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“Psssft,” Miyuki hissed, prodding his friend roughly in between his shoulders. “Move your fat head. I can’t see the projection screen over your hair.”
Kazuya smiled widely, enjoying the disgusted sneer that spread across old friend’s face. Before the grin could even reach his eyes, Kuramochi had already kicked his chair back, smashing Kazuya’s fingers in between his desk and the chair. He winced, sucking in his breath sharply, but laughed anyway, kicking the back of Kuramochi’s chair.
“I swear to God, Miyuki, if you don’t shut up,” he snarled, leaning back on his chair with his arm draped over Kazuya’s desk. “I’m going to punch you.”
“You’ve been saying that for years – I’m starting to think you’re just a bluff, Mochi.” He let the nickname roll off of his tongue with as much salt as he could muster, flicking his tongue hard against the roof of his mouth between the syllables of his name.
Too easy
He could practically see the hair on Kuramochi’s neck stand up; his shoulders tensed and he opened his mouth, teeth bared and fists clenched, and Kazuya felt a thrill of excitement shiver down his arms at the sight of him. Ungluing people was almost a hobby at this point.
“Excuse me? Do you boys have something you’d like to share with the rest of us?”
Kazuya relaxed, disappointed, and watched Kuramochi reluctantly turn around, changing the expression on his face so quickly that Kazuya might have been surprised if he wasn’t already used to the sight. His lips fanned out and a charming, endearing smile came to his mouth, rightfully abashed and guilty. He scratched the back of his head, stretching to gaze back at their instructor.
“Ah, no, Professor. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”
The woman clicked her tongue but conceded, resuming her dull lecture at her previous pace. Kazuya sniggered and leaned back, continuing to put pressure on the legs of Kuramochi’s chair, pressing until it moved forward, slightly. Kuramochi said nothing but he could see the other’s hand twitch slightly, and Kazuya laughed again, satisfied with the reaction.
∞
Practice that night was beyond brutal. The college that both Kazuya and Kuramochi had decided to attend on a whim was known for its baseball and pro alumni – that in itself was enough to satisfy both boys in their decision. Kazuya had done the research but was hardly prepared for the intense regimen and the relentless coaching team. There were four of them and each of them were their own kind of monster – even Katoka would be impressed – and the worst of them all was in charge of the new first years and the third string.
This is nothing compared to the first string. Keep running!
You call that imaginative? I’m fifty years old and I would have hit that pitch
A pitcher is only as good as their catcher, at this rate you’ll hold us back. Quit!
I don’t know what kind of school you went to Pretty Boy, but your antics won’t work here. You’re wasting my time. I might as well have you play catch with my dog.
While he wasn’t as affected as most, the words still stung. This was a very different environment from that at Seido. He was no longer Captain, no longer in control, and no longer surrounded by a slew of admiring pitchers. He hadn’t even been able to catch for anyone in the second string, let alone starters or official players. Two months in and his only saving grace was Kuramochi.
When Kuramochi had said he’d go with Kazuya to his choice of university Kazuya had been floored. He had been preparing for months to cut his ties with Seido, slowly trying to lock away the foundation that was his baseball. While he could never truly dodge Sawamura, he hadn’t expected Kuramochi to be right there with him. He made a show of his discontent; starting fights whenever he could, laughing outrageously at any offense, a dirty look here and there just prove he had heard what Kazuya could say. At this point, even the murderous threats against his life had somehow become endearing, if not plain cute.
Cute?
Kuramochi was a loud, demanding and aggressive part of his life. But on the last night of their very last game, when everyone had vacated his room except for a dozing and drooling Sawamura, he had looked at Kazuya and scowled, his eyes darkening with irritation.
“You’re not acting like yourself. We’re gonna be fine after this. The team is going to be fine after we leave. You were a good captain. We were good captains.”
Kazuya had not been able to find the words to respond with so he settled for smirking and throwing a playstation remote at him, but none the less, he was comforted by his words in a way that bothered him. He had been told countless times by teachers, coaches and fellow teammates that he would do great things after Seido, but somehow, hearing the words come from Kuramochi’s mouth had made it seem real and believable.
I can’t move
The catcher sighed, testing the weight in his legs by way of a crab stretch; he pressed all of his weight into his arms, using his legs to balance the position and raised himself nearly to an even position before his arms gave and he fell back on his ass, landing roughly on the grass.
“Man, you must be getting old or something. I know the summer training camp was worse than this.”
“Talk it up. I saw you eat shit after the 30th lap. Not to mention you couldn’t dodge that pitch earlier.”
Kuramochi scowled, aiming a sharp kick at Kazuya’s hip. “Whatever. Wanna play some video games?”
“I’d rather sleep, but you’re just about as persistent as Bakamura with video games.”
“Shut up.” He reached a hand out to Kazuya, deftly stopping his hand right in front of his face.
“I’m good,” Kazuya, said ignoring the pain in his thighs and struggling to stand up. Kuramochi scoffed and grabbed him by his collar, switching to grip his arm as soon as he straightened out and Kazuya had to grab him for support, wincing under the pressure of his very tired body, holding onto Kuramochi’s arms.
“Sorry,” he stuttered, adjusting his glasses and covering his warm face. “I guess I wasn’t as good as I thought I was.” He looked up Kuramochi and was surprised when the other was looking at the ground, a slight blush at his cheeks.
“You’re still holding on to me,” he stated, although he made no effort to back away from Kazuya.
“Oh? Well you,” he said, throwing all his body weight into Kuramochi, clinging on to him childishly, knocking knees with the other, “Are the one who offered, so, take responsibility.”
“Tch,” was his only reply and Kazuya laughed, straightening up. He glanced up, hoping to find more color on the other’s face, but instead he was faced with the saddening realization that Kuramochi had actually grown taller than him.
“What the hell,” he nearly hissed it out, standing tall and staring at Kuramochi’s forehead. It was only about an inch, potentially less, but it was enough to piss him off. “When did you get taller than me?”
Kuramochi just cackled loudly, leaning forward, clutching his stomach and looking like he was trying not to pee himself. Kazuya waited patiently, rolling his eyes before joining in, shoving the other boy roughly in the shoulder.
“Hey,” he said softly, collapsing back onto the grass, dragging Kuramochi down with him. He complied, unexpectedly laying his head in Kazuya’s lap.
“Yeah?” he inquired, looking up at Kazuya almost innocently, as if laying down in his lap was the most normal thing he could do.
Maybe it is
“I kinda like this,” he said, focusing his gaze on Kuramochi. “Whatever this is, I like it.”
Kuramochi laughed loudly, slapping Kazuya’s thigh behind his head. “I know, stupid. Me too.”