Chapter Text
It was still an honor to be selected for the All Star Game.
It was.
It was also true that the novelty of it had worn off over the years.
It was Miyuki’s sixth All Star Game and, if he was being completely honest with himself, it was no longer the prospect of playing, of starting, of winning that sent a nervous little thrill down his spine.
That feeling...well…
Miyuki climbed into the bus that would take the team to the stadium. He greeted the players he knew. Ducked his head to those he didn’t. Tried to ignore the wide eye stares from the new kids. Tried to ignore the fact that the new kids really were starting to look like kids to him.
And...
And Miyuki tried to remember a time when he could look at Takigawa Chris Yuu and not feel something.
Over the years, over the course of their long history, those feelings had layered and settled. Frustration and annoyance. Admiration and respect. Fear and awe. All building steadily one on top of the other. Building and building and building…
Until Miyuki didn’t know what to do with them. Until he didn’t know what to do with the pressure settling in his chest, in his gut, in his heart.
It was overwhelming sometimes, facing Takigawa Chris Yuu.
But Miyuki had always known that.
“Hey, senpai.”
Chris carefully marked his place in the book he was reading before he looked up. And Miyuki could see the moment that he recognized him. The moment that Chris’ expression shifted ever so slightly from polite interest to genuine friendliness. And he smiled and said,
“Miyuki. It’s been a while.”
And it was like a hole had been punched into his chest. Because Miyuki was so in love with Takigawa Chris Yuu that he could feel it like a physical wound.
“Chris-senpai.”
“I’m pretty sure that address doesn’t apply anymore.”
And Miyuki was pretty sure that it would always apply, but he knew better than to admit that.
“What are you reading?” asked Miyuki.
Chris held up his book. His book about astrophysics. Because...of course.
“You have a day job I don’t know about?” laughed Miyuki.
Chris glanced down. A shy smile tipped his lips upward ever so slightly as he thumbed the pages of his book.
“Just curiosity.”
“Well, that I did know about.”
Chris looked back up at him and opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by Hirano bellowing, “Takigawa! Shit. It’s good to see you! ”
And Chris laughed as he rose out of his seat in order to greet Hirano with a half handshake, half hug.
“Hasn’t been the same since you got traded,” continued Hirano as he slapped Chris enthusiastically on the back. “The team has me partnered up with some punk-ass kid who thinks he’s hot shit just because his High School won Koshien.”
Miyuki snorted. “I’m pretty sure I was that kid.”
Hirano laughed loudly at that before turning his attention back to Chris. “It’ll be nice to be part of a proper battery again.”
Chris ran a hand across the back of his neck. It was a painfully familiar gesture. One that he had had since High School. One that Miyuki recognized as a nervous habit.
“Ah, I’m not the starter. Miyuki is.” Chris turned in order to smile at Miyuki. The expression was too warm, too happy, especially since he added, “Story of my life, really.”
And Miyuki wanted to say something—except Hirano had already moved on with the conversation.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Hirano as he took the open seat next to Chris. “I’m not starting either. How can anyone compete with all of those freakily talented West Tokyo pitchers? Do you know they call your era of High School baseball the ‘Golden Era’? Not that I can disagree…”
Miyuki sat in the seat behind Hirano. Chris glanced at him with a question in his eyes and Miyuki waved off his concern. He pulled out his earbuds and pretended to listen to music. In reality, he just needed an excuse to try to block out the sound of Hirano’s voice.
The worst part about being in love with Chris was that it didn’t mean anything. Not when Miyuki was only one person out of so many who loved him.
People loved the idea of Miyuki. They loved him when he succeeded. They hated him when he failed. It was a superficial love.
When Chris earned love and loyalty it ran deeply.
Even when injured. Even when he was no longer on the team. Even though High School baseball was a cruel, unforgiving place.
Chris still had the team’s love and loyalty.
In other words, it was a love that transcended baseball.
In other words, it was a love that transcended anything that Miyuki could offer.
Miyuki knew that. He knew it. And yet…
Miyuki did a search for the book Chris had been reading on his phone. He found it easy enough. He bought it and had it shipped to his apartment in Nishinomiya even before the bus started moving.
---
Miyuki was leaning against the dugout railing. He had played his two innings and had no other obligations except to hang out and wait for the game to be over. The All Star game was casual like that.
For most people at least.
There was a close call at the plate. The runner slid home at the same time that Chris lunged to tag him out. And Miyuki would have sworn that Chris had beat the runner, but the umpire called him safe. And Chris jumped to his feet, shoving his mask up, as he said a few choice words to the umpire before settling back into the crouch.
The Central League managed to make it out of the inning without any more damage done, but Chris still stalked back to the dugout clearly unhappy.
Miyuki glanced over at him as he stripped out of his catcher’s gear, pausing only to look over at Miyuki and say,
“I blocked the plate.”
Miyuki laughed. “I know.”
---
Miyuki had known since his First Year at Seido that love could be cheaply won if you had a pretty face and exceptional talent.
For all the love that he was shown in interviews and articles and by fans, at the end of the day, Miyuki knew the truth.
He was pretty unlovable.
It was hard to love someone with a personality like his. Miyuki was a strange combination of manipulative and malleable. He became who the pitchers needed him to be. He became what the team needed him to be. Whatever the game needed him to become, that was who he was.
No matter who it annoyed or pissed off or hurt.
And most of the time that was fine. More than fine.
The problem was...this was one of those times when it wasn’t.
Chris wasn’t someone Miyuki could manipulate. Not for lack of trying. First, as a First Year trying to play the part of the dutiful kohai and later on when all of his efforts to return that spark of life to Chris’ eyes were mostly ignored. And much later on...when Chris stepped into the batter's box and Miyuki dropped into the crouch behind home plate.
There had always been something about Chris that made Miyuki stubborn. Something that made Miyuki want to straighten his spine and dig his heels in. Something that wanted to fight, wanted to test, wanted to push. Something that drove him to be better than his best.
And maybe, at those times, Miyuki was the most honest version of himself.
---
komatsukento
Hanshin Koshien Stadium
[Miyuki sits in the Tiger’s locker room. He’s still wearing his baseball pants, but his jersey is off and an ice pack is sitting on his shoulder. He has a look of concentration on his face as he reads a book about astrophysics.]
komatsukento Our resident genius. @miyukikazuya
---
“I wonder what they’re playing at,” muttered Miyuki’s Coach as he looked over the Giants starting lineup. “Mori’s not starting.”
Before Miyuki realized what he was doing he had already snatched the sheet of paper out of his Coach’s hand. His Coach sputtered in indignation and muttered about rudeness, but Miyuki was Miyuki Kazuya and at this point in his career he could get away with...well...pretty much anything.
And right now he didn’t care about what his Coach thought because in the last game in the last series that the Tigers and the Giants would be playing against each other this season, Takigawa Chris Yuu was starting.
“Holy shit,” breathed Miyuki.
---
Miyuki grinned as he stepped up to the plate. “Finally back where you belong.”
Even behind his catcher’s mask, Miyuki could see Chris smile as he looked out across the field of Tokyo Dome.
“It is nice to be home.”
---
Nothing could beat the sound of the crowd after hitting a walk-off to end the game. The way the home crowd would collectively, instinctively rise to their feet and with a thousand voices would scream and cheer.
But there was also a different kind of satisfaction after hitting the go ahead run in the top of the ninth against the opponent’s closer. Of hearing the crowd groan and then...the silence--as if the air had been sucked out of the stadium.
Miyuki slid into second and took a moment to savor the sweet sound of hope dying.
There had been two outs and two strikes and Chris had tried to catch him off guard with a change up to the outside corner. It had been a good call. Miyuki would have made the same one if their positions had been reversed.
And maybe that was why Miyuki was able to turn on the pitch and drive it down the left field line.
The Dome was so quiet that Miyuki could hear his teammates cheering from the dugout. Miyuki had put them ahead and if they could close out the bottom of the ninth--they would be heading to the playoffs.
And really Miyuki couldn’t have imagined a better scenario.
Ever since Middle School, there had always been a Takigawa Chris Yuu.
There had always been someone a step ahead of him. Miyuki had spent most of his life chasing after his back. Always behind. Always trying to catch up.
Miyuki grinned as looked at Chris behind home plate and took his lead.
Maybe...just maybe...
---
Miyuki walked into the Giant’s dugout. Chris sitting on the bench. Hair still wet from the shower. Casually dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans. A cooler with what looked like a six-pack of beer next to him.
“It’s a little weird being on this side,” joked Miyuki as he slid onto the bench.
Chris reached into a cooler and handed him a beer. “Congratulations on making the playoffs.”
“Thanks.”
Miyuki wasn’t sure how long they sat like that. Drinking side by side as they looked out across the empty stadium. It was like this between them sometimes. Back in High School, it had been sports drinks from the vending machine. Now it was beer in Tokyo Dome. A lot had changed over the years, but the quiet comfort, the quiet understanding, that had never changed.
“This was nice,” said Chris suddenly.
Miyuki paused in raising his beer to his lips. “That’s not exactly the response I was expecting, seeing as though you lost.”
“You’ve come a long way,” replied Chris before he glanced at Miyuki and grinned. “It only took you twenty years to beat me.”
Miyuki laughed. “I’m sure next year you’ll be back to kicking my ass.”
“Ah, about that...” said Chris as he set down his beer. “This is going to be my last season.”
Miyuki hadn’t allowed a passed ball all season, but he could feel the can of beer slip from his fingers. It clattered mostly empty onto the dugout floor.
Neither of them made any move to pick it up.
Annoyingly, Chris smiled back at him. “It’s not that surprising, is it?”
“You’re retiring?”
Chris nodded. “I’m retiring.”
Even stated so plainly Miyuki couldn’t wrap his head around the idea. He stood in order to pick up his beer can. He held it in his hands for a moment, feeling the smooth, cold surface.
“Why?”
“It’s time.”
“No, it’s not.”
Chris laughed and usually Miyuki would have savored the sound. Right now it made him want to punch his senpai in the face. Instead, Miyuki dropped the can back into the cooler.
“But...but what will you do?”
Chris was still looking way too amused for Miyuki’s liking. “Whatever I want, apparently.”
Miyuki understood that to an extent, but he still replied with brutal honesty, “Sounds awful.”
“I guess I’ll find out,” replied Chris before draining his beer.
Miyuki didn’t have a reply. He couldn’t reply...out of fear that what he really wanted to say might come tumbling out of his mouth.
But what will I do…?
---
takigawachrisyu
Tokyo Dome City
[The empty baseball field and the empty stands as seen from Home Plate.]
takigawachrisyu Thank you, Tokyo.
---
Everyone left Miyuki in the end.
And usually, that was fine. But with Chris…
Miyuki had known for years that, given half a chance, Chris would ruin him. It wouldn’t take much, a hint, a gesture, a word, and Miyuki would be shoved over the edge he’d been teetering on for years. He would fall so hard and so fast that even the idea of it took his breath away.
It turns out it didn’t matter that he had tried to guard his feelings.
Chris retiring…
The idea of stepping into the box and never seeing him again--
Was this what it was like to have a broken heart?
---
Miyuki knew that his teammates were watching him.
He wasn’t sure what they were waiting for. He wasn’t about to throw a fit or break down into tears. They didn’t need to know that Miyuki wasn’t getting any sleep tonight. Not with his mind already trying to figure out what he could have done differently.
The Hanshin Tigers had been knocked out of the playoffs in the second round.
Miyuki sighed as he pulled his jacket over his shoulders. Maybe one day he would get over it--but it sure as hell wasn’t happening anytime soon.
He didn’t mean to look at his phone. The last thing he wanted was to read messages full of sympathy and empty platitudes. Except Chris had sent the latest message. Somehow timing it within seven minutes of Miyuki getting dressed.
There’s always next year.
Miyuki actually laughed out loud---startling his teammates. He shook his head as he slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Liar,” he said under his breath before he turned towards the rest of the room. He forced himself to smile. “Well...this fucking sucks.”
And luckily everyone laughed.
“The result isn’t what any of us wanted, but it was a hard fought game and you shouldn’t have any regrets and--shit. I’ve never been good at this.”
Sakurai, their Ace, gave him a thumbs up and yelled, “You’re doing great!”
And Miyuki was more grateful for that than he would ever admit.
“Thanks…” Miyuki scrubbed the back of his neck. “I’m really proud of what we accomplished, not just tonight, but also this season. And…”
And Miyuki laughed again because fucking Chris.
“So, yeah, we’ll work hard and try again next season.”
---
Miyuki slowed from a run to a walk as he checked the time. His breathing was harsh but even puffs in the air. After an hour of running, he could barely feel the biting cold anymore.
In the off-season, he stuck to a routine out of habit. Though maybe ‘habit’ was too soft of a word. Perhaps ‘compulsion’ was better. Habit seemed to imply he could stop. And at this point, he wasn’t sure if he could.
Chris would join him sometimes in the mornings. He had been the one to put together the routine in the first place. Miyuki asked him if he was going to write it down for him on scrolls with a brush pen. Chris laughed, but Miyuki was only half joking.
Chris wouldn’t be joining him today. Maybe never again.
---
“So you knew?” asked Kuramochi over breakfast. “That Chris-senpai was going to retire.”
Miyuki absently picked at his own food. “He told me after that last game we played against each other.”
This had somehow also become part of the routine. Catching up with old teammates. Though Miyuki suspected it was mostly Kuramochi checking up on him.
“Did you cry when he told you?” Kuramochi smirked. “Sawamura totally cried.”
Miyuki rolled his eyes. “I didn’t cry.”
Kuramochi set down his chopsticks. “But you were caught off guard.”
“Wasn’t everyone?”
“I wasn’t.”
Miyuki looked up at that.
“He wasn’t starting anymore,” said Kuramochi with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. “He probably only stuck around as long as he did to make sure his replacement was okay.”
That made sense. Miyuki still hated to hear it.
“Is there a point to this?”
Kuramochi shook his head. “You have a blind spot when it comes to Chris-senpai. One that he took advantage of more times than I can remember when you two played against each other.”
“Seriously,” said Miyuki as his phone pinged with a notification. “What’s your point?”
He unlocked his phone to see the photo Chris had posted of him and his dad wearing alarmingly bright Hawaiian shirts.
Chris had broken out of the routine, the habit, the compulsion. He announced his retirement and had apparently been able to set a lifetime of training and practice and playing aside. Traded freezing early morning runs for sipping drinks on a beach.
Miyuki wasn’t sure who he felt sorry for--Chris or himself.
He looked up to find Kuramochi staring at him. “What?”
Kuramochi sighed. “Just...think about it.”
---
takigawachrisyu
Royal Hawaiian Waikiki Beach
[A vibrant ocean and beach with the silhouette of Diamond Head in the background.]
takigawachrisyu Wish you were here.
---
Which of course meant that Miyuki couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Which was why he was still awake when his phone lit up with another notification. He reached for his phone in the dark and grinned when he saw Chris’ post.
The sunrise over the ocean with the caption: Early morning run.
Miyuki typed out a comment.
How many days did you make it before you had to find a batting cage?
Chris’ response was almost instantaneous.
Three.
Miyuki laughed as he locked his phone and settled back into bed.
He had no problems sleeping after that.
---
ORIGINAL MAI TAI RECIPE
1 oz. Bacardi Rum
1 tsp. Cherry Vanilla Puree
½ oz. Amaretto di Saronno
½ oz. Cointreau
1 oz. Fresh Govinda Orange Juice
2 oz. Fresh Govinda Pineapple Juice
½ oz. Whaler’s Dark Rum Float
Roll the shaker, pour in a large “bucket” glass. Float with Whaler’s Dark Rum, garnish with a parasol with cherry, pineapple, and lime wedge.
---
miyukikazuya
Tokyo
[The view from Miyuki’s balcony. Tokyo at night in the background. A drink in his hand in the foreground. The drink looks very much like a dressed down Mai Tai.]
miyukikazuya Home sweet home.
---
Sawamura was back in Japan. The lefty had signed with the Seattle Mariners six years ago. The team was opening the MLB season against the Oakland A’s at the Tokyo Dome.
Chris was asked, for some reason, to do a small fluff of an interview. Miyuki suspected that Sawamura more or less insisted upon him and the TV station agreed because Chris knew baseball and knew both languages.
Miyuki watched Chris follow after Sawamura as he showed his teammates around Tokyo. Sawamura was still Sawamura. Even after all this time and all of his success, he still talked too loudly and spouted facts that were wrong. Chris would translate for the audience what Sawamura was saying to his teammates and then quietly added corrections.
Sawamura’s Mariner teammates seemed to be familiar with his style of conversing because they would smile and nod understandably. It seemed no matter what continent, no matter what language, Sawamura was still winning people over.
Enough to get them to try natto.
Sawamura suffered along with the rest of them. He was obviously disgusted as he spouted off the health benefits of eating natto.
Only his catcher seemed to genuinely like the stuff. He ate calmly and got Chris to tell the story about how he taught him the out-low. They conversed easily in English. Even Sawamura would interject once and a while in English.
Miyuki needed to read the subtitles.
Sawamura cried when Chris interviewed him one-on-one.
And Miyuki knew the feeling.
---
After the interview with Sawamura, it was like the whole world finally realized what Miyuki had known all along. That Chris was competent and articulate and easy to love.
Miyuki had no idea why it had taken so damn long.
---
Miyuki stopped swinging and stepped back into the cage. “Holy shit. Look at you.”
Chris gave an embarrassed laugh as he ran a hand across the back of the neck. “Do I look silly? Because I feel pretty silly.”
It was Miyuki’s turn to laugh because ‘silly’ was not how he would describe Chris in a suit.
“You look like an adult.”
Chris snorted. “I’m almost forty. I hope I look like an adult.”
Miyuki grinned and he signaled to the pitcher that he was done. He peeled out of his batting gloves as he walked around the cage and headed for the dugout.
“Congratulations on the new job by the way.”
Chris shrugged as he fell in step with him. “Helping to host a radio pregame show is hardly anything to brag about.”
“Then why did they ask me to be on the show?” joked Miyuki as he stepped down into the dugout.
Chris leaned up against the railing. “I asked you to be on.”
“I know. Why do you think I agreed?” Miyuki put away his gloves and his bat. “Besides with a face like yours, how much do you want to bet you’ll be on TV by the All Star Game?” Miyuki turned and glanced at Chris who was looking at him with a baffled expression on his face. “What?”
Chris shook his head. “Nothing. Come on. You’re going to make me late.”
Miyuki followed Chris to the tiny broadcast booth where Maruyama was already waiting for them. Maruyama was ancient. He’d been doing the radio pregame show for as long as Miyuki could remember.
“First things first,” said Maruyama as he pulled out a stack of papers. “It looks like you had a terrible track record against Takigawa here.”
Miyuki cackled. The old man didn’t pull any punches. Him and Chris were going to get along just fine.
Maruyama adjusted his glasses as he studied the stats. “You lost a little over sixty percent of the time. Are you worried that Takigawa showed all of the other teams in the league how to beat you?”
“If anyone else had figured out a way to beat me they would have done it years ago. ” Miyuki shrugged and folded his arms across his chest. “Besides...there’s only one Chris-senpai.”
Maruyama glanced at Chris over his glasses. “So, what was the secret to your success?”
Chris looked Miyuki up and down and Miyuki fought the urge to sit up straighter in his seat. “Mind games.”
Maruyama gave a dry chuckle. “Mind games?”
“I had a slight advantage since I’ve known Miyuki since our Senior League days. In a way, he’s still trying to win the first game we ever played against each other.” Chris’ gentle tone did little to soften the blow of his words. “It’s what’s driven him to be the best, but it’s also why he hardly ever won.”
“Damn,” breathed Miyuki.
Even off the field, Chris was still taking him apart.
---
takigawachrisyu
Tokyo Dome
[The view from the radio broadcast booth looking out across the field of Tokyo Dome.]
takigawachrisyu Home sweet home.