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It was yet another sweltering day in Tokyo (did this city know any other temperature other than Melt?), and Furuya Satoru languished in the shade of an old gnarled tree on the far reaches of the Seidou grounds. Nearby, some of his teammates were running dashes from pole to pole, with the loudest presence being the most familiar one.
Furuya’s entire being ached to join them, even if the mere thought of sprinting in this weather made his lunch complain loudly in his belly. Despite his less than ideal tolerance for heat, Furuya would have given anything to run right alongside them, alongside him. However, he had been condemned to staying off his ankle while the rest of the team worked hard for the fall tournament without their ace on the mound.
His fist thumped the ground beside him.
“Oi, Furuya!” came that cheerful voice from the distance, and its owner bounded over to him and dropped to his seat on the grass beside Furuya. A wide grin was glued to his mouth, and he tugged on Furuya’s arm. “Stop being a baby and come practice.”
A brief flash of irritation flared before Furuya squelched it. “I’m not allowed. You know what happened last time I tried.”
They both shuddered at that thought. Kataoka was a scary man on a good day; finding out how scary he could be when medical orders were ignored was another level of frightening entirely. If he closed his eyes, Furuya could still see the glint of danger in their coach’s eyes even past the sunglasses.
But that moment of commiseration passed, and Sawamura’s smile widened. “I have an idea, and not even Shades can object to it.” Furuya sat up, his attention firmly grabbed. “You can toss balls for me to hit.”
“No.” Furuya’s answer was quick and automatic, even if his whole skin itched for baseball in any form.
Sawamura pouted and puffed out his chest. “I’ll be a slugger someday, and when that time comes, do you want to be known as the guy who had absolutely nothing to do with it?”
A laugh caught in Furuya’s throat and came out as a choking wheeze. Immediately, Sawamura’s palm landed hearty slaps on Furuya’s back until he could take a full breath. Despite his burning lungs, a hint of amusement still lingered on his lips. “I’ll still hit farther than you.”
As the two of them headed toward the batting cages, Furuya barely felt a twinge in his injured ankle as Sawamura chirped at him about his batting prowess.
The familiar chatter washed over him, and the more of it he took in, the more Furuya realized that he had sorely missed being drawn into the game with his teammates. Sitting alone while the rest of the hardworking Seidou baseball faithful worked for their common goal had taken more out of him than a hundred blazing suns could ever do.
That was far away now, though. For the moment, the rest of the world melted away, and everything important to him was an arm’s length away. From Sawamura’s loud wails at his failures to the occasional sound of bat striking ball, it set a fresh and steady beat to Furuya’s heart once again.
It was dark before they pulled it in for the night, with Furuya feeling the first real burn of activity he’d had since his ankle had twisted and sidelined him. It had only been a week, but seven days was an eternity when everything that mattered had ground to a halt.
None of that mattered when his best rival was at his side, not treating Furuya like he was made of glass. That little slice of the normal baseball life would never beat the real thing, but it was enough to get him through to the other side. And if he thought about it for days or even years, Furuya couldn’t think of anyone else who could ever pull him back from the sidelines.