weight forward until he hears a small oof.

“Why did you give me space?”

There’s an immediate hand ruffling his hair, and he absolutely loves it. “We lost the final, which I know you blame yourself for, you aren’t that good at hiding it. And then you were just named captain, and with Furuya’s instability and, and Sawamura’s yips, you looked stressed, I… I didn’t want to add to that.”

He blames his contentment in being close to another human being for how loose his lips become as he quietly asks, “So you left me alone?”

The hand in his hair stills. “You always push me away when things get too much or emotional. I thought this would be the same. I didn’t think you would get upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Miyuki, we’re borderline cuddling because you thought I was ignoring you, sounds pretty upset to me.” Kazuya doesn’t know how to respond so he tries to pull away instead, only to feel Kuramochi hold him tighter. “Nope, you wanted attention so I’m giving you attention, deal with it.”

He can feel his cheeks heating as Kuramochi moves his arms more securely around Kazuya, getting more comfortable with their positions. He tentatively brings his own hands up to grip at the back of his shirt to help ground himself. When Kuramochi doesn’t say anything, Kazuya buries his face into his shoulder, wanting contact, but the urge to hide is still strong.

He doesn’t know what to say, and Kuramochi seems content to just hold Kazuya, so they stay that way until his legs start to fall asleep from just standing. It’s Kuramochi that pulls away just enough to see Kazuya’s face, his eyes searching, concern still there. He gives him a weak smile, but it’s genuine, and he knows Kuramochi can tell when he gives him a small satisfied nod.

“I’m sorry I upset you Miyuki, but next time just tell me. I may understand asshole, but I can’t read minds, you know.” That gets a laugh out of him, the two finally separating.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the talking type.”

“Wow, I never noticed.”

It’s not that funny, but Kazuya laughs like it is anyway. He feels lighter than he has in a while, but he’s still nervous after being so vulnerable, his instincts still telling him to run.

But he’s tired of being alone, and he thinks he might finally be ready to try meeting Kuramochi halfway.

“But I can try.” He gets a questioning hum of acknowledgement, but isn’t interrupted. “I’m, I’m going to do better. I might not get it right a lot of the time though, so bear with me?”

Kuramochi searches his gaze, and he tries hard not to flinch away. “Well, I’m still here aren’t I?”

“Yeah, you are.”

To his endless embarrassment and joy, the touches come back, and Kazuya’s stress finally becomes more manageable. He still has too much to do and worry about, but with his current stalemate with Zono and his equilibrium restored with Kuramochi, he feels he can maybe do this captain thing and not fuck it up.

He still has no idea how he’s going to fix most of the problems with the team, but he isn’t drowning anymore, so he’s taking the win where he can.

So of course, just to spite him, that’s when life throws him another curveball in the form of the new assistant coach Ochiai.

Kazuya isn’t sure what to think of the man, he seems to know his stuff, but something about him rubs him the wrong way. It could be how he gives ‘advice’ that sounds like a dig at their plays, or how on edge Kazuya feels when he notices Ochiai watching their drills. He just can’t figure the man out, and he’s too busy to give it too much thought, but it’s there in the back of his mind regardless.

So it doesn’t come as too much of a surprise when he figures out Ochiai is here to replace Kataoka, all the pieces coming together to paint a more cohesive picture of the situation. One he greatly dislikes, but decides to use to his advantage to help the team finally rally together.

Because he’ll be damned if the team he’s been trying so hard to make sure doesn’t fall apart gets screwed over by some upstart assistant coach with delusions of grandeur.

Okay, maybe he’s being a little harsh, but he’s finally getting a handle on this captain thing, and he really doesn’t need anything messing that up, least of all this, and he’s glad to see others agree with him.

They’re going to bring Kataoka to nationals if it’s the last thing they do.

His biggest saving grace throughout all of this is Kuramochi, whether it’s as his vice captain or just his friend, and he’s a little concerned how much he’s relying on the shortstop, but he can’t help himself anymore. After his breakdown a few weeks back, he’s been making a more conscious effort to meet him halfway, to actually try, and the friendship that blooms makes him feel ridiculously happy, enough to muffle his cries of panic that he’s getting too close.

Of course as soon as he gets comfortable with tempering his flight instincts, he starts noticing all the ways that what he has with Kuramochi now isn’t quite just friendship anymore, no matter how much he’s trying to ignore the signs.

But just because he was ignoring the signs, doesn’t mean others were also.

He’s mainly embarrassed that it’s Sawamura of all people that approaches him about it.

“Hey Cap, are you doing okay?” Kazuya looks over Sawamura and he barely keeps in a flinch looking at the pitcher. The bags under his eyes are starting to get better but he still looks a little rough, a little fragile, and yet he’s asking if Kazuya is okay.

Once again he wishes he could have done more than just get Chris to teach him the outside pitch, that he could just do more in general, but he finds his hands tied more everyday. So even if it’s just helping him refine this changeup, (which wow, sometimes he forgets Sawamura didn’t have a proper coach, that he’s still learning how to play baseball in some areas) he’ll do it, because it’s what he can do at this moment.

Even if Sawamura deserves a lot better.

“I’m fine, Sawamura. Plus I don’t think you have the time to be worrying over me, what with Furuya still being the ace!” It’s a cheap shot back to their normal, he actually feels a little bad for it, but he doesn’t want to have this talk with Sawamura. He expects him to rise to the bait, but the kid’s too good at defying his expectations, and his heart bleeds too much.

“Shut up Miyuki Kazuya, I’m being serious!” And those words paired with those still too dull eyes makes Kazuya pause and straighten up. “You and Kuramochi-senpai have been acting really weird, and, you don’t need to tell me any details, because you’re a slippery bastard like that, but well, I guess I’m trying to say you can talk to me if you need to! Even if it’s about the weather, or even homework, if you just need to talk about nothing to make you feel better, I can listen!”

He looks so earnest and sincere, full of concern for Kazuya when he knows from Kuramochi that Sawamura still has trouble sleeping some nights despite how hard he tries to pretend he’s just fine. He sees for the first time some light back in those eyes, even if it’s not as sharp as before, it’s there. Sawamura is trying, and even if Kazuya doesn’t think he deserves that concern, he thinks maybe he should try more with him too.

Kuramochi really is making him soft.

“Alright, you win.” The training room is empty thankfully, and he briefly wonders if Sawamura planned it that way knowing how Kazuya can be about personal matters. He settles on the ground, gesturing near him for Sawamura to sit, which he does, before he starts picking at the ground to avoid eye contact. “I am okay, Sawamura, thanks for the concern, I’m just a little…”

He trails off trying to find the right words, but Sawamura just sits patiently next to him. It’s odd to see, the pitcher is usually loud and hyperactive, but ever since he got the yips, he’s been quieter, though some of his noisiness is gradually coming back now.

“I’m just thinking too much I guess.”

Sawamura rolls his eyes a bit as his nonanswer. “You always think too much Cap.”

“Ha! I guess I really do.”

Silence, and then, “What are you overthinking this time then?”

Kazuya stops picking at the ground to steeple his fingers in his lap, looking at them instead of Sawamura’s probing stare. “I’m not good with people𑁋”

“You can say that again!” Kazuya gives him a withering glare. “Sorry, continue.”

“I’m not good with people, and I don’t really care to be, but… I’ve been trying recently, especially with Kuramochi. I think I’ve been doing decently, but then there are these… moments, and I don’t know what’s happening I guess? No, I do know, I just don’t know how to approach it? Like, I feel a lot in those moments and I kind of hate it but don’t.”

Sawamura’s quiet, but it’s thoughtful, Kazuya can see him working out what little he’s been given. “So basically, you’ve been trying to be a better friend to Kuramochi-senpai, and now that you are, you’re catching feelings?”

Kazuya squawks at the wording, “I-I’m not catching feelings𑁋”

He gets the most exasperated look he’s ever received from anyone, which is saying something. “You literally just described a typical feelings realization scene from a shoujo manga!”

Well, he kind of has him there, but he’s still going to fight it. “Real life isn’t a shoujo manga Sawamura.”

“No it isn’t, plenty of those protagonists don’t live in as much denial as you do Miyuki Kazuya!”

He can’t help the burst of laughter that escapes him, the realization that Sawamura has been spending too much time with Kuramochi to make that rebuttal. He’s honestly impressed.

“It’s not that easy.”

Sawamura glances away briefly before meeting his eyes again. He looks a little out of his depth, but determined to be of help to Kazuya anyway. He knows Sawamura is plenty in tune with his emotions, so he can only imagine he’s just not used to helping Kazuya, which is fair, he rarely lets anyone see this side of him, and the one person he does is his current problem.

“Miyuki Kazuya, when is anything worth doing easy?” He gives a small start at that, Sawamura continuing on. “I don’t know your entire situation, but from my point of view you two care about each other a lot! Even if it didn’t work out, I think you guys would be okay. But you have to actually try Cap! It’s okay to want to be happy.”

“Heh, when did you get so smart, Sawamura?”

“You know I’m not actually that dumb right!?”

Kazuya thinks of Sawamura being too honest but genuine, being too loud but always listening, being too afraid but fearless. He thinks of Sawamura learning baseball for the first time and finding the joy in that instead of being jaded that he’s behind the others. He thinks of all the times he catches him pitching to the net, hard work and patience building to fight his yips, despite how hopeless it probably feels some nights.

Sawamura Eijun is a lot of things, but dumb isn’t one of them.

“No, I know you’re not Sawamura. You just have your moments~” He can’t help the tease, plus if he gives a genuine compliment to Sawamura without one he would probably think Kazuya was playing a prank on him again.

He goes a little cat eyed at the tease, but he doesn’t blow up like normal, letting out a calming breath instead. “Just think about it, okay? And don’t overthink it, we need you to overthink for our games instead Cap!”

They both break into light laughter and Kazuya can honestly say he feels lighter after talking to Sawamura. Glancing over at the other boy shows he looks a little brighter too, not as burdened as before. It’ll still be a while before Sawamura is okay, but right here, right now, he feels pretty hopeful that they’ll both be alright.

Despite his talk with Sawamura, Kazuya continues to ignore his growing feelings. It isn’t a fully conscious decision on his part, the tournament is getting even more intense and he really doesn’t have the time or energy to spare when they’re trying so hard to make it to nationals.

To make sure Kataoka doesn’t leave.

Though even if he hasn’t talked to Kuramochi, that doesn’t mean things between them have slowed down either. They still manage to spend plenty of time together, even if it’s dying during practices and winning games. If anything the tension between them builds with every victory they gain, the feelings of untouchability from summer lingering in the back of his mind with every smile they share.

He feels like he’s drowning even while he’s floating in the clouds.

And then he gets tackled into home plate by Seiko’s pitcher.

Really, Kazuya wants to do a lot of things after that happens, but he’s in the middle of a game, so he does his job. It’s been a while since he’s been physically hurt that badly, the shock of the event almost rivaling the actual flare of pain that erupts in his side. He can see all the concerned faces, Kuramochi standing out the most, but he walks it off with a viciously satisfied smirk, because for all the pain he’s in, he got Seiko’s pitcher out.

The look of frustration on his face from his stunt not working drives Kazuya for the rest of the game, the home run he hits to end the game filling him with enough satisfaction to numb the pain until they get back to campus. It’s only after the post game meeting and avoiding Kuramochi’s overly concerned stare when he’s alone in his room does he let himself fall to pieces as he grabs the first aid kid under his bed.

He really wishes he didn’t have to use it, but he takes small comfort in knowing it wasn’t because of a teammate this time, that Seidou is still different even if there are breeds of players that aren’t.

Kazuya manages to wrap up his side and pass out easily, but the next morning the pain is sharper and he counts to ten before he forces himself to get up anyway.

It’s tough, and painful, and if he didn’t have so much practice going through his days while injured he might have crumpled, but he does so he doesn’t. Kazuya knows he can’t shake Kuramochi forever, but he hopes he can at least fool everyone else because they’re so close to nationals, and he’s the main catcher, the fourth batter, the captain, he can’t afford to break down here.

He can’t let his team down when it matters the most, not when there’s still fight left in him, he won’t let himself be the weak link.

So he grits his teeth and uses his most braying laughter with his sleaziest smirks, anything to show he’s fine. For the most part it works, no one the wiser when he assures everyone he’s fine and ready for the finals.

But Kuramochi’s always been the exception hasn’t he?

Kazuya’s eventually cornered by the shortstop, his fierce glare brokering no excuses until the truth comes spilling out. He expects Kuramochi to drag him to the coaches to get checked out, but instead he’s told to tough it out if he’s so set on doing this.

And it makes absolutely no sense that while he switches between grilling him and fussing that Kazuya feels dizzy from all the warmth in his heart, his cheeks probably a little pink at the feeling, but standing there as Kuramochi grumbles and checks him over gently, he finally gets it.

He feels important, cared for, precious, and his head swims trying to juggle the new sensations along the pinpricks of pain that flare up every once in a while the longer they just stand there.

As if sensing his growing discomfort, Kuramochi huffs, grabbing his arm gently and bringing him back to the bench where no one is paying them any attention. He sits right next to him, bumping their thighs together and leaning close as if they’re just discussing the game’s strategy.

“I know I said tough it out until we win, but, if it really gets unbearable, tell me okay?”

Despite how warm he felt in the face of Kuramchi’s gentle care, he can’t help the teasing comment that comes out. Old habits die hard. “How sweet Mochi, it almost sounds like you care about me~”

Kuramochi levels him with a gentle smile even as his brows furrow a bit at Kazuya’s words. “Of course I do, haven’t I made that clear enough by now?”

Kazuya’s shocked into silence, but is saved by the game officially starting and pushing the pain away to win. The game is honestly a mess on all angles but he pushes through with all his determination and sheer force of will. He may have been a little insane to go for that run, the slide setting his body on fire, but he doesn’t regret it even as he gets checked out by the doctor and chewed out by Rei.

He’d do it all again in a heartbeat, doubly so when they win, punching their ticket to Spring Koshien.

Triply so when he gets to lean against Kuramochi in the taxi to the hospital, their hands tangled together and hidden as he laughs while Zono berates Kazuya for hiding his injury.

Okay, he has a few regrets, but they’re mainly that he has to sit out while he heals and miss the Jingu Tournament which they sadly lose. The team does pretty great without him, though he still decides to poke at them instead, hoping to rile all of them up to keep improving, especially with nationals in a few months.

He does enjoy his break from running the team though, content to watch Kuramochi fill in and take charge, getting to try supporting him for a change. He’s not very good at it, but if the relieved smiles Kazuya gets when he brings Kuramochi his favorite drink or after he lets him rant about the newest crazy stunt the team pulled are any indicator, he’s not doing too badly.

Another bright side is that he gets to do his physical therapy with Chris, the two motivating each other on rough days. Kazuya has always admired the other catcher, but they’ve never really connected since Chris got injured right before he came to Seidou. He still wishes he could have won his position against him fairly, but seeing Chris work so hard to get back to playing, he finds some hope that they can still compete in the future.

It doesn’t stop him from asking during one of their breaks if Chris thinks he could have gotten them to nationals in the summer though.

“Huh? Where is this coming from Miyuki?” He looks confused, and honestly so is Kazuya, but he thinks deep down this may have been a long time coming.

“I… I guess I’ve always wondered if you were still the main catcher if you would have caught how scared Sawamura was and done more. That maybe if he had a better catcher then maybe he wouldn’t have gotten the𑁋” He can’t even say the word, the shame he’s been holding onto from that match still simmering under all the responsibilities he buried it under. He knows he’s a great catcher, hailed as his generation’s best, but he remembers how many times he rewatched that tape to see where he went wrong, how he had to get the older catcher to help Sawamura gain a lifeline, how he wouldn’t be the main catcher if Chris had never even gotten injured.

He thinks of all his mistakes and what they’ve cost the team and he wants to hide.

“Is that why you hid your injury from the team, because you’re trying to make up for the summer? Or… are you punishing yourself Miyuki?” Kazuya can hear a thin veil of disapproval in the worry of Chris’ voice making him curl up a bit in defense.

“It, it wasn’t a conscious thing, but maybe? I just, I should have done better, and I didn’t. And sometimes I think you would have done better because, well, I didn’t exactly earn my spot, did I?” He has a self deprecating smile and while he would normally hate bearing his thoughts like this, he knows of all people Chris won’t judge him. Also talking it out with Kuramochi first after he reamed him enough over his dumb stunt in private definitely helped him have his thoughts in order for this. He never planned to have this talk with Chris, but his frustration over not playing loosens his lips. “I know I shouldn’t dwell on it, heck we made it to nationals this time right, it’s fine? But I guess I just…”

He trails off, not knowing where else to take his thoughts, but Chris clears his throat, gaining his attention again. “You can’t help but think back on what-ifs right? Well Miyuki, don’t you think I do the same? Not a day goes by where I don’t think about what if I hadn’t been stubborn about my arm, then maybe I could have played with all my batchmates one last time. But Miyuki, staying in those thoughts didn’t help me, and they won’t help you either. It’s easy to drown in self doubt and think of what-ifs, but it takes more to take those mistakes and move forward to improve.

“I know you hate that you didn’t catch how Sawamura was feeling on the mound, but I can honestly say I don’t know if I would have caught it either. We were all high on the adrenaline of winning and no one can know how they’ll react in a situation until they’re actually in it. I’m not perfect Miyuki, I make mistakes, just look where we are.” He waves around them at the workout room they’re currently in for that session. “And it’s okay that you aren’t either. Plus, look at it this way. Because that happened, you’ve become more attentive towards the pitchers right?”

“I still couldn’t help Sawamura though.”

“Miyuki, you became captain, it’s okay to know you can’t do everything, you know that right? And even though you couldn’t help him, you got help from someone that could, that’s still helping you know. Maybe it’s not as direct as you wanted, but you still did something. And now, you can take that knowledge and use it going forward. It’s okay to have regrets, Miyuki, just don’t let them stop you from playing the game you love. We’re all still growing and getting better, and that never really stops, so it’s okay to stumble. Just promise me you’ll always get back up when you do.” He lays a hand on Kazuya’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, a comforting smile aimed at him that makes him want to cry, though the tears never come.

He feels small, but not in the way his bullies made him feel. It’s closer to what it felt like to be cradled in his mother’s arms when he was scared of storms, knowing he was safe, that he wouldn’t be hurt.

It’s been a long time since he felt this kind of comfort.

“Heh, I’ll try Chris-senpai.” Kazuya gives him a weak smile back, but it’s honest, his soul feeling raw from exposure. He wants to run away again, but the warmth of realizing more people care, people that don’t have to care, is a feeling he wants to bask in a little longer before he tucks his heart away again.

“Good, and you can always talk to me if you need to, I don’t mind.” Chris stands up then, stretching a bit before they head back to their session. “Oh, and Miyuki? For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a pretty good job.”

Kazuya really wants to cry, but he stands up instead to join him.

“Thank you Chris-senpai, that, that means a lot, coming from you.”

He gets a wider smile, and then the two are back to their reps, the air filled with determined grunts instead, but it’s for the best. Kazuya still feels too seen, but he’s starting to think it’s not the worst feeling in the world anymore.

A few weeks pass and Kazuya returns to the team without much fanfare, and he finally feels like he belongs in his own skin again. He throws himself back into practice as much as he can without anyone, mainly Kurmaochi and Rei, trying to drag him off of it for more breaks than he thinks are necessary.

He kind of likes how much Kuramochi fusses over him though, his face going softer as he pouts and grumbles over how Kazuya needs to take better care of himself. It doesn’t feel like he’s being coddled or smothered, just cared for, and it’s really nice. It makes him softer in turn, the two often in his room discussing the team, homework, small things, and even nothing.

It feels comfortable, something he hasn’t had in a long time, and the opportunity to talk to Kuramochi about everything he’s feeling is always there, but he always finds a way to back out at the last minute. He doesn’t know if Kuramochi can tell or not, but he tends to adopt a frustrated look at some point during their hangouts, and even looks like he’s on the verge of saying something himself before he huffs and moves on.

The tension grows, but neither breaks it, even as Kuzuya knows their odd stalemate can’t last forever, even as he wishes they could stay in their nice bubble.

It all comes to a head before they’re all set to go home for winter break.

Kazuya’s a little apprehensive to go home, worried his dad is going to fuss over him too much when he gets there. He had told him over the phone plenty that he was fine, and he doesn’t think his dad will smother him, but with how worried he’d sounded, Kazuya has no idea how seeing him in person will go. He’s just finishing up his packing when he hears a knock at his door, opening it to see Kuramochi huddled in his fuzziest scarf before he trudges inside.

One of Kazuya’s favorite facts to learn about Kuramochi is that he hates the cold so much, he’s amassed a collection of scarves for all the different levels of it.

He shouldn’t have found that as cute as he does.

“Hello to you too Mochi, come right in.” He says it in his most deadpan voice, knowing it’ll irk Kuramochi, but some fondness does slip through.

“Oh shut it, you four eyed bastard.” Kazuya loves being right.

“So what do I owe this pleasure? I thought you already went home.”

“I’m about to, but, um.” He fidgets, shifting from foot to foot, not making eye contact as his cheeks get a little pink, and Kazuya’s interest is definitely piqued by the obvious embarrassment he’s feeling. “I, um, well. My mom wanted me to ask if you wanted to spend a few days with us during the break at one point.”

Kazuya blinks in shock. “What? Why?”

Kuramochi gets a little pinker as he scratches his cheek. “Well, she knows we’re, friends, and I might have, maybe, sort of, told her we’re… you know.”

Oh Kazuya does not like where this is going, he does not like this at all. He was finally starting to warm up to them being maybe more than friends if he ever said anything and Kuramochi didn’t clock him for it, but this? Meeting his mom and her knowing they’re soulmates? He’s not ready for that at all, they’ve barely even admitted it among themselves after that night they confirmed it last year. He feels wound up, and the urge to lash out and escape is so strong that he doesn’t fight it.

A deep part of him wails at his decision. He ignores it.

“What, soulmates? Seems a little optimistic to mention that when we’ve just made the friends benchmark Mochi-kun!” He bares his teeth, his smirk taunting, adding a little lilt to Kuramochi’s name to get the reaction he’s looking for.

But how could he forget that this is Kuramochi, who’s set on defying his expectations.

“You know, for someone who says we just became friends, you’re really good at reading me and knowing how to rile me up.” That wipes the smirk off Kazuya’s face, making Kuramochi step closer when he sees him falter. “You keep saying you only want to be teammates, but then you get upset when I treat you as just that! And then when we finally get somewhere as friends, you can’t handle the acknowledgement. And then you do these things that show how much you watch me, which is just as much as I watch you.”

“I don’t watch you𑁋”

“You do! Or you wouldn’t have made that smarmy face to irk me, which it still does by the way, or call me ‘Mochi-kun’, which you only do when you’re trying to piss me off! Or say the word soulmates like it personally offends you in some desperate bid to distance yourself from it. You know it bothers me, but I know you only do it when you’re trying to hide from me.” He takes more steps closer to Kazuya, who in turn retreats to match his pace.

“Well I don’t owe you anything Kuramochi.” His back hits his bunk, his hands twitching to grab some part to ground himself.

Kuramochi is inches away, glowering at his answer, anger ablaze in his eyes as he refuses to let Kazuya run away again. “Maybe not, but I am your soulmate, that’s not a fact you can just erase. I don’t expect much, but you could at least be honest with me! I get it, you hate other people seeing what’s underneath your asshole exterior, so you push them away with your barbed words, pushing buttons, basically doing anything to have people hate you, but for what!? What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid of anything!” Kazuya knows he’s a coward. That doesn’t mean he appreciates being called out on it.

A hand fists in his shirt, bringing him closer, their faces uncomfortably close, reminiscent of their last fight, but even as Kazuya feels warm from the closeness, he wants to retreat before he’s burned. He hates it, he wants to be closer, he wants to push Kuramochi off, he wishes he could be brave. “Bullshit! You may be one of the most fearless people on the diamond, but outside of it? You’re the biggest coward I know!”

It’s true. It’s so true Kazuya wants to cry, but he hasn’t cried since his mother died and he’s not even sure if he can anymore, no matter how many times he’s come close since coming to Seidou. The urge sits violently under his skin, screaming in refusal even as it claws to break free. “So what if I am! No one can leave me if I am!”

Silence, heavy pants between them, some loud laughter pierces through his door from other teammates leaving campus. Kuramochi’s fist loosens, sliding flat against his chest, his heart thumping too fast. He expects shock or pity or anything else he doesn’t want to see in his eyes, but when they finally make eye contact, his breath is stolen away.

The sheer amount of pained understanding in those tawny eyes makes Kazuya’s heart ache, and he forgets to breathe.

“Maybe you’re right. But what about the people you leave behind Miyuki?”

“I…”

Kuramochi steps back a bit, still close, but enough that Kazuya feels he can finally breathe again. His hand is still a brand on his chest. “I know what it’s like to be left behind. It sucks, like a lot, it really does. And sometimes shit just happens so I can’t promise I’ll never leave you, but I can promise you it won’t be willingly.”

He lets his hand finally drop, but Kazuya immediately grabs it like a lifeline, peering into Kuramochi’s eyes which stare back unflinchingly. “Y-you𑁋”

Kazuya hates being seen. He hates being speechless even more, his shield of choice being rendered useless.

“I’ll tell my mom you’re too busy, but when we get back, we’re going to talk about this Miyuki. Even if it’s you telling me to get lost, I just can’t keep doing this weird back and forth we have anymore. I won’t keep getting my hopes up.”

“W-what, why are you...?”

“You really do have nothing but baseball on your mind, huh?” Kuramochi has a frustrated but incredibly fond look in his eyes, and before Kazuya can voice the words he’s finally found, he feels a brief pressure against his cheek, feather light and gone after it registers. Kuramochi is red but stands tall as he takes another step away from Kazuya. “You’re smart sometimes Miyuki, figure it out.”

When Kazuya finally comes back to himself, Kuramochi is gone, the door shut behind him, the noise a signal for his legs to give out. He raises a trembling hand to his cheek as he shudders out a breath, leaning against the frame of the bunk behind him. His face is hot, and he can feel his heart trying to beat out of his chest, his mind blank, replaying that moment over and over.

Kazuya stays on the floor for hours before he manages to leave for break.

He’s only been home for four days when his dad finally approaches him about his weird mood, asking if he’s okay after zoning out for the third time that evening. He has a rebuttal on the tip of his tongue, not wanting to worry his dad who looks dead on his feet after a long day of work, when Kuramochi’s words come back to him.

But what about the people you leave behind Miyuki?

Kazuya swallows his denial and takes a hard look at his dad, seeing the dark circles under his eyes, but the earnest concern in them as well. He puts down the bowl he was washing, turning the water off before he stares at the sink, trying to find his words. Toku just waits for him, because if anyone understands how he thinks, it would be his father, the similarities between them only growing as Kazuya grew older.

Eventually Kazuya decides to start with a question he’s always been afraid to ask.

“If you knew how it was going to end, would you have still been with mom?” Toku starts, and Kazuya fills with guilt, already backtracking. “I’m sorry, that was, I shouldn’t have𑁋”

“Yes.”

Kazuya stops his rambling, wide eyes trained on his dad, who takes a seat at the table, slowly and tiredly. He bites back everything else he wants to say to ask, “Why?”

“Because I love her. Because even if it ended painfully, I got to love her Kazuya. Your mother was the brightest person I knew, so when she died, it broke me because that light was gone.”

“I know dad.” Kazuya comments quietly, eyes never leaving his dad’s.

Toku gives Kazuya a pained smile, brittle at the edges. “It took me too long to realize she left all her light with you Kazuya. But I ruined that by making you grow up too fast, didn’t I? I should have been there for you more𑁋”

“You did your best dad, you had a business to run, to provide for me. I understood that.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to Kazuya. You were just a kid, and even though I lost my wife, you also lost your mother.”

“I…”

“It’s okay to be angry with me Kazuya. Maybe you don’t realize it right now, or don’t want to get into it quite yet, but when you are, I won’t run away from it. I owe you more than that. But that isn’t why you asked me about your mother, is it?” Toku has a gentle look in his tired eyes, one full of so much love, one he hasn’t seen in a while, one that reminds him of better days spent in the sun with laughter and love, smiles that never dimmed until the emptiness came, and Kazuya just breaks.

“I found my soulmate. But I remember how broken you were after mom died, and I-I, I don’t know what to do dad. I don’t want to be left behind again, I, dad, what do I do?” He babbles, the words barely leaving his lips as he’s pulled gently into a warm boney hug, Kazuya briefly thinking his father isn’t eating enough again before he feels a hand pet his hair.

He doesn’t cry, because after years of conditioning not to, it still isn’t easy to let himself have that just yet, but he grips his dad’s back, chasing the warmth.

Toku continues to pet his hair and the other hand rubs his back, apologies spilling forth, for everything and nothing, but the combined efforts get him to calm down enough to loosen his grip on his dad’s shirt. They both lean against the counter now, neither moving or talking, but the silence isn’t oppressive like it’s been in the past, like it was only a few hours ago.

“A soulmate is a gift Kazuya, no matter how long they stay in your life. And if you get close and something happens, it’ll hurt, it hurts so bad, but son, the time you get is still worth it.” He pulls back a bit, but his hands come to frame Kazuya’s face to look him in the eyes, and he can’t look away at the fierceness in them. “I will always miss your mother, but the years I got with her I will always treasure, and I still have you Kazuya, my wonderful son. And I’m going to do better, because you shouldn’t be afraid of people. Things happen, but the people that matter will always stay with you even when they’re gone.”

Toku breathes, and Kazuya takes a breath with him, unaware of when he stopped.

“Sometimes people leave, sometimes they’re taken before you’re ready, but Kazuya, it’ll always be worth all the pain of having experienced loving them. Because we weren’t meant to be alone, as people, as Miyukis, we need others to truly live, and I’m sorry I’ve forced you to be alone when you didn’t have to be.”

Kazuya takes another breath. “You didn’t force me, dad.”

He gives an unimpressed look, one he knows he’s given to plenty of other people as well, so seeing it directed at himself is slightly off putting. “No, I only drove you to force it upon yourself.”

“Ah…” He can’t really say anything to that, so he doesn’t.

Toku’s hands slide down to grip his shoulders, the contact solid and grounding to Kazuya who still feels untethered by the conversation he started. “I’m not saying you have to love your soulmate like how I love your mother, but don’t push them away Kazuya. Life is hard, and just having someone with you can make it worth living.”

“But what if he’s taken from me like mom was from you?” His father doesn’t visibly react to the gender of his soulmate, not that he expected him to, but the silent acceptance does help Kazuya relax a tad more.

“Kazuya, the real question you need to ask yourself is will you regret the time spent together if it ends tomorrow, or will you regret never trying in the first place.” He stays silent at that, mulling over the question instead of immediately refuting it like he normally would as Toku pulls away slowly. “Just think about it Kazuya, and when you’re ready to tell me about him, I’ll be here. But first, let's finish these dishes, together, okay?”

He only manages a nod, the work going quicker with the two of them, and before he knows it, Kazuya is laying on his bed, staring at his ceiling. He listens to the silence, and for once hears the shuffles of his dad getting ready for bed, the buzz of the streetlamps, the creaking of the house, the slight wind tapping at his window.

Kazuya thinks he finally understands what his father meant last year when he said he missed his noise while he was at Seidou, as he takes in all the sounds that create their own brand of silence and slips off to sleep, lighter than he’s been in a long time.

This year Kazuya is the one to send the happy new year text, right at midnight. When he wakes up the next morning he finds a simple happy new year as the response, which makes him crack a small smile.

It’s something.

Being back at Seidou still fills Kazuya with a comfortable warmth. Even with things getting better with his dad, the atmosphere of Seidou still calms him immensely, making him feel at ease. He’s always told himself it’s because here he can just focus on baseball, and while that’s true, he’s come to see it’s also the people around him that make it great.

And one person that makes it even better for Kazuya in particular.

He feels the need to find Kuramochi war with the need to stall and figure out what he’s going to say first. The choice is ultimately taken away when he sees Kuramochi wrapped up in a thick scarf leaning against his door scrolling through his phone, waiting for him. Kazuya stops a few feet away when he notices him, pocketing his phone immediately.

They stare at each other in silence, Kazuya only moving when he hears others coming down the hall, grabbing Kuramochi as he unlocks his door and shoves them inside. It’s quiet, except for Kuramochi’s grumbles over being manhandled, but it’s private, which suits their conversation much better.

Now that they’re alone though, Kazuya doesn’t know where to start, so he drops his bag on his bunk to stall. It’s a good thing Kuramochi always does.

“So you texted me.”

“I did.”

“You never text me first.”

“It was just a happy new year text.”

“Miyuki𑁋”

“I’m sorry.” Kuramochi gives him a surprised yet cautious look, but nods for Kazuya to continue. “I, I got scared when you brought up your mom because meeting her makes this real, and I don’t even know what we are. I’ve been trying to figure out how to verbalize how I feel, but I kept chickening out because I suck at feelings okay? And I lash out when people get close because that’s so much easier than being honest, but I want to be, with you.”

Kuramochi takes a long look at him, crossing his arms and facing Kazuya fully. “Then tell me.”

“Okay, alright, um.” Kazuya wipes his hands on his jeans as he takes a deep breath, but manages to meet Kuramochi’s eyes steadily. The urge to run is there, it might be there for a long time, ingrained from years of running, but the need to try is stronger.

He thinks of empty houses that smell of incense, broken glasses on his bruised face, the first aid kit still under his bed.

He’s tired of being alone.

“I like you, no I, I really like you.” Kuramochi’s eyes widen, but he thankfully stays quiet. “And I’m so terrified I’m going to lose you because I’ve never been able to keep the things that make me happy. Except baseball, which was enough, but it’s not anymore because now I know how you leap after a grounder, your dumb cackles when you manage a steal, and your grin when you score. You’ve added more to baseball, just like you added more to everything else in my life, and it terrifies me. You terrify me, but it also thrills me because of course my soulmate would be tied up in baseball, and damn great at it too. It's been all I had for so long.”

Kazuya takes a moment, looking at Kuramochi who seems to be hanging on his every word, a desperate yet hopeful edge in his eyes. In a flare of bravery, Kazuya takes a step closer, slowly reaching for his still crossed arms to the hand he can see. Once he catches on, Kuramochi unfurls them, hesitantly letting his hand be taken and cradled by Kazuya who takes another step closer to him.

He doesn’t know how, maybe it’s their barely there soulmate bond, or their friendship, or even just the hours he’s spent in Kuramochi’s company, but Kazuya knows he needs to show him this way too that he’s sincere. That he won’t run from any of his signs of affection, not anymore.

He’s tired of running, even if he’s always been too good at it.

“I’ve been alone for a long time, I don’t know how to let people in, but you made me want to try. And once I started, I saw that there are other people who care, people I was too afraid to let in. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still afraid, but you make me want to be brave Kuramochi. For you more than anyone, because it’s what you deserve.”

“...uichi.” Kuramochi’s face reddens as he mumbles.

“What was that?”

“I said! ...You can call me Youichi.” The hand not in his own comes up to hide his face a bit, but the red is bright and pretty on his cheeks, and Kazuya’s a little (a lot) smitten.

“Youichi.” Kuramochi blinks, clearly not expecting Kazuya to try it immediately when the red gets even darker, but he has a pleased smile on his face. “I really like you Youichi, and I think, no I know, I can be brave with you too. Will you give me the chance to be?”

“You’re such an idiot.” It’s the only warning he gets before Kuramochi is ripping his hand out of his hold, only to grab him by his jacket’s lapels, pulling him down and closer, slotting their mouths together roughly. It’s not a very good first kiss, too much teeth and Kazuya’s still frozen in shock, so Kuramochi pulls back a little to readjust their angles and when they meet again, it’s softer but no less heated. He settles his hands on his waist, sliding them back a bit to pull the shortstop flush against him, wanting more contact as his toes curl from the kiss.

It’s not Kazuya’s first kiss, but it’s the first to make him really understand why people obsess over it so much.

They come up for air, barely moving away from each other, panting loudly as they stare into the other’s eyes. Kuramochi’s hand comes up to gently cup his cheek, a soft smile on his lips before it turns mischievous. “I told you you can be smart sometimes, Miyuki.”

He blames his overwhelming fondness for that smile and the high from their kiss when he responds breathlessly, “Call me Kazuya.”

“Are you sure?” Kazuya brings his own hands up to cradle Kuramochi’s face, the hand on his own moving to his wrist. “Miyu—”

“Please.”

“...Kazuya.”

The name is barely from his lips when Kazuya kisses him, a desperate edge that he doesn’t try to hide. It’s not as drawn out as the one before, but when he pulls back, Kazuya can see the slightly dazed look on Kuramochi’s face, a thrill shooting through him at being the cause.

“I don’t want to hide anymore, not from you. I’m going to mess up sometimes, probably a lot if we’re honest. I may even backtrack, but I’m going to keep trying. So will you stay, with me?”

Kuramochi’s eyes sharpen as he takes in all of Kazuya’s words, but his expression is tender, making him ache in response. “I’m still here aren’t I? Even with your shitty personality.”

“Hey now, you’re no walk in the park either You~ich~i!” He shivers at Kazuya drawing out his name, a small tidbit he pockets for now as he leans closer.

“Maybe not, but you’re such a handful, I guess I’ll never have a dull moment at least.” Kuramochi lets go of his wrist to push back some of Kazuya’s fringe, the touch gentle.

Kazuya feels like glass, like he wants to shatter in the face of all this easy affection he doesn’t really believe he deserves.

But seeing how at ease Kuramochi is in his space, how much contact he’s trying to keep between them, how he’s still here with Kazuya, his heart is bursting at the seams, and for once he’s not afraid to be here, to be vulnerable.

“But I’m your handful now, so get ready for all the early gray hairs~” It’s mainly a joke, an easy tease to make in the moment. Because while Kazuya would like to fully believe Kuramochi will be with him for a long time, part of him will always wonder how realistic that belief is, even as he fosters hope to counter that for the first time in a while.

“As long as you have some to match me too, we can call it even.”

At the subtle affirmation that Kuramochi isn’t going anywhere, Kazuya feels himself falling, and he finally allows it to happen.