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It had never even passed through Mihashi’s mind to wonder what color the sky was.
As he practiced baseball so often outside, it hadn’t even fluttered into his conscious to think, “What color is the grass beneath my feet?” or “I wonder what color that butterfly is fluttering by?” or even when his mother would remark upon the prettiness of the flowers, it never dawned on him to ask what colors they were. He couldn’t see in color, because he hadn’t met his soul mate.
If you didn’t know what you were missing, it was kind of hard to miss it at all in the first place.
Elementary school passed quickly for Mihashi. There was a lot of fun games of baseball-- this was before he could join a team, but his love for the sport was quickly growing in leaps and bounds-- as well as after school play dates with the few friends he’d managed to gain on his own. Even when middle school rolled around, it never dawned on Mihashi to wonder about any of the colors in his world, because everything was a blur of black, white, and gray.
It didn’t come upon Mihashi to wonder about colors until Kanou told him, “I really like the color of your hair,” one day and Mihashi realized Shuu-chan already found his soul mate? Everything abruptly ground to a halt. Quaking in his shoes-- he had come to say goodbye to Kanou, because he had chosen to leave Mihoshi-- Mihashi tilted his head a little to the side and his mouth flapped open and closed a few times.
“M-my hair?” he asked. Kanou blinked and then his eyes widened in surprise.
“O-oh!” he hurried to mumble. “I guess you wouldn’t know..? It’s… it’s a nice shade of strawberry blond,” he explained. Mihashi continued to stare in startled disbelief. Kanou had found his soul mate? How long had this been a thing? Mihashi had never paused to think perhaps he should be wondering where and when he’d meet his own. He’d always had the smallest of crushes on Shuugo, but he’d never brought himself to admit it. In this world-- where soul mates are so clearly marked when colors invade your world-- there wasn’t really a point in confessing to crushes knowing they would never be requited, not unless they’re from your soul mate.
“T-thanks,” Mihashi said, trying to ignore the faintest of jealousy warming his stomach and curling around his heart. He wondered what the baseball field would look like in the rain, or the snow, or even in clear skies. He thought about it, and was curious to know if the different seasons changed the colors, if they bled into one another, what color his own mother’s eyes were, or even his own. He’d never thought to ask her.
“I hope you keep playing,” Kanou told him fiercely and Mihashi was abruptly brought back to the present. “Not all baseball is like it was here, Ren.”
Mihashi’s eyes fell away from his friend’s face, and he wiggled back and forth, his hands clasped together. “Goodbye, Shuu-chan,” he told him, and left the conversation at that. They’d already been talking about this for ten minutes. There was really no more Mihashi could say on the matter.
He nearly didn’t get into Nishiura, but thankfully somehow pulled through. There was the hectic schedule of getting everything ready, and then actually going to classes that had him forgetting about soul mates and where his was. Thoughts of joining the newly formed baseball club filtered through his mind, and he even allowed himself to go wandering that way. He’d only stop for a moment to peek. He wasn’t going to join. He had promised himself he was done with baseball, but--
Baseball wasn’t really done with him, not yet.
Momoe pulled him to the field and Mihashi went along, stuttering and stammering, but not fighting it. He didn’t want to fight it. Baseball was inside him now and he didn’t want to let it go. She came to a halt and Mihashi stumbled a little, but stopped as well. Introductions were made, and when Mihashi’s eyes settled upon Abe Takaya, the catcher, Mihashi literally lost his breath.
Both boys seemed taken aback. It was like a system overload for Mihashi himself, because suddenly everything was in color. There was still some white, black and gray, but… it was clearly that way because that’s what was meant to be those colors. Everything else was suddenly infused with different colors, ones he didn’t know the names to put to them. He stared wide-eyed at the dark haired boy in front of him and his mouth gaped open.
“You’re a pitcher?” Abe asked, and Mihashi snapped himself out of it. Abe wasn’t commenting on the new colors surrounding them, so maybe… Mihashi nodded in response to the question. Maybe only Mihashi saw..? No, the way Abe was a little hesitant with each thing he said now told Mihashi that he wasn’t the only one seeing in color. Abe was just choosing not to comment on it yet.
After practice, when everyone was moving off on their own and heading home, Mihashi trailed along behind. He felt like he had been thrown from a high speed car, the realization that baseball wasn’t over for him, that he still had a chance to keep going, to get better, to keep pitching. “Hey,” came a voice from his side, someone Mihashi hadn’t realized was walking next to him. He jumped about two feet in the air before turning slowly to look, a hand clutched over where his heart wildly beat.
“A-Abe-kun,” Mihashi asked, voice tilted up at the end to form the question.
“You see it too, right?” he asked. Nothing more, nothing eloquent or happy, just a simple question. Mihashi slowly nodded. “I thought so.”
They walked the rest of the way to their bikes in silence, and biked home with the others as a group until everyone began to splinter apart. There was a warm glow in the bottom of Mihashi’s stomach as he rode, looking around at the world as if it was new. Everything had its own distinct color now. The sky was a pretty menagerie of different colors woven together, and even the color of Abe’s hair and eyes were beautiful to Mihashi.
It wasn’t long until Mihashi learned that, even if you were soul mates with someone, that didn’t automatically mean your relationship was perfect or easy. Abe was gruff and blunt, but he wasn’t unkind. Mihashi had social anxiety, and garbled his sentences so badly that sometimes people just didn’t understand him, but he wasn’t stupid. Mihashi’s mother used to say, “Anything worth something isn’t easy. Sometimes it takes years of work, or even a lifetime.”
It would take Abe and Mihashi years of work, but… Mihashi found he didn’t much mind it once it came down to it. The more Abe opened up to him-- the more Mihashi opened up to Abe-- the more he found it was worth it, and that his mother was right.
“I like your eyes,” Abe grumbled one night after practice almost a year later, looking anywhere but at Mihashi’s face. Mihashi was quiet so long that Abe finally looked back, only to blink in astonishment. It was like a supernova over Mihashi’s face, as he gave a true smile to Abe and laughed.
“I l-like yours too, Abe-kun,” he told him. Mihashi didn’t comment when a moment later Abe reached out without looking and tangled their fingers together.
It would take a lot of work, but… it was worth it.