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- Can I?
It was the night after the intrasquad game—the game in which Asada Hirofumi had been absolutely decimated, and he was ready to sink into a blissful slumber and forget all about his horrendous high school debut. But it was a tad difficult at the moment as his roommates—the two noisiest people on the team, as his luck would have it—returned from their extra training. Asada found it unbelievable how anyone could still move after enduring all that, let alone willin gly practice more. Coach Kataoka’s comment about many of them not being physically ready for the second string was still fresh in his mind when Kuramochi senpai took his shirt off, displaying rock-hard abs that had Asada pinching his own matchstick-thin arm in shame and disappointment.
He was jolted out of it when Sawamura senpai, currently occupying Asada’s bed instead of his own, barked out a laugh. “Asada, why are you looking at Kuramochi senpai like that?”
Trying to hide his rapidly reddening cheeks as the green-haired guy looked up curiously, he muttered, “N-nothing. It’s…nothing, Sawamura senpai.”
“Do you perhaps …like… him, Asada?” he asked in a stage whisper.
Asada yelped at the sudden implication. Kuramochi senpai, having finished changing, jumped on Sawamura senpai. “What nonsense are you spouting now, Bakamura? Did too much shoujo manga rot whatever remaining brain you had?”
“I’m sorry, I give, I give, Kuramochi senpai!” The southpaw yelled desperately after a few moment of torture. When he was free, he turned to Asada again who was making sure his senpai still had all his limbs intact. “So? Why were you staring at him like he was your dinner for tonight?”
Sawamura senpai bolted onto his bed in a show of superhuman reflexes before Kuramochi senpai could seize him again and lay down with a pillow pushed under his chin, waiting for Asada’s answer. Now the attention of both occupants of the room was solely on him and it suddenly felt like sandpaper was stuck to his throat.
“Uh…um…I was just…” He swallowed hard before rushing on. “I was just wondering how hard I’d have to work to get to either of your levels.”
The upperclassmen exchanged a brief glance before Kuramochi senpai laughed. “Hyaha! So that’s what you’re worried about? Don’t fret, Asada, we were much the same as you when we came here. Well, maybe not this guy, He’s always been a bit thick-headed—”
“Oi!”
“—but me? I was your typical delinquent with no redeeming qualities aside from my speed to speak of. Just keep going like you are now and never waver in your conviction. It’ll come to you in time.”
Sawamura senpai, who was now hanging upside down from his bed, added, “Yeah! Besides, you have one of the most unique pitches I’ve ever seen.”
That was true. Facing failure after failure due to his lanky figure, he had decided to turn it into his greatest asset. After long hours in the library and watching endless videos, he had finally discovered the 12-6 curveball and worked just as long to perfect it. Not that it had seemed to matter to his senpai today as they hit homerun after homerun off his best pitch. It was honestly somewhat traumatising how effortless they had made it appear. He felt bad for Okumura who had to clean up after his mess so many times.
"Once you get a bit used to things, I'll ask Furuya to share his special menus with you. God knows that guy had awful stamina when he first started—still does, in fact."
"Furuya senpai? But he's a power pitcher!"
"Exactly. He could barely last three innings without melting on the mound."
When Sawamura senpai started having too much fun describing his rival's shortcomings, Kuramochi senpai interrupted, "Oi, Bakamura, don't forget that happened with you in the match against Ugumori too. You slept like the dead for an entire day, hyaha!"
"Senpaaaaai, why do you have to bring up my dark past in front of the kids?" Sawamura pretended to shed tears, making Asada laugh out loud.
He truly appreciated their attempts to cheer him up. It was somewhat heartwarming that even after being on the first string and clearly being busy with their own problems, they took out the time to encourage him. And at the end of the day, he supposed, if a guy with as endless a supply of energy as Sawamura senpai and someone like Furuya senpai who seemed to fire off a bazooka with every pitch could still have stamina issues and become the ace, perhaps things weren't completely hopeless for him either. It was just a matter of persistence.
- Left Behind
Kuki Youhei stood behind the chainlink fence surrounding field B, watching the pitcher (now turned centre fielder) he once admired take the mound again. Toujou senpai remained as steadfast and consistent as he had been in middle school, pitching to contact and effortlessly getting batters out. He clenched the metal links tight. It was getting harder and harder to catch up. He hadn’t even made the second string yet.
“Kuki-kun!” It was Asada, followed by Sawamura senpai. Kuki somewhat envied him for sharing his dorm room with a first string pitcher. He would probably be receiving tons of useful advice from them.
Sawamura greeted him before turning towards the on-going game. “Toujou is doing pretty well, huh? He’s been holding their lineup down pretty well.” He took a deep breath, cupped his hands around his mouth and started yelling, “GO, GO, TOUJOU!” attracting the attention of the spectators as well as the players on the field.
The first years chuckled at their senpai’s familiar antics before Kuki said wistfully, “Yeah, he’s a great pitcher.” He thought he had done a good job of tucking away the ruefulness in his voice. He didn’t want anyone catching sight of the ugly feelings bubbling up inside him.
But then Sawamura senpai slung an arm around his shoulder. “What are you looking all mopey about, Kuki? Wanna play that badly? Aren’t you a greedy first year?”
But the genuine question beneath the teasing made Kuki cave. He didn’t even care if Asada heard any of it, the guy was too nice for his own good anyway. He hid his face in his hands, muffling his voice. “I don’t think I can even if I wanted to.”
“Eh??? What do you mean? Why not?”
His shoulders slumped. “Right before coming here, I broke my leg playing soccer. An extremely stupid thing to do, I know. That led to me joining practice almost two weeks after everyone else and they already feel miles away from me. Like I can never catch up, no matter how hard I try.”
Sawamura senpai remained silent for a moment.
“Did you know that in our first intrasquad game against the senpai, Toujou gave up 12 runs in the very first inning?”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, it was a disaster. The senpai last year were as fired up as you saw in your own game, including our former ace, Tanba-san—he’d been demoted after a lousy performance." The southpaw laughed, a nostalgic look crossing his face. “ So our batters couldn’t touch his pitches and our pitcher was falling apart on the mound. It was any first year's nightmare come true. But he didn’t give up.”
“Didn’t he switch to being an outfielder?” The question had been eating away at Kuki ever since he’d found out about it. How could the best pitcher he had ever known have given up the mound willingly?
“Well, yeah,” Sawamura senpai admitted. “But for any and all members of Seidou, the most important thing is getting to play. And the Coach saw that potential in him. So he dedicated himself to that with just as much passion as he has for pitching. And what do you know, I wouldn’t have anyone else watching my back on the field.”
Kuki looked back out at the field, his flagging respect for his upperclassman reaching new heights. He hadn’t thought less of Toujou senpai but he definitely had been disappointed. One of his major goals had always been to try and beat Toujou senpai to become the ace. And now, that was never going to happen.
Sawamura senpai, however, wasn’t done yet. “He never gave up on being a pitcher, though. Even after knowing he’d probably never pitch in official games, he kept at it. He relentlessly worked on improving his control by helping out during batting practice. He throws exactly to the spots they’re weak at hitting, Kanemaru absolutely hates it. Without a catcher to help him, he came this far and well—” He motioned vaguely towards the mound, “—you can see how well it paid off.”
With one final smile, Sawamura senpai left Kuki behind with his thoughts in turmoil and rushed towards the field where they had just won the game, yelling like a madman. Kuki wondered if he was really the same guy who had been reassuring him mere moments ago. Man, what a riot. What he couldn’t deny was that his heart was feeling much, much lighter. He could only go forward from here and that he would, come hell or high water.
- More than a brother
Yuuki Masashi was mad. Pissed off. Absolutely livid. Sweat poured down his back in buckets and his arms burned with the effort of holding up the metal bat. His eyes had started stinging too but he wasn’t sure if the wetness was from the sweat dripping into them or if they were tears. Still he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Because as soon as he did, images of his pathetic performances flashed through his mind, the mocking laughter of the alumni ringing in his years in an endless loop, the doubts and worries that haunted him in his dreams clamouring for attention in broad daylight—or darkness. He hadn’t even noticed when the sun had fully set, leaving him alone under the gently flickering street lamp.
“Oi, Masashi!” It was only out of pure reflex, honed after years of gruelling practice, that he caught the bottle hurled at him. He was about to tell whoever it was to be more careful when Sawamura senpai stepped into the light, holding a box of onigiri. His stomach gave a loud, embarrassing growl at the sight of food.
Sawamura senpai chuckled. He dropped the box on the solitary bench and patted the spot next to him. “Come and take a break before you injure yourself, idiot.”
Masashi put up no fight; he propped the bat on the back of the bench and plopped down, his hand already halfway inside the box. The onigiri were still warm in their wrapping. He suspected senpai might have snuck an entire tray away from the team. Why, he couldn’t say but it reminded him of how his aniki used to give him snacks away from their mother's eyes.
“You sure love swinging that bat, huh? How many do you do every day? 100? 200?” He tried to swallow hurriedly so he could reply, almost choking, but Sawamura senpai went on. “No wonder your swing is strong enough to scare the best of pitchers away. Even I get nervous sometimes at the thought of facing it.” He chuckled.
“It doesn’t matter if I can’t even hit the ball, though.”
Sawamura senpai fell silent and Masashi almost regretted speaking up. He was enjoying the gentle warmth and noise the southpaw brought with him. It made him feel like he wasn’t fully isolated, like he didn't have the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, at least for a little while. It made him feel less lonely. He wondered how he could bring it back.
“But you do. And when you do, it’s never anything less than a homerun.”
“It’s not enough!” Masashi finally burst out, turning to face the southpaw watching him with a mild look on his face. “It’s not good enough getting a single homerun if I get struck out almost always otherwise. And my fielding is unspeakably atrocious. Asou senpai reminds me every day. I’ve heard what they say about me. Yuuki Tetsuya’s dumb, useless younger brother, they call me. The players think I only got to the first string because of who my brother was. They think it’s favouritism. And I know, I know, I’ll never be good enough as aniki but I’m trying my best. Why is it never enough?”
He knew it wasn’t fair to push his own burdens on Sawamura senpai, that the southpaw didn’t hold any answers for him. But weeks of carrying around the disappointment and shame and humiliation of failure had taken its toll on him and he couldn’t stop it from coming out.
“Miyuki Kazuya once told me that Tetsu-san and his generation were called the weakest batch by the seniors when they first entered Seidou.”
“What?” He had never heard about this. Granted, the Yuuki brothers had never been very good at communicating verbally, preferring to speak through baseball instead, but Masashi was sure his brother would’ve mentioned something like this.
“No one had any expectations of them, they were completely disregarded as a bad lot. But whenever I played with them, all I saw were some of the most reliable people I’ve ever known. There was no one else who’d have your back on the field as solidly as they did.” Sawamura senpai finally looked back at him and Masashi felt like a butterfly pinned in place, his breath stuttering at the sheer intensity of the gaze. “What people say is always just opinion and never fact. It’s up to you to prove them right or wrong and I say you shut them up.”
“But what if they’re right?” Masashi whispered. He had no idea how much he had been aching for some reassurance until it was given to him.
“Even if they are, just for now , you’ve got the next three years to make them eat their words. What are you so worried about? I don’t see anybody else staying behind to swing as much as you do even though you could easily go home.”
Masashi’s eyes widened in realisation. He jumped up and looked around in surprise. “I forgot to go home!” He hoped his parents hadn’t sent out a search party or something.
He panicked for a split second before he heard Sawamura senpai roaring in laughter, slapping his knee and wiping tears from his eyes. Masashi certainly didn’t find his predicament even half as funny.
“Oh, man! I can’t believe you actually forgot to go home. And here I thought my kouhai couldn't get any more entertaining” Finally, he stopped and inhaled deeply, composing himself. Yet his eyes still twinkled with mirth. “Don’t worry, you can stay in our dorm for tonight. Just make sure to call your parents and let them know.”
Masashi followed Sawamura senpai to their dorm, where he was welcomed by Asada and Kuramochi senpai. The shortstop made it clear beforehand that any injuries caused by wayward video game consoles on the floor were not his responsibility before pulling Sawamura senpai into a wrestling move that bent his arms and legs into alarming angles for inviting a guest without permission. Asada reassured him that this was a common occurrence that was apparently not as painful for Sawamura senpai as it looked due to his freakishly flexible joints. Masashi gave the duo rolling on the floor a dubious glance before shrugging—it was fine as long as no one died. His brother had thoroughly enlightened him on teenage shenanigans.
That night, in spite of Kuramochi senpai’s deafening snores and Sawamura senpai’s mutterings that sounded uncannily like dialogues from shoujo mangas, Masashi had one of the most peaceful rests in a long time.
- Don't push too hard
Seto Takuma had known Okumura Koushuu for most of his life, from being neighbours and childhood best friends to vengeful teammates carrying their team to victory and never once had he seen the blond give a single indication of having any romantic inclinations. So of course, he had watched with a great deal of amusement as Koushuu had fallen hard for a certain southpaw. Not that he realised what he was feeling was a crush and not just an irrational irritation at their senpai.
"And...and he's just so frustrating, you know?" Koushuu was ranting again. "He doesn't want to be quiet, he doesn't want to be composed and he absolutely refuses to put out that ridiculous smile of his!"
Taku covered up a twinge of annoyance with a teasing smirk. Lately, all their conversations had followed a similar thread. After official practice ended, they'd meet up and swing together for an hour or so, and then proceed to talk about their respective day in the first and second strings. Well, that's how it was supposed to be. Taku didn't remember the last time he had heard (or talked about) anything other than Sawamura senpai and frankly, the novelty was wearing off. At least Koushuu hadn't cancelled their after-practice ritual today in favour of observing the pitcher or studying the scorebook from his matches or something else related to Sawamura senpai like he had every single day for the past week. And Taku was grateful for that. He truly was. Now if only the very subject of their conversation hadn't popped up beside them.
"Oi, Okumura, catch for me?"
Taku said nothing, just waited in silence for Koushuu to refuse, to say he was busy, to at least acknowledge his friend's presence as some factor in his decision. But of course it was a mere pipe dream.
"Only 50 pitches, senpai, you're starting the game tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, wolf boy!"
Koushuu didn't look back; Taku supposed, after all these years, it was a given that he would follow behind. He tried to suppress his budding bitterness deep inside. Seto Takuma would always support his best friend with a smile on his face. He just wasn't sure if he'd succeeded.
Taku watched from the sidelines as Koushuu and Sawamura senpai threw the ball back and forth to warm up. Despite all the emotions clouding his brain, he was still a baseball idiot through and through. And right now, he was provided the free opportunity to witness one the most peculiar pitchers in action. If only he could—
"Seto!"
The black-haired boy glanced up in surprise.
"Would you mind standing in the batter's box?" Sawamura senpai asked him with a knowing grin. What he knew, Taku didn't have a clue.
"M-me?" Taku pointed towards himself. He glanced at Koushuu to gauge his reaction "Are you sure?"
Koushuu nodded. "I'd like to confirm the trajectory of some pitches. You know how wild he gets at times."
"Oi, wolf boy, that's not very nice! My control has been improving, y'know." Sawamura turned to Taku again, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Still, get the full protective gear, just in case, Seto. There's a reason Kanemaru refuses to help me out anymore."
"Yeah, he's using you as a scapegoat. Be careful not to get hit, first year!" The sandy-haired batter in question called out from the other side of the indoor practice area.
Taku couldn't hold still. He was just glad he didn't have to watch in silence anymore. After strapping on the gear, he pulled on his gloves, grabbed his bat and face protector and walked up to the batter's box.
"Go easy on me, Koushuu," he laughed, his voice muffled.
"I would, but even then there's more than a 50% chance you'd get hit, Taku."
His eyes widened. Before he could process what his friend was implying, the ball was hurtling towards him. It came in high, right down the middle and just when he thought it would be an easy-to-hit pitch, it disappeared. Taku staggered backwards, glancing between the battery speechlessly.
"Wahaha! How was that one, wolf boy?"
"Still a weak course, senpai. It'd have been a ball."
Sawamura flailed his arms in indignation. "Oh, come on! No one can resist swinging at that. Seto, you tell him! You'd have swung at that if it were in a game, wouldn't you?"
"Don't you dare encourage him," Koushuu muttered under his breath as he saw the wide smirk spread across Taku's face.
Taku couldn't suppress the happiness in his chest. The nostalgia of playing with Koushuu again was a hard pill to swallow. Nevertheless, he shook his head and called out, "I totally would have, senpai!" feeling just a tad smug at Koushuu's glare.
They continued like that for a while, Taku volunteering as a lab rat for the battery's experiments and laughing and teasing Koushuu with Sawamura senpai, who seemed particularly glad to have found a comrade against the prickly catcher. By the time they were wrapping up, Taku could feel his smile the most genuine it had been in weeks. Apparently, getting hit by pitches multiple times was therapeutic for him. He wondered briefly if he should be concerned.
"We should do that more often," Sawamura senpai said, slinging an arm around his shoulder.
"Should we, senpai?" Taku grinned back. "I'm not sure I'd like waking up with numerous painful bruises every day."
Sawamura senpai threw his head back and laughed. Then he pushed Taku towards Koushuu who was approaching them after stowing his gear away. "Maybe I'll have a few particularly bad days sometimes and take off early. Okumura shouldn't be spending too much time around me or he might lose some brain cells. Plus I could drag out that damn tanuki to finally catch for me."
Taku wondered if this is what passing through a hurricane felt like as he watched the southpaw exit the training area, joining Kominato and Kanemaru senpai, bickering about something.
- Angel in disguise
Yui Kaoru was used to being disregarded and underestimated, whether it be due to his short stature or baby face. He had dealt with it all his life just fine. There wasn't much he could do about genes after all. Complaining about it only brought pitiful glances and false sympathy. What he could do was shut down all those doubts with his bat and his plays. Those he had confidence in. Baseball had never let him down and he had always, always done his best to return the favour. Yet here he was, one evening after practice, with his head in his hands, doubting his own capabilities. Was this what he had come to Seidou for? To be told to his face that he wasn't good enough? To always be in the shadow of another player? To carry such great frustration and self-doubt that it had started affecting his performance? To curse himself for being weak and unreliable? His small shoulders shook as he was overwhelmed by the warring emotions.
"Yui-shounen?"
Yui jumped. It was Sawamura senpai, probably coming to get a drink from the vending machine. He got up in a hurry, dashed the telltale wetness from his eyes and gave the southpaw a smile that felt like plastic on his face.
"Good evening, Sawamura senpai. Are you done with your laps?"
Receiving only a non-committal hum in response as Sawamura entered some change into the machine, he wondered if he should try to continue the conversation. At least one pitcher seemed to take notice of Yui's presence on the team and he would do whatever it took to keep it that way. Turns out the pitcher himself had another plan in mind.
Sawamura senpai turned around and held out an oolong tea towards him, settling down on the bench with an orange Ramune. Yui nodded in thanks and took a long, grateful sip of the warm drink.
After a few moments of silence (which he didn't think Sawamura senpai was capable of) the pitcher asked, "So...what's bugging you?"
"Huh?" Yui whipped around in surprise. Had he let something unpleasant show on his face?
Sawamura shrugged. "You're usually ready to fire off a hundred questions in a single breath at any given time. Plus you ended your batting practice with Yuuki early today. So I was wondering if something was wrong."
Yui couldn't believe his ears. He had never thought that someone he'd always considered as an airhead would be the first to notice what he had tried so hard to hide. Not their sharp-eyed captain, not the pitcher he admired and followed but this—this one he had only caught for once in the bullpen and had barely had a handful of conversations with.
And maybe that—the sense of unfamiliarity, of essentially being strangers was what caused him to let out a long sigh, setting his empty can down by his feet.
"Furuya-san refused to pitch to me again today." When Sawamura said nothing, he continued, "I-I just...I don't get it. It's like all the experience I gained in the Little League World series, all the skills I acquired, all the training and late nights and early mornings mean absolutely nothing to him. How am I supposed to convey anything to him if he won't even give me a chance?"
His breath came out in harsh gasps after the outburst. He closed his eyes and tried to bring it under control. He was already starting to regret it. What was he thinking, dumping all this nonsense on his already tired senpai?
But Sawamura didn't look as if he felt burdened. In fact, he was staring at Yui in contemplation. "You know," he began in a voice so unlike his usual vociferous one that Yui snapped to attention, "Furuya has all the social skills of a polar bear. He never talks much in general, but especially never about himself. But you know me, I never let something go that easily."
Sawamura winked, making Yui crack a small smile. He had come to that very well over the past few weeks. The southpaw folded his arms behind his head and faced skywards.
"From what I've gathered, he had a...difficult time in Hokkaido. No one in his middle school could catch his full-power pitches and as a result, they shunned him from the team. Nobody wanted to play with him. He spent his time pitching to the snow and somewhere in that cold loneliness, he formed the impression that only a catcher as genius as Miyuki Kazuya was worth his time."
Understanding bloomed in Yui's mind as a lot of Furuya-san's reactions started to make sense—the cold rejection, the mentions of not wanting to hold back, all of it. But at the same time, a hysterical need to scream about the unfairness of it all rose in his chest. It wasn't fair that Furuya-san had to deal with such awfulness because of others' incompetence and it certainly wasn't fair that it led to him losing faith in everyone else.
Perhaps sensing his approaching outburst, Sawamura senpai held up a hand. "However, it is high time he changed his ways. Miyuki senpai, Ono senpai and even Kariba, who used to get completely steamrolled, can catch his pitches now. I think it's about time he started trusting his teammates again."
Yui didn't know what to say. He had no time to gather his thoughts as Sawamura senpai turned to him with a fierce grin full of challenge. "I'll do my best! I'll train harder and improve and become strong enough that he can rely on me without any doubts anymore," he blurted out, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face.
"Hahaha! That's the spirit, Yui-shounen! And for that, I shall take you under my wing and teach you the ways of the mighty." The brilliant, dazzling smile transformed his entire face—gone was the fleeting glimpse of maturity, the essence of a true ace that Yui had just seen. He was back to being the overly-assertive airhead again.
A few weeks later, the day before the semi-final match against Ichidai Sankou, Yui watched Miyuki and Furuya walk away with growing apprehension. On one hand, he wanted to chase after them, to demand to be allowed to observe and maybe even participate but the lingering doubt in his mind whispered that he'd only be getting in the way.
He felt a nudge on his shoulder. It was Sawamura senpai. "Go and get 'em, Yui-shounen, this is your chance!" Yui could see him trying to keep the forced grin in place as he nodded in encouragement despite the raw disappointment still clouding his eyes.
And Yui decided, as he walked away from the southpaw, up to the ace, that he would indeed become stronger and a more capable catcher, but not only for Furuya-san's sake. No, he would grow and improve so that one day, he'd be worthy enough to form a battery—a true battery—with Sawamura Eijun.
- Works of art
No matter how much 'evidence' Taku presented, Okumura Koushuu was not emotionally constipated. He just preferred to play baseball without complicating it with inconsequential matters like feelings. Certainly not the romantic kind.
And so what if Koushuu vented a bit about a certain wild pitcher every once in a while? Heavens knew he was troublesome enough to send him to an early grave. So what if he pored over his scorebook and game videos almost obsessively? He needed to do whatever he could to get to the first string and beat Miyuki Kazuya. And so what if he stop thinking about Sawamura senpai's eyes of molten gold—
Oh.
Yeah, he wasn't emotionally constipated. But there was no harm in letting his best friend live under that belief a little longer. Just until Koushuu could admit the fact that he liked Sawamura senpai to himself without wanting to jump out of the closest window. When did it happen? How did it even start? The last Koushuu remembered, he had been doubting his impulsive decision to follow Sawamura senpai to Seidou and then— And then they had formed a battery.
"...should I help you warm up?..."
"...work of art created by a pitcher and catcher…"
"Will you create that art with me?"
"—lf boy! Okumura!" A hand waved in front of his face, snapping him out of his unwanted thoughts. Only to come face to face with the very subject of most of them. He tried not to sigh out loud.
"I asked if you wanted to bat today for a change. Wouldn't want your batting skills to get rusty, now, would we?"
Trying not to focus too hard on those enticing eyes that constantly seemed to glow with a light of their own, Koushuu raised an eyebrow. "Senpai, I'm pretty sure my batting average is higher than yours."
"Oi, is that any way to talk to your elders, wolf boy? Where is the respect?" He didn't shrug off the arm weighing down on his shoulder, nor did he pull away from the deafening voice; he simply convinced himself that he was conserving his energy for practice instead of struggling in vain.
He also pretended not to notice the knowing smirk Taku gave him as they arrived at their designated spot where the other first years were already gathered. Koushuu was loath to let anyone else partner up with his pitcher but he couldn't deny the immense advantage of getting his eyes used to Sawamura senpai's peculiar pitching. So he tried hard not to grimace as he watched Yui stand too close to the southpaw as they spoke softly behind their mitts or when they took deep breaths together on the mound. Instead, he channelled all his frustration into the bat and watched smugly as the very first pitch—a predictable four-seamer to the inside—sailed up, up and away into the fence. Of course in the pitcher's petty vengeance, he missed the next three that just so happened to be Sawamura senpai's speciality, number seven: the cutter kai. He switched out with Kuki after that but he could feel the intensity of the southpaw's gaze on him. That's right, keep looking at me. I'll show you.
Dear gods, if this was what it was like to have feelings for someone, he wouldn't wish it on his worst enemies.
The staff and senior players of Seidou Baseball Club soon became familiar with the sight of their resident loudmouth building his own personal army of first years. First, it began with his roommate, but one by one they started trailing after him like lost ducklings. One could find Sawamura surrounded by at least five first years at any given time of the day—before, during and after practice. No one would have been surprised if they were told that the first years followed the southpaw during school hours too. They didn't, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Apparently, Okumura and Seto had shown up outside his class one day, the former holding a scorebook in his hands. It was only after Sawamura had sternly told them to focus on their studies (after being reprimanded himself by Kanemaru because Sawamura Eijun never refused baseball) that they had given up.
Even Sawamura's morning and evening ritual of running with those damned tires had quickly become popular among the first years, who took it as a measure to show their promise. These days, practice usually ended with two or more of the first years (usually Asada and Okumura) lying on the ground, half-dead, while Sawamura breezed through his laps, that obnoxious laugh of his echoing through the field the entire time.
Sawamura, in his turn, had taken to spending extra time training with them. It consisted of mini-scrimmages with Sawamura pitching and Okumura or Yui behind the home plate while the rest took turns in the batter's box. It often resulted in a surprising number of hits making outside parties wonder if Sawamura was deliberately going easy on his kouhai. But, in another uncharacteristic display of ingenuity, the pitcher had suggested calling out the pitches being thrown in order to get Masashi used to making contact with the ball and for Yui and Okumura to keep track of which pitches they had most trouble with. Sometimes, he'd swap out with Kuki or Asada and take to yelling out suggestions from the sidelines, which annoyed Okumura to no end. They were within a 2 metre radius of each other and yet, Sawamura spoke as if he was trying to let the entire country know about Asada's dropping elbow.
Much to the amazement of the coaches, slowly and steadily, Yuuki's swings started connecting more often, Yui could handle any of Furuya's pitches while Okumura didn't let any of Sawamura's balls pass anymore. Seto's baserunning had become even more devilish as he stopped running on the first pitch, and Kuki and Asada didn't resemble malnourished zombies by the end of practice anymore. In a practice game against Nanamori, Yui, who always swung with all his might, had dropped into a perfect bunting stance and completely killed the ball's momentum, allowing the runner to reach home and what a surprise that had been.
But it wasn't just them. What had truly left everyone flabbergasted was when Sawamura had hit two RBIs in two consecutive at-bats. Sawamura. The guy they had seen swing all over the place only to get struck out over and over for the past two years. Of course they had no idea about his long sessions spent swinging with Yuuki while Okumura and Yui tried to fix his form without putting any pressure on his pitching, Kuki and Asada taking turns showing him different pitches so they could figure out what was the easiest for the southpaw to hit (tight inside pitches, to absolutely no one's surprise given his fondness for those) while Seto played peacemaker when things started getting too heated between him and Okumura.
"Oi, Miyuki. Is it just me or has that idiot been spending too much time with the newbies?"
"Oh~? Feeling lonely, are we, Kuramochi-kun? Want me to lend you a shoulder?"
"Ugh, shut up, you bastard!"
"Haha! Well, it's true though. They do seem to be getting a bit too chummy, even Okumura isn't trying to bite his head off anymore. I thought those two didn't get along?"
"...I don't like the look on your face."
"Why, thank you. I'm gonna go see if I can stir up some excitement. Things have been getting too complacent around here for my sanity lately."