Archive of Our Own

People like underdog stories because they get to see unlikely heroes win. They see that and think that if those guys can do it, then they can do anything too. It’s an established tale that never gets old, so it gets retold over and over again, inspiring people always.

But no one tells the story of the underdog that loses in the end anyway.

Shunpei can’t help thinking of that as he walks away from the baseball field for the fourth time that week before he can even step foot on it.

Losing to Ichidai shouldn’t feel this soul crushing for a match of a sport that isn’t supposed to mean as much as it does now. Shunpei had a plan for highschool, and getting so absorbed into baseball wasn’t it. He was going to coast through high school just like he did with middle school, and maybe he would go to college or maybe he would just start working, but it was going to be an easy life.

An easy, simple, boring life for a kid that doesn’t have anyone waiting for him, his body a blank canvas, empty and void of any words that would connect him to anyone.

It isn’t the life he wants, but it’s what others expect from him and Shunpei has come to accept living a dull life. After all, how could someone that fate abandoned do anything worth anticipating?

And then Shunpei gets a text, takes his phone out, and sees the tiny banana charm dangling from the end and he remembers.

“This is my son Raichi. He’ll be coming here next spring with a couple of players with my seal of approval. And then you’re all going to take me to Koshien.”

He’s avoiding the team and he knows it, but he can’t stop at this point, too ashamed of how he’s taking the loss and retirement from the team. He was their ace and he let them down, but more than that he’s running away. They deserve better than their washed up ace leaving them all hanging after losing the summer tournament like the coward he is.

Shunpei gazes at the field from his hiding spot and the absence of loud cackles and challenges being thrown is jarring. The team continues like normal but there’s a notable shift in energy, practice lacking its usual vibrancy without the heart of the team there to bolster them.

Or maybe no one feels that absence except Shunpei, his heart in the hands of a boy he let down, who isn’t here to make baseball worthwhile.

He hasn’t spoken to Raichi in a few days, the younger boy stuttering out that his dad was going to have him work with someone else for a while so he wouldn’t be at the field if Shunpei comes looking for him. Shunpei had just smiled and ruffled his hair, telling him he’s always welcome to stop by his house if he wants.

Raichi hasn’t visited him since that day, and he tells himself he expected this.

Shunpei walks away, leaving the screams and shouts of practice behind of a team he doesn’t belong to anymore.

“Sanada-senpai! What was that pitch!? It was so cool!”

“Haha, just something I’ve been working on. Finally struck you out!”

“Kahahaha, I’ll hit it next time!”

“Heh, I have no doubt you will.”

It’s quiet when Shunpei gets home, just as it has been the last week every time he gets back now. His parents know Yakushi lost, and they’ve offered their words of comfort, but he sees how their eyes fill with pity at dinner when he returns from being outside doing who knows what instead of dropping by the field to see the team.

He never tells them he can’t bring himself to visit, but they can probably tell from his clean clothes, hair still perfectly styled, and that he gets home before the sun is even close to setting when he used to arrive well after dark to a plate of food he had to reheat himself. They can definitely tell from how he hasn’t even mentioned baseball, despite his stubborn persistence in the past year even when they didn’t want to hear about it.

But more than anything, he knows they can tell from the lost look he hasn’t quite gotten a handle on trying to hide just yet.

Shunpei’s about to leave the table when his dad clears his throat to get his attention, the two of them finished but staring at him in concern. He aborts his motion, sitting up straighter when they realize they have his attention, a tense silence filling the air.

His mom is the one to break it.

“Honey, we know it’s been a rough few days, but we just, um, well.”

“Are you okay son?” His father cleanly cuts in, a hand covering his mother’s own which she smiles gratefully for. It’s a gesture he’s seen a thousand times before, but it cuts into Shunpei when he hasn’t seen Raichi all week.

He smiles a charming smile, the smile he’s used to get out of trouble, to reassure others, it comes so easy, and he almost means it. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little down, but it was just a game, right?”

They both frown at his words, and Shunpei isn’t left wondering for long what he said wrong when his mom responds, “But you worked so hard! It’s okay to be upset Shunpei, even if others see it as just a game.”

“I don’t think I worked that hard, I didn’t put much effort in the beginning.”

“But you did eventually, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah, but𑁋”

“That’s all that matters then.” His father gives him a stern look at his words, his other hand coming to cover Shunpei’s own. He feels his hand being flipped, his dad holding up his calloused right hand gently. “This is proof you gave it effort. Maybe it took you longer than others, but you eventually decided to give it everything you had, didn’t you?”

His mom chimes in, a supportive smile on her face. “And all those late nights practicing, you would come home tired but bright eyed, like you couldn’t wait to do it all again the next day. You can’t tell us it’s just a game when it makes you so happy.”

Shunpei can feel heat creep up his face as tears gather at the corners of his eyes. He tries to will them away before his parents notice, but by their softening faces he knows it’s in vain. His mom comes around to hug him, the difference in height while he sits reminds him of when he was younger, his mom holding him just like this after she would bandage his scrapes and bruises. It makes him want to cry more, even though he still doesn’t know what he’d be crying over.

Is he still upset they lost? Not really.

Is he upset that he had to retire from the team? Maybe a little.

Is he upset because this is the last time he’ll probably play baseball? …

He doesn’t really know anymore why he looks at the baseball fields and his heart starts to hurt, or why he looks at his glove and has an itch to do something, or why he can’t bring himself to search out Raichi even when he knows how to find him.

He doesn’t know why closing this chapter of his life is so hard when it’s what he was prepared to do since the very first day it started.

When his dad catches his eye, he gets a tired smile, but it’s filled with plenty of warmth, enough to make Shunpei’s tears fall. Gentle thin fingers wipe them away, others smooth his hair down, and he feels even younger as his mom soothes him.

“It’s okay to hold onto something Shunpei, and it’s more than okay if that something is baseball. All your mother and I want is for you to be happy.”

“I don’t…”

He feels lips on his head before he’s let go, his mom standing away enough to peer down at his face. “It’s also okay not to know what you want right this second. We just wanted you to know you don’t have to walk away from something, especially when it means so much to you.”

Shunpei’s silent after that, but his parents can see it’s more from contemplation than ignoring what they’re saying. They leave him alone after that, giving him a few more hugs and pats before retiring for the night. He’s left at the table staring at the grain, a million thoughts swirling in his head, when one sticks out to him.

He checks his phone to see the date, and realizes the semi finals are in a few days. Holding his phone tightly, the small banana charm tinkling against the plastic, he decides the only way he’ll find the answers he wants is if he finally tries to search for them.

“Still out here practicing Raichi?”

“Naada-senpai!”

“How many swings do you normally do anyway?”

“A thousand a day!”

“A th-thousand!? No wonder you’re such a scary batter if you do that many swings. You’re amazing Riachi!”

“R-really, you mean that?”

“Of course I do, Raichi. You’re probably the most amazing person I’ve ever met honestly.”

“Eh!? B-but, I-I’m not. I’m just good for baseball.”

“Raichi, baseball is a big part of you, but it’s not all there is to you, at least not to me. Don’t let anyone tell you differently okay?”

“O-okay, senpai. And, um.”

“Hm?”

“Y-you’re the most amazing person I-I’ve met Naada-senpai.”

He knows he’s staring, but Shunpei’s shocked to find Raichi at his doorstep the next day, face red and out of breath as if he ran all the way to his house, which might be the case. He ushers the younger boy into his house, steering him to the kitchen to get him some water, which he downs immediately before nerves start creeping in and he fiddles with the glass in his hands. Shunpei would usually start the conversation, knowing how shy Raichi is even in spaces he feels semi comfortable with, but he just can’t find the words.

Today seems to be filled with more surprises though when Raichi starts the conversation instead.

“Sh-shun-senpai, I, um.” He fidgets more with the cup before he sets it down on the counter. Raichi clenches his fists on top of the counter, giving him a ruddy yet determined look that has Shunpei swaying a little forward as if pulled in by gravity. He’s always admitted Raichi was pretty magnetizing, especially to him. “I, I wanted t-to see you.”

Shunpei blinks, a smile melting his surprise away when he hears those words. “You’re always welcome to visit Raichi, haven’t I made that clear enough?”

He slides a little closer to Raichi, slowly to not startle him, and gently takes his hand in his own, lacing their fingers together in a loose hold. Raichi starts a little, still not fully used to all the small gestures Shunpei will do to show his affection. He’s used to roughness, to hard pats on the back, slung arms on shoulders, aggressive hair ruffling, all the roughhousing that comes from being on a team and growing up with just Raizou for most of his life.

Shunpei remembers the first time he held Raichi’s hand, the boy had cried, not knowing what to do with such a gentle touch.

It equal parts broke and warmed his heart when Raichi had squeezed his hand back that day, too tight and then feather light in awe, his face red and wet, but just as cute to Shunpei as any other day.

He gets the same feeling as then but not as severe when he feels Raichi hold his hand back more surely, his face just as red but with a small shy smile instead. Shunpei reaches out with his other hand, gently sweeping Raichi’s hair as he ruffles the fluffy locks, his smile stretching when he sees the other get even redder.

“Y-you have, I just, I don’t wanna, um.”

“I know Raichi, but you could never be a bother, I promise. Plus I missed my cute boyfriend, so this was the best surprise.” He gives a wink that has Raichi almost combusting, but he has a pleased look in his eyes, their laced hands getting a brief squeeze.

“’m not that cute.”

“Oh I beg to differ, you’re the cutest.”

He gets a huff for his words, but that tiny small is still there and it really does make Raichi the cutest person he’s ever seen. Shunpei lifts their joined hands to place a quick kiss against the back of Raichi’s hand, the boy’s breath hitching at the action.

Shunpei loves Raichi’s hands, even though he knows Raichi has complicated feelings over them, so he always tries to care for them, especially when he calls him cute. They’re rough and calloused, strengthened over the years to help him play baseball, to be one of the best batters of his generation.

But they’re also proof of the divide he feels from his own classmates and reflect his lack of friends before he came to Yakushi.

Shunpei knows instead of playing with other kids his own age, he swung a bat under a bridge until calluses covered his hands, instead of socializing and making friends, he met two kids that joined his dad’s training, becoming brothers in arms through their shared love of a sport they were all too young to really choose on their own.

He once asked Raichi if he resented his dad for how Raizou trained him for baseball, and the stuttering silence he got as an answer was heavy with too many complicated feelings for that Tuesday afternoon.

When he’d gotten home that day, he looked at his parents that barely ask about his days and practices, and tried to weigh the pros and cons of having a parent that expects too much from you and those that expect nothing and he couldn’t see much difference between them.

So until Raichi can give him an answer, and even if he does or never can, Shunpei will keep pressing gentle kisses into those hands because they’re proof of his struggles, of his strong will. They brought Raichi to him, and he doesn’t want to ever let him go.

“Hey Raichi, what would you do if I stopped playing baseball?”

Raichi’s eyes widen, and tears start to gather at the edges, making Shunpei pull him a bit closer in panic. “W-what? If you s-stopped playing, is, is this b-because we lost?”

Shunpei shushes Raichi as he gathers him in his arms, holding him tight as he clutches at his shirt. “No Raichi, well, it is, but also it’s not really. I just have some decisions to make now that I’m retired from the team is all.”

“Because we lost.”

“Well𑁋”

“Would you be thinking of q-quitting baseball if we had won?”

“...I don’t know. I think I would still be thinking about it, but being retired made me think about it more, especially now that I have to plan for the future.” He pulls back a little to see Raichi’s face, but he’s stubbornly looking to the side to avoid his gaze. “You know I don’t blame you over what happened in the game right? It’s not your fault Raichi, things just happen sometimes.”

“B-but.” It comes out garbled before he looks up with his tears finally falling, and Shunpei’s heart clenches as he holds Raichi tighter in response. “But I d-didn’t catch it! And if I ha-had, we could have gone l-longer and turned it around!”

“Or maybe Ichidai would have put in a fresh pitcher we couldn’t hit off of, and it still would have been the same. There’s no point in thinking of what-ifs after everything’s done Raichi.”

“I ended your summer…”

“You didn’t end anything Raichi. Summer was going to end eventually, it just happened a little earlier for us is all.”

“I-it was your last sh-shot at Koshien though.”

And wasn’t that the big elephant in the room that Shunpei never wanted it to be.

Shunpei was never one of those kids that played baseball and thought they could go to Koshien, never dreamed of standing on that national stage, but maybe that’s because no one ever told him to dream big. He never even knew what it meant to have a dream that big until he was standing on that mound and representing Tokyo this past spring.

He plays baseball because it’s fun and a good way to kill time, not because he has grand dreams of playing at nationals, or college, or even in the pros. He sees baseball as it is, a game, a pastime, not for the ambitious dreams that seem to live in the eyes of Raichi and other people in their prefecture.

You can’t tell us it’s just a game when it makes you so happy.

Of course a game can make him happy, it’s fun to play and he’s made friends through it. But then why does it hurt to lose, to get so far and it amounts to nothing, to see their monster batter cry when he thinks he failed them?

When did it stop being just a game, and why doesn’t all the hurt put him off anymore?

Maybe between all the hurt and pain and injuries, all the late night training, the extra laps, the shouting for more, to run, play, work, everything, maybe that’s when Shunpei started believing in their crazy dream too. Maybe once you taste victory, once you reach the stars, once you know it’s possible, it stops being just a game and becomes something more.

Shunpei loves baseball.

But it’s also so much more than that.

He loves the feeling of camaraderie of his teammates, the burn in his lungs as he runs those dreadful extra laps and extra drills, the thrill of learning a new pitch to strike out batters, the elation of hitting a ball to the outfield and racking up runs.

He loves watching Raichi hit home runs, not for the runs they bring, but for the quick moment of unadulterated joy that shines in his eyes when he makes contact.

He loves lazy afternoons when everyone’s gone home and it’s just them left, Shunpei throwing pitches purely so Raichi can hit them out of the park, both grinning and laughing as they watch them soar away.

Shunpei loves baseball, because without even trying Raichi taught him how.

“It was never about Koshien Raichi.”

He doesn’t know how to describe all the emotions that swell within him, so Shunpei just holds Raichi tighter, hoping the little he has said is enough to communicate that Koshien was never his dream, that he only ever wanted to play longer with him.

He tells himself that he can explain it better later, when his heart doesn’t feel like it’s breaking every time he tells himself he has no regrets over his high school baseball career.

It doesn’t feel like a lie, but it doesn’t feel like the whole truth yet either.

“Ah, there you are Raichi! What are you doing on this side of the school alone?”

“A-ah, S-Sanada-senpai, um, it’s, I’m f-fine, just, um.”

“Hey, is there something wrong with your arm?”

“W-what? Um, no, it’s fine, y-you don’t have t𑁋”

“...Raichi. Who did this?”

“N-no one sen-senpai.”

“Raichi𑁋”

“I’m fine, really! So p-please don’t, don’t make a big deal o-out of it. Please, Sanada-senpai.”

“...As long as you promise me to come find me if this happens again, okay?”

“You don’t h-have t𑁋”

“Please Raichi, okay?”

“...O-okay.”

It’s too hot, is the first thought that pops into Shunpei’s head when he steps into the stadium, hand coming up to fan himself. Looking around he can see the game is well underway, but the score is still even at zero, something that surprises him with Seidou’s and Ichidai’s batting lineups.

As he keeps watching though, he quickly understands why.

It’s bittersweet to watch a game of the team that beat them just a while ago, but it’s also a little thrilling to see the pitcher’s duel between Sawamura and Amahisa. The two clearly aren’t holding back, if anything it looks like they’re egging the other on even more, pushing their pitching beyond their current limits.

Shunpei briefly wonders if that’s the soulmate bond between them before he scraps that thought. Knowing Sawamura as good as he does, Shunpei knows he would give this game everything he had regardless of who he pitched against, that he doesn’t do anything at any half measures.

He can’t help remembering meeting the younger pitcher, how he was nervous and almost meek in his approach, but loud and bold when Shunpei didn’t wave him off. How he felt like he was in the presence of the sun with how blinding that smile was, his enthusiasm so infectious he just had to say yes to exchanging their lines.

He remembers Sawamura being a bit nervous to meet Raichi, but the two getting along like a house on fire when he didn’t bat an eye at how shy the other can be off the field. It warmed his heart to see Raichi make another friend, and that Sawamura would constantly try to keep him in the conversation no matter the topic.

Sawamura is a true people person, but he also takes care to really get to know a person and match them if he can. He can be loud with Raichi when baseball is concerned, but Shunpei has also witnessed the two being quiet in a cafe together when they all went out for lunch. Sawamura is still always loud, but so is Raichi half the time, so watching them interact is actually pretty fun and entertaining for Shunpei.

But seeing Sawamura be this focused, this sharp with his pitching, it sends a chill up Shunpei’s spine to watch.

This kid barely had any control or breaking balls last year, had barely mastered his changeup in the fall against them, had clearly struggled in high school baseball, and yet here he is, striking out draft picks. What kind of monster do you have to be to improve so much, so quickly?

As quickly as that thought enters his brain, he throws it away, because he knows the answer to that, he’s witnessed the answer to that.

Shunpei recalls the day they were reviewing tapes in the clubhouse, watching Sawamura pitch, along with Furuya and Kawakami, but there was something about his that made him pause. Sawamura struggled with his pitching, and he looked exhausted even through the grainy video with dark eye bags and slumped shoulders, but his actual eyes still haunt Shunpei even now, months later.

They were a blazing gold, almost on fire as they seared into the batter in front of him, and the roar he heard after he struck him out was so powerful, even though they were only in the first few innings. It wasn’t for victory, or even for finishing the inning with no runs lost, it was a deep and personal one, for himself.

Shunpei has watched Sawamura Eijun struggle and now flourish because he loves baseball more than anything, and enough to give it everything he has, even when he has nothing left to give.

He wonders what that must feel like to love a sport that much, but then he remembers Raichi with his intense training regimen, with his pure joy to bat, with his struggles to improve his fielding to not be a weak link on the field, and he thinks he’s finally starting to understand.

“I didn’t really have a coach growing up, so I finally got actual instruction at Seidou. It was hard adjusting, but I was determined to catch up, you know! And I know I have more to learn but that’s kind of the fun part right? I don’t really think there’s a limit to what a person can do if they really try for something they really love.”

“You must really love baseball then.”

“Of course I do! I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t!”

Shunpei loves baseball, though the amount has shifted throughout the years, but it’s never been a question that he loves the sport.

But standing in this stadium, in the scorching heat, watching someone younger than him with a similar background strive and excel, he can’t help thinking maybe he didn’t love the sport enough if this is where he ended up.

Then he remembers loud cackles and the clang of home runs, teammates shouting and a coach that sobs in joy when they score even as he yells at them to do better. He remembers parents showing more interest as he did, trying to understand when his pastime became his obsession, but still trying. He remembers getting that new pitch perfected and watching batters miss, immense satisfaction filling him to the brim.

And that’s when it hits him.

It wasn’t a lie when he told himself and others he has no regrets for his high school baseball career or how it ended, but he isn’t satisfied.

Mainly he isn’t satisfied with himself.

He gave baseball everything he could at the moment, but the truth is he can probably get even better if he sticks with it for longer, if he decides to keep playing, if he dedicates his everything to it like those that inspire awe within him.

Shunpei has never considered playing baseball after he graduated, but the contentment he previously felt with that decision is now soured, the truth being he isn’t ready to say goodbye just yet.

He was ready to close the chapter of high school baseball, but not the book of baseball in its entirety.

Something wet slides down his cheek, and Shunpei almost thinks it might impossibly be raining on one of the hottest days of the summer, when he wipes it away to find himself crying. And oh, Shunpei leans more into the shadows to let himself have this cry, because he gets it now, he gets why his heart hurt when he thought of not playing anymore, he gets why his parents told him it’s okay to hold onto baseball, he gets why Raichi looked heartbroken that he might stop playing the game.

Because he doesn’t want to stop playing baseball, he doesn’t want to settle like he has his whole life, he wants more, he just has to want to fight for it.

So on the hottest day of the summer, after watching the team that beat his own lose to one of the brightest people he’s ever met in one of the closest games he’s ever witnessed, Shunpei chooses to love baseball more than he thought he could.

It’s not going to be easy, he’s going to struggle, he’s going to fail, hell he might never make it to where everyone else he knows is aiming, but he’s going to try, and see how far he can really go. He owes it to the people that have believed in him this far, but more than anything he knows he owes it to himself to finally want something bigger than him and fight for it.

“Hey Raichi, wanna go grab some ramen? I already checked with Coach and he said it’s fine.”

“R-really, he said it was fine!?”

“Yeah, something about trusting me with you. Anyway, wanna go after you finish your swings? It’s fine if you don’t though.”

“N-no! I-I mean, yes, I’d love to go! Wait, I don’t have any money though…”

“Don’t worry, it’s my treat Raichi.”

“What, I-I couldn’t𑁋”

“I insist! Can’t make my cute kouhai pay when he’s been working so hard, now can I?”

“C-cute!? I’m not, I don’t think, um.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty cute. Now hurry up so we can get some food!”

“O-okay Naada-senpai!”

A few days later finds Shunpei outside the coach’s office, hand hesitating to knock on the door. He doesn’t know how long he stands there before it opens, showing a surprised Raizou, who schools his expression soon after.

“Well, I admit I didn’t expect to see you so soon with how much you’ve been avoiding the field, but come in. Unless you’re going to keep running?”

Shunpei lowers his hand and clears his throat, standing a little straighter when he meets Raizou’s eyes. “Um, no, I. I’m ready now.”

“Good.”

The two reenter the office, and Raizou gets comfortable behind his desk, grabbing a file under a pile and dropping it against the middle, facing Shunpei, who sits in the plastic chair across from him. He peers at the file, seeing his name scrawled across the top, dragging it a little closer at the coach’s nod. Inside he sees plenty of college brochures, and even a few team logos hidden farther behind them.

“Those are all the offers you’ve gotten since your appearance at spring nationals, from oldest to newest, and yes, you’ve even gotten a few after we lost to Ichidai. Despite the result, plenty of people were impressed with your performance, both as a pitcher and a batter.”

“...I didn’t think there would be this many.”

Raizou huffs, adjusting in his seat to glower at Shunpei, but not unkindly. “You’re a damn good ball player Sanada, of course people took notice, and it’s not like you’ve never been to Koshien, we made it to the quarterfinals.”

“Well, yeah, but we didn’t make it this time, and there’s plenty of better players here in West Tokyo alone. I’m just, shocked, I guess.”

“You think all those pro players that make it have all been to Koshien? A good portion have but with the way the system works, it’s a lot less than you would think. Yeah it has the best exposure, and the kids that get that limelight have a better shot of getting pro offers, but there are still plenty of kids that play good baseball and never see that stadium and still get their shots. It’s all a matter of how skilled you are, and how much you want it.” Raizou shifts again, leaning back against his chair, his eyes narrowed at Shunpei, a calculating gaze pinning him to his seat. “The real question is how much do you want it Sanada.”

Shunpei shifts himself, placing the folder back on the table to meet that look more directly. He doesn’t know how he looks, but from the slight widening of his eyes and then the intrigued look, Raizou must see something good. “It took me a while to come up with the answer, but I want to see how far I can go. I thought I was okay with how everything ended, with probably not playing after high school, but I don’t think I can walk away that easily anymore.”

“And what changed your mind? You seemed adamant about leaving everything behind after we lost. How do I know you won’t change your mind again?”

“Because I love baseball.” Raizou’s brows furrow, but Shunpei continues, letting all that he’s rediscovered find their words. “I’m not a genius player, and I grew up just coasting through everything because people didn’t expect a lot from me. I didn’t have any ambitions, didn’t really know how to have them, but then a grizzled old man became our coach, and even if it was for selfish reasons, he taught me how to believe in dreams. More than that, he taught me how to fight for them.”

Raizou looks slightly stunned in his seat, so Shunpei keeps going, still having more to say.

“But habits are hard to break, so I thought I could just give it my all and just be done with it, that it would be enough. And then we lost, and it ended, and I couldn’t walk away as easily as I thought because I didn’t really want to. I walked in a lot of circles, talked to a lot of people, and did a lot of thinking, and after everything I was still pretty confused about what I wanted. So, I went to see a baseball game, and there I remembered what it meant to fight for a dream, for my dream.” Shunpei looks down briefly, his eyes blazing when he meets Raizou’s again. “I don’t know if I’ll succeed, hell everything is kind of stacked against me honestly, but if there’s one thing I’ve come to understand, it’s that nothing can ever happen if you don’t even try, right?”

He’s met with silence, but Shunpei doesn’t look away, staring his coach down to show the sincerity of his words, that it may have taken a while, but he finally has his answer and it isn’t changing. Eventually he’s given a sharp grin that accompanies a loud bark of laughter.

“Well damn kid, it sounds like you went through it huh? But as long as you do what you want and don’t come to regret it, I think you’ll be just fine. Now how about we look through these offers.”

The mood is much lighter as they sift through them all, Shunpei immediately throwing out the few pro offers, explaining he wants to improve a bit more before he tries going pro, to the amusement and knowing grin from Raizou. They manage to get it down to three colleges with great baseball teams that he can visit to check out the facilities, two of which have offered him full ride scholarships to play for them. It’s still a little overwhelming to have teams that want him playing for them, but he takes it much better now than if he had forced himself to do this earlier.

Raizou tells him he’ll phone the schools for him and let them know his interest to schedule the tours, and Shunpei feels relieved at the support. He doesn’t doubt he could’ve done it all himself, but having that extra help is pretty nice. It’s as they’re both leaving the office, Shunpei to go home and Raizou to start practice, when he gets the question he’s been waiting to hear for a while.

“So what’s actually this dream of yours Sanada? I know it isn’t just to go pro, you’ve never been that simple in your goals, even if you have rediscovered your love for the sport.” He turns to him, giving him a critical eye that makes him feel small, even though he has a good inch on Raizou. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you avoiding certain names when you spoke.”

Shunpei swallows but maintains eye contact, refusing to back down, knowing this moment will define part of his future. “Does it really need saying then? I’ve never been shy about how I feel about him.”

“Indulge a ‘grizzled old man’ then. He is my son.”

“Raichi…” Shunpei trails off, a soft smile forming before he continues. “Raichi’s the reason I even wanted to make it this far. I don’t know what he saw that day when I first pitched to him, but he’s always seen someone amazing when he looks at me. At first I thought it was cute how he looked up to his upperclassmen, but then I wanted to actually deserve those starry looks, to be someone worth admiring, and for a person no one expected anything from, it was a pretty wild concept. But he makes me want to be better, to make him proud, to make him smile.”

“So you’re doing this for my crazy son then?”

“Well, not entirely. I want more than anything to make Raichi proud of the player I am, but through meeting him, and you, I’ve come to realize I can and should want more for my life. I also want to do this because it’s what I want, not what anyone expects from me. I want to look in the mirror one day and be happy with the person I see, and I couldn’t have started that without meeting you two. So,” Shunpei steps back a bit to give a low bow to Raizou, who sputters at the gesture. “Thank you sir, for everything you’ve done, for the team, and for me.”

“Okay, okay, I get it, stop bowing kid!” Raizou’s more composed when Shunepi ends his bow, but he can tell the coach is still a little flustered. “Geez, kids nowadays being too sincere, it’s too weird.”

“Well, you changed my life, I don’t think I would have made it this far if you didn’t push me as much as you did.”

“I may have pushed you, but you’re the one that worked hard Sanada.”

“But you were the first person to do that. I, I had it pretty easy, but with no expectations, you start to think there isn’t much you can do sometimes. So to hear someone tell me I can do better, it changed a lot. And…”

“And…?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just thank you again for everything, I hope I can keep meeting your expectations.”

“Kid, you’ve long surpassed them. Maybe you should try exceeding your own from now on.”

“Heh, maybe I will.”

Shunpei is heading out when Raizou calls out to him again, turning to look over his shoulder at the older man. He has a searching look that turns slightly fond in exasperation.

“You know I still trust you with him right?”

“Huh?”

“I know I don’t say it enough, because you were my player and I tried not to show favorites, but I’ll always trust you with Raichi. You make him happy, and that’s good enough for me. I… I didn’t always do right by him, hell some days I still mess up, but I’m glad I never got in the way of that. I was concerned in the beginning, I think any parent would be, but you’re good for him, so please keep taking care of my son.”

He gets a small bow from Raizou, and while it shocks Shunpei, he knows he has to add his own few cents to this. “As long as you keep trying to be better too.”

There’s a pause as Raizou straightens up, a complicated expression on his face that turns tired soon after. “I know I’m not the best dad𑁋”

“But you’re still his dad, his only family, so keep trying.”

“...Did he ever say anything to you…?”

He thinks of stuttering denials, of tense silences, of longing looks at families that pass by, of happy grins at praise, of a boy sitting next to his father to eat even though there are plenty of spaces available all around the table, of a hesitant hand grabbing a sleeve when they lost and the equally hesitant hand hauling him close for comfort.

He thinks of their first date and how Raizou tried to be intimidating at the door when Shunpei came to pick up Raichi, only to fuss over the sweater his son was wearing so he would look his best. He remembers how red Raichi was the most, because he’s always memorizing every face the boy makes, but he also remembers the pained smile of a man seeing his child grow before his very eyes.

He thinks of words said and unsaid, actions that are simple and double layered with meaning, relationships that are complicated and messy, but still worth trying to fix.

Shunpei thinks of family, and all the forms it can take to still mean the same word.

“No, but you’re both still here, and sometimes that’s enough.” He starts to walk away again, but he calls back without looking back at Raizou. “You could stand to tell him sometimes though!”

“Heh, cheeky brat!”

Shunpei laughs loudly, Raizou chuckles following him out when he gets outside. The sun blinds him for a second, squinting against the bright rays, the day sunny yet breezy, a perfect day to play baseball.

He looks in the direction of the field, already hearing a few voices getting ready for practice, and Shunpei smiles.

“Naada-senpai!”

“Hey Raichi! Did you finish your swings already?”

“N-not yet, but, um, I wanted t-to ask you something.”

“Sure, go for it.”

“Um, why do you call me c-cute all the time?”

“Because… you do a lot of cute things?”

“B-but you do it even when I d-don’t do cute things, or when I d-do baseball things, o-or when I do nothing!”

“Well yeah, you’re just very cute in general Raichi.”

“W-what, but, I’m, I’m not𑁋”

“Raichi.”

“Ye-yes?”

“Does it make you uncomfortable when I call you cute? I’ll stop if it does.”

“N-No! It, it doesn’t! I just, I wanna, I wanna know why, b-because, well.”

“Because?”

“...Don’t people only c-call people they l-like cute?”

“What makes you think I don’t like you Raichi?”

“Not, not like friends, like, like𑁋”

“I know what you mean Raichi. My answer is still the same though.”

“W-what?”

“I really like you Raichi, that’s why I call you cute all the time.”

“O-oh. But, I-I’m just me?”

“Heh, I know, that’s why I like you. I wouldn’t ever want you to be anyone else Raichi.”

Crashing the new team’s practice turns out to be one of the best ideas Shunpei’s had all week, especially when Raizou squawks when he sees him warming up with everyone else. He doesn’t do everything with the team, but helping them out with batting practice is great, especially when it lets him practice his pitching.

He didn’t realize how much he missed just pitching until he held a ball and almost teared up feeling the stitching under his fingertips.

He manages to strike out quite a few people, even Mishima, but some get solid hits, like Akiba, and Shunpei can’t help the swell of pride in his chest seeing how far some of them have come since their first year.

Shunpei gives Tomobe and the other pitchers a few tips, watching them in the bullpen, and from the genuine smile he sees the younger boy wearing, he can tell it was the right call to come see how the team is shaping up. They’re all a little rough around the edges still, but he can see the shadows of the old team slowly melting away. Come fall, they’ll be just as strong or maybe even stronger, prepared to show all of West Tokyo why they should never count them out.

“You look more determined than usual.”

Shunpei startles, looking up to see Akiba standing over him, a tired yet satisfied look on his face while he smiles down at him. He watches the younger boy plop down next to him, legs stretched out as he leans back on his arms, Akiba’s eyes never leaving the remnants of the team still out practicing their swings.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Nah, it’s much better than the lost look you’ve had whenever I spotted you on the grounds.”

“You saw me around?”

Akiba gives him a chiding look, and Shunpei can easily see the captain he’s shaping up to be, before he looks back out on the field. “Of course I did, you didn’t exactly hide that well if that’s what you were trying to do. It’s fine though, I figured you just needed the space to figure your own stuff out.”

A loud shout draws his attention to the field where Mishima is roaring at every ball he hits to the fence, a pleased grin lighting his face, a few of the first years watching in awe. Shunpei can admit he’s impressed with how far his underclassman has come, the sight solidifying that the team is in good hands now, that out of everything, he doesn’t need to worry about them.

They’ll be just fine.

“So did you, senpai? Figure it out.”

Shunpei smiles, his lips curling upward slowly but genuinely. “Took me a bit, but yeah, I did.”

“Mind sharing or…?”

“I’m going to play some catch up in college before I try for the pros. Still got plenty to learn and improve before I attempt to take on that level.”

“Glad to hear that Sanada-senpai. Have you told Raichi yet?”

“Not yet, I, um.” Shunepi can feel his cheeks warm when Akiba squints at his stuttering. “I want to make it special? Like it’s not a big deal, but it kind of is? At least, I think it is for us.”

Akiba hums, a pleased smile on his face at Shunpei’s words. He fiddles with the grass by his legs as he responds. “I think you’re right. Baseball is Raichi’s life, messy parts and all, but it brought him you, senpai.”

“It brought him to me too. Meeting him really changed my life, more than he could ever know.”

“I think he does, but it can’t hurt to tell him.”

“Ha, he’d be so embarrassed! But he’d be happy to hear it too.”

“That’s because you make him happy, Sanada-senpai.” He can’t help his flustered stuttering at Akiba’s earnest look, the other boy continuing when he doesn’t say anything back. “I know I’ve said it before, but thank you senpai. Thank you for taking care of Raichi.”

“You, you don’t have to thank me for that Akiba. I didn’t do anything special or really worth any praise.”

“No, you only accepted Raichi’s heart, treated him and his shyness well, and looked at him like he’s the actual sun. Nothing special about that.”

Shunpei sputters at that. “T-that, well, that’s only right, it’s what he deserves!”

“But not everyone thinks that, do they senpai.”

And oh, does that hurt him, to know how true that statement is, that there are people that have hurt Raichi just because they could. That people have met Raichi at his sweetest and decided to try and break him, as if being shy is a crime.

He recalls bruised arms and legs, a light one under his eye once, but silence when asked, Raichi never wanting to rock the boat. Shunpei never understood why he stayed silent when he was clearly the victim, but then he’d see the fraying edges of Raizou’s suits and the high end phones those bullies owned, and he’d curse how much money talked even in public schools.

So instead he’d started carrying bandages in his bag, switching to bandaids with baseballs on them when he saw how much Raichi liked the design, he started carrying some of Raichi’s favorite snacks as a pick me up in case anyone said anything to him in class, he started walking him to and from class on some days, eventually every day when they began dating.

Shunpei couldn’t make the bullies go away, but he could make every other moment warmer to combat them in the way that matters.

“No, they don’t.”

A hand grips his shoulder gently before it’s gone, Akiba leaving him with his thoughts shortly after.

The warmth stays with him for a while after.

“Oh Akiba! Coach was looking for you, something about the next game.”

“Thank you senpai, I’ll head over in a minute, but um, can I talk to you first?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Well I’m just going to be blunt, but what are you doing with Raichi?”

“Raichi? What do you mean?”

“All the flirting. Are you just teasing him? Because I don’t care if you’re older than me, I won’t let you mess with my friend.”

“Wait, hold on, I’m not messing with him! I mean I do tease him, but that’s because he’s cute when he blushes! I really do like him, Akiba, I mean it.”

“...look, I’m sorry, it’s just. Not a lot of people are nice to him, so I was worried.”

“Heh, it’s fine Akiba, Raichi’s lucky to have you for a friend.”

“Well, it’s not just that. We’re… also soulmates.”

“Oh, um, should I back off then or…”

“No! God no, it’s platonic, we’re like brothers. But I know some people are put off by that, or just, I don’t know, looking for a fun time, but Raichi’s not like that.”

“Is this your way of telling me if I hurt him you’ll hurt me?”

“Yeah, I guess it is.”

“I’m a little hurt you think I would just play around with Raichi, but I can see where you’re coming from. But Akiba, I care about Raichi a lot, and I don’t know what will happen, but I would never hurt him on purpose. And I know it’s a lot to ask, but you can trust me to always try to make him happy. I only ever want to make him smile.”

“...okay, I’ll trust you, senpai. Just, take care of him okay? He’s a lot more fragile than he looks.”

“I know, and I’ll do my best. Thank you Akiba.”

“Just know if you make him cry, I’ll break your kneecaps with my bat, and Mishima will help.”

“Heh, noted.”

Shunpei had initially planned to hang out with Raichi, the younger boy free from his isolated training for once, but a rogue text from Amahisa derails that. He’s tempted to ignore the text, but there’s something in him that wants to hear the other pitcher out, that wants closure after how their last match ended.

So instead of having a nice date with his boyfriend, Shunpei finds himself across from Amahisa listening to him blabber on.

Except it’s not just mindless blabber, it’s an actual apology and a plea for friendship, way more than he expected to ever receive from Amahisa, and the biggest shocker is how much he actually wants it.

Shunpei never thought he would get any recognition from his competitors. He’d accepted that despite how Yakushi has risen in the ranks of powerhouse schools, he wouldn’t rise much in people’s opinions. And he’d been okay with that, he doesn’t play baseball for the glory, he never has.

But he thinks back to that national stage he’s played on and how those bright lights can feel as close to the stars as you can get on earth.

So he takes that hand, because Amahisa isn’t his friend and kind of a shitty rival, but that doesn’t have to be the case anymore. They’re both young and stupid, and Amahisa can sometimes be a jerk, but Shunpei didn’t exactly try to bridge that gap before either, so maybe now that they’re both leaving childhood behind they can finally grow into more.

A sunny smile with earnest intent and belief on a cold winter day has already proven that friendship can thrive in rivalry, and if fate decided Amahisa was attached to the other side of Sawamura’s string, then maybe he wasn’t all that bad after all.

Shunpei still doesn’t believe in fate, still has his own eternal fight with it that he may never even win, but he does believe in people.

And so far, despite everything, Shunpei still finds that worth trying for.

“Hey Raichi.”

“Y-yeah, Naada-senpai?”

“Wanna do something fun together on our next day off?”

“Um, like a, a date?”

“Exactly like a date, if that’s okay with you Raichi. You can say no if you want.”

“Wh-what if I wanted to s-say yes?”

“Then I’d be really happy. Would you be happy?”

“Y-yeah, I would.”

“Then it’s a date!”

“Y-you’re really sure you wanna go on one w-with me?”

“Yeah Raichi, I really am.”

Knowing and planning on doing something is very different than actually doing it. A week later finds Shunpei finally free enough to see Raichi long enough to properly go on a date and fill him in on his future plans. It would have been easier to tell him the few times they had a minute alone, but something told Shunpei he needed to do this right and make it special.

And an insane amount of groveling to get Raizou to let him have the field after practice, which includes keeping the team away instead of letting them do extra practice like normal. He can hear all the yelling complaints from Mishima as he leaves, griping about how he had to get better to lead the clearly still struggling team, before he finally gets far enough that it becomes buzzing easier to block out.

Shunpei would just make it up to the guy later, or maybe if things went well with Raichi, he’d be forgiven anyway. Weird rivalry and all, Mishima cares about Raichi a lot, and wouldn’t have stayed friends with him for so many years if he didn’t.

And despite the very graphic threats to Shunpei when they initially started dating, Mishima was very supportive of the two, it was actually really sweet.

Shaking his head to focus, Shunpei finishes the last touches of his surprise for Raichi just before he hears the younger boy enter the field with a loud clatter against the fence.

“Shun-senpai!”

The boy leaps over the fence, and Shunpei has to stop himself from swooning a bit at how easy it is for Raichi to do so. He might be smaller than most players, but Raichi made up for it in plenty of other ways, his style of play more dynamic than normal.

He’s dressed a little more casually than normal, a simple t-shirt and shorts, an adorably confused look as he approaches Shunpei on the field devoid of other players that should be there loudly training. Shunpei takes a deep breath before he holds up a baseball, a smile on his lips he knows is charming, the answering red on Raichi’s cheeks proof enough.

“Hey Raichi, wanna hit a few out of the park?”

He gets an enthusiastic nod and a charging hug before Raichi grabs a bat from the dugout near them, skipping to home plate in his excitement. Shunpei chuckles, his steps slower as he makes his way to the mound, a pause in his steps before he takes the final ones to get ready to pitch.

Raichi is bright eyed and ready when Shunpei looks at him, and he’s brought back to the first day they met, when his world was changed by a tiny freshman hitting one out of the park from a halfhearted pitch.

“Ready Raichi?”

“Ready!”

Winding up, Shunpei remembers the first time he talked to Raichi, the blushing and stammering that he found adorable, the squeaks he found endearing, the precious few times their eyes made contact mesmerizing. Raichi captured his attention from the moment they met, the paradoxical nature of the other boy intriguing Shunpei until he had no choice but to get closer, to know more, to discover the kind of person that Raichi is.

The kind of person that shouts at the top of his lungs when he runs his laps but won’t speak up in class to avoid attention, that will swing his bat a thousand times a day without losing count but struggles with math until you use food related analogies to explain them, that can face some of the best pitchers in their district but won’t face his bullies to protect his father’s job. A boy so strong and vibrant, but can be withered and quiet when he’s alone, confidence and insecurity both old friends he knows well.

A boy Shunpei wants to love as long as Raichi lets him.

The pitch gets hit like Shunpei knew it would be, being a fastball straight down the middle. Raichi tilts his head watching it soar, a small furrow between his brows, his smile not as wide as before, but still present.

It’s the same pitch Shunpei threw to him when they first met.

Though he likes to think his control is a lot better than before.

The next windup Shunpei thinks of when he got the ace number in his second year, when he spent hours and hours trying to figure out what pitches actually work for him and how to improve his shit stamina. He’s got a few more pitches and his stamina will get there once he puts more effort, but Shunpei’s finally at a point where he can admit he’s grown from that kid who didn’t care about anything.

He’s more than a blank slate, more than ordinary. He may not be extraordinary like Sawamura or Amahisa, or even Narumiya, but he’s worked hard to get where he is, and he isn’t done yet.

The next pitch is a breaking ball, the same one he was able to strike out Raichi with a few months after they first met.

Raichi hits it this time, long used to the pitch now, his smile wider again, glee lighting up his eyes at the more difficult pitch. Shunpei takes his time admiring his boyfriend before he calls out, starting his windup again.

Pitch after pitch, Shunpei goes through his whole repertoire, once, twice, Raichi hitting them all out of the park each time. He starts to wind down, about to end their session, when he pauses.

“Hey Raichi, one last pitch okay?”

“Kahahaha! Throw it Shun-senpai!”

It’s a pitch he’s barely tried, his control still wonky when he attempts it, but maybe here he can make it work. Maybe when the one person he doesn’t want to disappoint is watching, Shunpei can reach even higher.

It’s barely in the strike zone, but Raichi swings and misses and from the look on his face, he wasn’t expecting anything like it from Shunpei.

“Woah! What was that pitch!?”

“That, is the curveball I’m going to start working on.”

“That’s amazing Shun-senpai, throw it again! Please!”

Shunpei gives a sharp smile as he approaches the other boy at home plate. He ruffles his hair when he’s close enough, Raichi automatically leaning into the touch with a sweet smile, his bat hanging loosely from his hands. Slowly he slides his hand down until Shunpei is cupping Raichi’s cheek, his thumb gently running over the boy’s scar.

“Not today Raichi, but one day it’ll be ready and you can try again then.”

“One day? I-I thought you were…”

“I should have told you sooner, but I’m going to play college ball to get better, so just wait a little longer okay?”

“Wait, you’re gonna keep playing? R-really!? And what do you mean wait a little longer?”

“Heh, yeah I’m going to keep playing baseball. I’m sorry if I worried you, I just needed to think over some things. And I want you to wait until I get better, until I can stand on the same stage as you, Raichi.”

“The same stage…?”

Shunpei wriggles his glove off his left hand before it joins the right in cradling Raichi’s face as he steps closer to the younger boy. Raichi’s eyes are confused yet determined even as he flushes red from their proximity, and Shunpei can’t help the brief peck he gives the other’s forehead at the cute display and to gather his courage.

“You’re going to do amazing things Raichi,” Shunpei whispers against his skin, tufts of hair tickling his cheeks. “And it took me too long to realize I want to do amazing things too. Because you inspire me, every day, to do more than I thought I was capable of, to find a dream and chase it.”

Pulling back, Shunpei sees a wondrous look on Raichi’s face as he feels smaller hands grip his shirt tightly as if they never want to let go.

As if Shunpei is worth never letting go.

“I got a full ride to a school about an hour away. It’s got a great team, and I’ll be close enough to visit when I can.” Shunpei leans his face closer to Raichi’s, his heart beating faster as he puts his plans to voice to the one person he wants to reach most. “I want to join you in the pros one day Raichi. I have a little bit longer to go, but I want you to know that when you graduate and pick your team, I’ll be right behind you, racing to catch up.”

Raichi looks wide eyed, tears gathered at the edges, but there’s a small smile on his face. He dives into Shunpei’s arms, hands clawing at his shirt as Raichi buries his face into the crook of his neck. Shunpei can feel tears drip onto his skin, making him hold Raichi closer as he nuzzles the top of the other’s head.

“Y-you, you don’t ne-need to catch up to me s-senpai. As long as you keep p-playing baseball, I’ll be happy. Because y-you always look so h-happy when you do.”

Shunpei hums, rubbing Raichi’s back to calm him. “That’s only because I was playing with you.”

Raichi pulls his head back, eyes blinking in astonishment, his cheeks somehow even redder than before. He’s smiling though, something small and gentle and full of joy, as if the thought of Shunpei enjoying playing with him could be so shocking yet welcome.

And maybe it is, maybe Shunpei wasn’t the only one fundamentally changed by their meeting. Maybe Raichi is just as thankful to have met a lazy pitcher as Shunpei is to have met a monster batter.

Maybe it was fate, or a complete coincidence, or just plain old luck, or nothing special at all.

But what they both made from it is pretty damn special to Shunpei, baseball and all the troubles it brought along with it.

“You helped me love baseball, Raichi, so I want to keep playing with you for as long as I can. So will you wait for me? I promise I won’t make you wait too long.”

Raichi sniffles a bit before a wide smile stretches over his face, and Shunpei doesn’t need to hear the words to know the answer. He doesn’t stop him from yelling it out loud for anyone to hear, because the noise is welcome, Shunpei lifting his boyfriend off his feet with joy, the field being filled with their laughter.

When he sets Raichi on the ground, Shunpei gets bombarded with questions about the college he’ll attend, which he answers eagerly, finally able to tell his boyfriend about the next stage in his life. They end up laying in the field watching the afternoon bleed into evening as they chat away about all the details until it’s quiet enough that Shunpei thinks they should head out when Raichi speaks up again in a whisper.

“Hey Shun-senpai?”

“Yeah Raichi?”

“I-I, I’m gonna do my best too, s-so our dream comes true.”

“Our dream?”

Raichi’s face flames, but he’s looking at Shunpei, eyes blazing with a mixture of determination, longing, and giddiness. “I always wanna play with you too, so I’ll work really hard. B-because, because I l-love you a lot, Shun-senpai.”

He wants to smother Raichi’s face in kisses even if he’ll combust from all the affection, so he does, the younger boy squirming under all the attention. His heart is full and overflowing, beating so fast it might break free, but he doesn’t mind one bit. Shunpei has known for a while that his heart wasn’t his own anymore, having long since taken residence in Raichi’s calloused yet gentle hands.

Looking down at the boy, with his wide toothy grin and shining eyes, Shunpei believes his heart is exactly where it should be.

“I love you a lot too Raichi.”

“Hey Raichi, why do you like batting so much?”

“I like smacking everyone’s pitches!”

“Heh, even mine?”

“Especially yours, Naada-senpai!”

“Well I don’t think mine are anything special, but I’m flattered!”

“B-but they are special senpai! Because they’re yours!”

“Aww, are you calling me special Raichi?”

“W-well, o-of course you are! Y-you’re special t-to me!”

“Raichi…”

“W-we’re already d-dating, so you already kn-know that I, that I really l-like you. But it, it’s more than that, I, you. I just, I l-l-lo-, damnit.”

“I love you too Raichi.”

“S-senpai…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say it right now, I know what you were trying to say. I’ll just keep saying it enough for the both of us until you’re ready to say it yourself.”

“But I should be able t-to say it!”

“It’s okay Raichi. I think I’d wait forever for you.”

“That d-doesn’t seem fair to you though.”

“Then don’t keep me waiting too long okay~”

“I-I won’t!”

“Then that’s enough for me, Raichi.”

It’s a sunny day with a biting chill to it, summer finally bleeding into fall. Shunpei’s looking through his old stuff with his mom, when he hears a gasp behind him, making him turn to see her holding a small Tigers baseball jersey.

“Oh, I was wondering where this had disappeared to,” She breathes out, turning the small garment in her hands, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

“Wait, why are you crying mom?” Shunpei panics, dropping the books he’d been placing in a box to comfort his mother. She waves him away, sniffling and holding the tiny jersey tightly.

“I’m fine, it’s just.” She smiles at Shunpei, eyes shimmering and lips wobbling, joy and maybe even pride radiating from her gaze. “It’s just so surreal to think you were this small and would beg us to watch the games on tv while wearing this jersey, and now here you are, on your way to being on tv.”

“Aw mom, I’m not, I’m not going to be on tv for years, if I even make it that far𑁋”

“You will.” Her eyes pierce into Shunpei, silencing him immediately, his heart stuttering for a moment at the intensity. “You will make it. If anyone can do it, it’s you Shunpei.”

“I… I’ve run away a lot mom.”

“And you’ve come back each time haven’t you? Even if it took you longer than others to find your passion for the game and your grit, you still found it and you’re still fighting for it. So I know you’ll make it, and one day I’ll get to hang this jersey next to one with your name on it.”

And what does Shunpei say to those honest words, those words he wishes he had heard in his childhood and gets as he’s leaving it? What does he say to his mother who loves him, but waited so long to be encouraging of a future he truly wants to fight for? What is Shunpei supposed to say to such raw intense belief he’s never experienced before?

How does someone cope with so many people believing in them?

Some of his disbelief must show on his face, his mother giving a watery huff. She reaches out slowly, but grips his face firmly so Shunpei doesn’t look away from her resolved gaze.

Shunpei has never felt so seen and exposed in his entire life.

“Now you listen to me Shunpei, okay?” She breathes deeply, her tears falling when she exhales shakily. “I’m so sorry.”

“W-what?”

“I said I’m sorry, because it’s overdue. Your father and I love you, so much, but we weren’t there for you how you needed us to be. We never stopped you from doing things that made you happy, but we never encouraged them either. We weren’t active enough in your life, and I see now how much that actually hurt you.”

“Mom𑁋”

“Don’t defend us, it’s okay to be mad at us for that.”

“I… It’s been so many years, what does it even matter anymore?”

“It matters because you’re going to college to improve your baseball with the intent of going pro and when you told us, you said it so nonchalantly! As if you didn’t expect us to care about such a big decision, even after we told you it’s okay to keep playing baseball. It’s one of the most important decisions of your life and even though it’s your dream, you seemed resigned to telling us, like it was a chore. It shouldn’t be like that Shunpei, we should never have made you feel like anything you say doesn’t matter! And that’s on us sweetie, not you.”

“Mom…”

“I just, I’m sorry we made you feel that way Shunpei, and I don’t want that to continue now that you’re grown and leaving. I want you to have a reason to come back and tell us all about your training and your games and all your future pro offers. I want𑁋” Shunpei watches his mother crumple, her grip on him visibly straining before she bows her head, her body slightly trembling. “I want us to have a better relationship. I want to be in my son’s life, if it isn’t too late.”

There’s a lot of things Shunpei wishes could have happened when he was growing up.

He wishes he could have gotten more into baseball when he was younger so he wouldn’t have spent so long catching up to his teammates in high school. He wishes he could have developed this passion earlier so the revelation that he wanted to play pro ball didn’t drown him when he had it. He wishes he had stuck up for himself more as a kid when he got picked on for not having a soulmark, and wishes he had let himself give a damn instead of go numb to it.

He wishes his parents told him everything would be okay more than they actually did.

But watching his mother cry and beg for another chance, Shunpei doesn’t remember any of those old wishes, instead remembering a grizzled awkward smile with a promise to be a better father, bright golden eyes declaring improvement and success, a tentative hand offered in friendship over burgers and warm soda.

Shunpei remembers second chances and the many forms they come in and embraces them all, bringing his mother gently yet tightly into a hug.

“You don’t even need to ask mom.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Then it’s not too late. It wasn’t for me, so it isn’t for you. You’re my mom, I’m always gonna want you in my life, okay?”

“I’ll still be better, your father and I both will be, I promise. And Shunpei?”

“Yeah mom?”

“I’m so proud of you sweetie, of the future you’re chasing and of the man you’re becoming.”

Shunpei inhales sharply, burrowing his face in his mother’s neck more, his arms tightening. He can feel his eyes burning as his lips stretch into a wobbly grin. “Thanks mom. I think I’m starting to be proud of me too.”

Hours later, surrounded by the disarray in his room, scrolling through all his messages on his phone, Shunpei leans back against his bed, a small smile on his face.

He thinks of his mother’s tear stained smile, of his father’s rough hug after dinner, of the batting tips he’s typed out to Sawamura, of the memes he’s receiving from Amahisa, of the advice he wants to give to Akiba’s questions, of the gifs he’s sent Mishima for his bragging.

He thinks of the reassuring words he texted Tomobe, of the placading ones to Raizou over his deadlines, of the string of hearts he spammed Raichi with to try out the younger’s new phone.

Shunpei looks at his new tiny baseball charm, the matching bat one with Raichi, dangling next to the bright banana one as he thinks of everything he has that he thought he never would, and for once believes wholeheartedly that his dreams are possible.

One step at a time.