Chapter Text
The universe works in a complicated process. Many theories are being developed, trying to explain everything that happened in the world and the universe. The earth is but a small part amongst it, so small, it might as well be dust in the grand scheme. Yet the earth itself has existed far longer than any of the consciousness within it, millions of years, enduring, changing. Existing amongst the stars in the galaxy.
Sawamura Eijun was a pretty straightforward, curious, kid. Just as any of his peers. When his grandfather took him to see a planetarium, his eyes shone with curiosity as if they were stars in the galaxy. The way he smiled was so bright as if he was the sun incarnation himself. Just like kids around his age, Sawamura Eijun smiled at his grandfather, “Gramps, the universe is so vast. It must be fun to explore.”
And at that time, his grandfather only took a brief look at him and grinned, “Yes, yes it is.” He crouched down to the kid’s level, “You see, among this vast universe, for me to be in a world where I have a grandson as cheeky as you, it must have been fate. We have a special connection to fate, after all.”
Their family talked as if the world they were living in was not absolute. As if there were other places where everything was not…, well, the same. As if there were other worlds where Sawamura Eitoku was not Sawamura Eijun’s grandfather, or perhaps, the other way around.
As if there were a world where, perhaps, Sawamura Eijun was not a baseball idiot.
Which is impossible.
Because even as a kid, even when he was invested in how the universe works, or perhaps this 'fate' his grandpa keeps talking about, it couldn’t beat his interest in baseball. Grandpa took him to a lot of places, and the one that changed the trajectory of his life was a visit in the heat of the summer sun’s gaze. They were not as grand as the planetarium he was brought to before, not as pretty as the miniature stars amongst the artificial sky. And yet, Eijun decided that instead of being an astronaut as he wished before, he wanted to be playing on that diamond-shaped field.
Perhaps it was the way the player stood on the mound as if the summer heat was beneath him. Or maybe the way he cheered along with his teammates and the audience as they made a fine play. Or maybe, it was the sound of the ball hitting the mitt and the grin the player—pitcher, Grandpa says—threw at his partner.
Little Eijun, felt something within him clicked. He looked at his grandpa, who seemed to find something within his eyes, and his grandpa smiled, the way he smiled when he talked about fate. Little Eijun didn’t understand, but perhaps, it was fated after all.
***
To Wakana’s confusion, Eijun, whom she knew ever since they were in diapers, suddenly stopped talking about the stars. (And his dream of exploring the universe). Instead, he showed up one day in summer, with a baseball and goofy grin he always had, excitedly dragging her out to the nearest field. Her childhood friend wears his heart on his sleeve. When he asked her to play catch with him, when she caught the ball he threw (after so many errors), and when he smiled so brightly, she decided that she wanted to see him, with this passion, standing on a big-big diamond-shaped field.
The problem: Nagano, particularly the area where they lived, was not a nice place to start a baseball career. The elementary school they were in didn’t have a baseball club. And Akagi, despite the good baseball companion—friends—Eijun had, was not enough to let her childhood friend shine. So when he told her of the invitation to Seido, she assured him to take it.
***
The universe worked in a complicated way. Eijun thought that playing with his team back in Nagano was the only thing he ever wanted. Was his fate. He didn’t expect much coming to Seido and didn’t even plan to take the invitation at all.
Until he met Miyuki Kazuya.
The way the bespectacled catcher tapped his mitt on Eijun’s chest, “Let’s go slay some monsters, eh, partner?”
Until he heard the sound of balls hitting the mitt.
(And saw the grin behind the catcher mask.)
As if he were back to being a kid, Eijun felt something tug at his heart string as the sound echoed, resonated within his chest. The same feeling as when he was little, watching a baseball match with his grandpa. It was the same sound, just like that one pitch that made him a baseball player in the first place. The feeling of want flooded his chest. He wanted to play with this guy, to climb to the top together. Eijun took a look at his battery partner, grinning, perhaps this was also fated.
(Sawamura Eijun was grateful, that amongst the vast universe, he lived in one where he got to meet Miyuki Kazuya.)
***
The journey he had at Seido was, by no means, an easy one. Doubts and hurts seeped into his very being, shaping him into what he was now. And that includes the loss the team experienced in his first year in the summer tournament. The despair on his senpais’ faces, the tears they spilled as the three years of their hard work settled by just a single moment, and the disappointment he endured (most of all, the disappointment he had for himself). Though, the moment he truly felt like he had hit rock bottom, was when he heard that dreaded sentence, “Sawamura, you have the yips.”
It was like everything tumbled down after that—after being pulled from the mound—and he was desperately seeking a lifeline to hold on to (but he found none, not even from the person who had become his reason to pursue baseball all the way here). And for the first time in his life, he questioned. Maybe, just, maybe, his fate was wrong after all. (And if all these hurts were also a part of his destiny, then perhaps, the universe was cruel.)
Nevertheless, Eijun, albeit his belief in destiny, was not the type to take everything the universe threw at him laying down after all. So he fought, tooth and nail, to get back up. To climb, to be deserving of the ‘Ace’ title. And he made it. Because in his second year, on the last opportunity to form a battery with Miyuki Kazuya, Seido, for the first time in years, managed to reach finals in Summer Koshien, making it their longest summer.
Eijun took a deep breath. The blazing sun, and the wave of summer heat beating into his skin, a contrast to the cold sweat he felt falling from his temple. It was the bottom of the ninth inning, against Komadai Fujimaki. The score tauntingly glared from the board, 5-4 in Seido’s favor. This might just be the last formal game he would be able to play with Miyuki Kazuya—the last game he would play with Kuramochi, Shirasu, Maezono, Nori, and others. Because after all this ends, life will go on. And there is the probability that all their path would not even intersect in the future.
Faintly, he could hear his teammates’ chain of shouts, “Two outs!” Their voices felt so far away, it was as if he was being dragged to the bottom of the ocean, shackled by the burning number on his back, ‘1’. Shackled by memories of moments far away, on the exclamation of ‘dead ball’, on the despair his senpai felt just a year ago.
Everything felt muffled. His limbs were numb. All he could hear was the hammering of his heart, painfully beating.
He took a deep breath, somehow, accidentally caught the eye of a runner on the first base. Despite how hot the sun was glaring on the field, it couldn’t melt the phantom ice-cold feeling nestled within his ribcage. This is his last pitch. His gaze strayed to the batter (the cleanup), then fell to meet a pair of amber from behind the home plate. And somehow, somehow, it reminded him exactly just how much he love baseball, despite all the shackles holding him down, despite the rush of water assaulting his senses.
“Let us go slay some monsters, eh, partner?”
The next moment was a blur. He didn’t remember what grip he had, he didn’t remember the trajectory of his last pitch or even his windup. The only thing he remembered was the loud sound echoing throughout the silent stadium. The sound that resonated within his heart, was exactly the same as the pitch he threw once upon a time. The sound that changed the trajectory of his life.
“Strike! Batter out!”
He didn’t remember. All that he can comprehend was how his senpai all crowding the mound. He could hear their cheers, he could see the tears they shed, he could feel the arms hugging him and hands ruffling his hair. It was as if he was truly freed from the shackles, finally raising to the surface of the ocean. Before he knew it, his eyes went blurry as he felt wetness trail down his cheek. He felt faint aching on his cheeks and realized that he had been grinning all along.
Somehow, instead of feeling burned, the sun was warm on his skin—as warm as he felt inside. Instinctively, his eyes searched for a pair of amber, and there the figure he was looking for was, so close to him. Miyuki Kazuya was smiling, no, grinning, his eyes looked so bright—Eijun realized that they were somewhat glassy. The next thing he felt, stronger-warmer- than all the pats he received from his teammates, was a bump. A fist bump from none other than Miyuki Kazuya.
“It was the best artwork, partner.”
(“The best pitches are an artwork created by a pitcher and catcher as one!”)
The answer comes naturally to him like there could not be other words to say to his catcher. His eyes closed as his grin brightens, Eijun could feel his tears dripping down as he bumped his fist into Miyuki’s chest—still covered in catcher’s gear. “Thanks! I was only throwing watching to your mitt!”
The atmosphere was broken by a rough ruffling on his head, to the point that he had to bend to accommodate the pressure, “Sa-wa-mu-ra! You little shit! Do you even understand what you have done?!” It was Kuramochi. Eijun couldn’t see his roommate’s face, but he could hear sniffling, “The best in Japan high school! Us! We won the whole Koshien! Why are you so quiet, damnit, it makes me look like an idiot howling like crazy!”
As if he were being waked from a stupor, it finally really hit Eijun what just happened in the past ten minutes. (It hits with the force of a raging Shinkansen) And he really just couldn’t stop his shout, “OSH!!! Senpai, we won! We won!”
“Took you long enough to realize, dumbass!”
It did took him long enough. Only now that he heard the roar of the whole stadium, the way his teammates were crying in the stands—tears of happiness, mind you—he felt immeasurable happiness. And with a burst of bravery he didn’t know he had, once again he caught the eyes of his battery partner—
—and jumped to him. Wrapping his arms around the catcher’s neck, “We won!”
Faintly he could feel a hand on his waist. Faintly he could feel his teammates joining in for a group hug, with him and Miyuki as the center. From his position, he could see even the stoic Furuya was grinning as he was dragged by Zono-senpai for the hug. Just like a summer dream. Except that it was no longer a dream, for they had made it into reality.
Suddenly he felt the pain, the humiliation, the doubts, and the longing he had endured was worth it.
By the time they made it back to their hotel, the exhaustion of playing the finals (and all games they had on Koshien, really), finally caught up to them. It was funny that they didn’t even have the energy to party more, finally relishing the burden of playing on the national stage being lifted from their shoulder without the cost of regrets. After a lighthearted dinner with the usual baseball-club-style joke being thrown here and there, everyone goes to their own rooms to finally enjoy the breaks they deserved—because up until now, every night they had was spent swinging bat, or even practicing pitching and fielding. The coaches had nothing to protest either, they didn’t tell the kids to watch their match’s recording, letting them all rest for once. Maybe it was also one way to reward their hard work.
“Sawamura, you’re not going back to our room?” From the end of the hallway, Kuramochi called out to his kouhai, waving the room card over his head.
Eijun shook his head like a little dog, “No, I want to run for a bit.”
“You can take a rest for a night you know, Mr. Ace?” The shortstop looked at his roommate for a little while before sighing, “Right, fine, just don’t take it too far.”
“Yes, yes, I know. See you later, Cheetah-senpai!” Eijun immediately ran to the other end of the hallway, cackling, ignoring his senpai’s shouting.
Yet as soon as he felt the breeze of the night caressing his face, he took a deep breath, letting the goofy grin slip from his face. That was it. Their final match. Done. Now the third year can retire on high notes. That being said, somehow, there’s part of him that felt unhappy. Like he was reluctant to let this all end. For the next game he would play in high school, he would have no one to be called senpai anymore. No Shirasu-senpai’s quiet and dependable play, no Maezono-senpai and his passionate batting, no Nori-senpai and his reliable pitches, no Kuramochi-senpai’s terrifying base steal and his crazy wrestling moves—and rambunctious game nights, and really, no senpais at all. The win was amazing, and he had no regrets about the tournament, but as the euphoria cools down, every bite of his dinner felt harder to swallow than usual despite the fact that he was no longer a first-year struggling to finish three bowls of rice.
Because next year, there would be no Miyuki-senpai to catch his pitches, calling him “partner”. No Miyuki-senpai who would get on his nerves with his tanuki-like demeanor, or the senpai who would join forces with the team’s cheetah to tease the hell out of Eijun. No Miyuki-senpai who is the whole reason he’s here in the first place.
A new page of their lives will start, and for once, Eijun thought that the ‘future’ he never spent time dwelling upon, was approaching far too fast, leaving him no time to even breathe. It was a future he had never spent time to imagine, where all the familiarity he had ever since he came to Seido ended. The third-year all will trudge on their own path, perhaps it will differ from one another, or perhaps it would be a path close to or even intersecting one another. And next year, it would be his turn, deciding on what path to take, deciding his fate.
The summer felt as hot and familiar as ever, and yet, something about this summer felt terrifying—different.
“I heard from Mochi that our Mr. Ace still does his run drill on this special occasion.”
It was such a familiar voice, the one he heard every day. The one he heard before pitching, the voice he trusted the most as he stood on the mound. The first time Eijun focused on when he heard the familiar voice with a familiar teasing lilt, was the glare of black-rimmed glasses iconic to the starting catcher. Miyuki Kazuya, just a few steps away, walked towards him with his hands leisurely resting in his pants pockets. Wearing a plain black shirt, and sporting a tilted white cap—the same style as when Eijun first landed eyes upon him in his final year of middle school. The catcher was obviously bulkier compared to that time, thanks to all the batting practice, perhaps. And now, Eijun finally realized that he had stopped running at some point as he was lost in his thought.
With an exaggerated huff (and accidentally sporting his usual peeved cat-eye he had whenever he was flustered), Eijun pointed at the intruder, “Miyuki Kazuya! What are you doing here?!”
The figure obnoxiously ignored the not-so-subtle questioning and closed into the pitcher, slinging his arms around Eijun’s shoulder, like he usually does when he was in one of his evil-conspiring moods. “What? Now this poor old me taking a walk is also deemed suspicious? I’m hurt.”
Of course, Eijun would never buy his words, far too used to the catcher’s teasing. At least, never when the way his tone was so sweet, dripping with saccharine—hiding the bite of poison underneath. “Don’t think I would believe you, you damn Tanuki!”
Miyuki laughed hard, his usual shit-eating laugh, the one he had every time he was doing an evil deed. In Eijun’s mind, that laughter’s level of terrifyingness comes second only to Ryousuke’s calm, evil laugh. It took several torturing seconds (that was enough to turn Eijun’s face red), for him to stop—well, to wheeze before stopping.
Wiping a fake tear from his eye, Miyuki faced him, face close, arms still around Eijun’s shoulder. Their gazes immediately met, because Eijun was already looking at him (still cat-eyed) the whole time he laughed. But this time, the catcher stared at him with an indecipherable gaze, oddly serious, contrasting the teasing mood he had just a few moments earlier, it caught Eijun off-guard.
Betraying none of his expression, Miyuki asked steadily, just like when he was briefing the team for the play. “Actually, care to share your worry?”
“What worry?” Instinctively, Eijun averted his eyes, unable to hold Miyuki’s intense gaze. “This Sawamura Eijun is as carefree as a piece of log, so Cap must not think too much about this lowly one and just enjoy his victory. HAHAHA.”
“You know,” The catcher looked at him with a lopsided smile, “You’re such a terrible liar.”
It made Eijun huff, “Who said I was lying?!”
It was unusual, Miyuki Kazuya didn’t answer him with another sass. Instead, as his smirk fell from his face, replaced by a stern expression Eijun usually saw on the field whenever his pitchers are not performing well. The air became a little bit too hot. His skin felt like it was being pricked by thousands of invisible needles. The bespectacled catcher started, “Sawamura.” His tone was heavy, and low, a contrast to the usual airy one he had whenever he was teasing the hell out of baseball club. Betraying none of his expression. “I am still your captain, you know. And, maybe a battery partner, at least until this night’s end.”
It made Eijun stiffen.
Until this night’s end. “Then what about the day after?”
He didn’t know why Miyuki looks so taken aback. “Well, don’t we have Wolf Boy around? And perhaps more catchers who would join the team, we won Koshien after all—”
Eijun couldn’t hear what his senpai was saying. His mind was muddled, unable to tear itself from the vine of thought he didn’t even know the purpose of. As if the arm around his shoulder was covered in poison, Eijun instinctively tried to shrug it off—to no avail. It seemed that he underestimated Miyuki’s arm strength—this guy can hit a homer, Eijun reminded himself (and actually had the capacity to become a pitcher if he so desired).
(If the fact that Eijun actually didn’t mind the shoulder hug as much as he acted also contributed to the reason for his inability to shrug off the catcher, then there was no need for Miyuki to know.)
In the end, though, knowing he couldn’t run, Eijun reluctantly make a tactical retreat. A tactical retreat! Not that he surrendered! He would strike back as soon as chance(s) falls to his lap, thank you. Well, though he named it a tactical retreat, the only thing he did was stand so still he could be mistaken as a stone statue, really. Hoping that whatever Miyuki said earlier didn’t end with a question just so he could implement this one tactic Wakana taught him one upon a time, “Just smile and nod, Eijun!” –which Eijun never seemed to be able to follow, by the way.
But of course, the universe would never let him have it. Why, what he met was Miyuki’s expectant face. As if Eijun was supposed to respond in some way or another. Internally, Eijun was screaming: would ‘Smile and nod’ work? Yet, Miyuki doesn’t seem so keen on letting him think any longer. The catcher raised an eyebrow, unintentionally (or maybe intentionally—because you would never know, it’s Miyuki Kazuya) adding a ton of pressure for Eijun. To hell with it, since when did Eijun think before speaking anyway!?
“Uh,” The pitcher started, “What?”
“Seriously?”
They stared at each other for some heartbeats, before Miyuki sighed and let go of Eijun’s shoulder. He opted to lean on a tree, crossing his arms, “Was it that?”
“Was it what?”
“You were thinking about stupid things, weren’t you? Like, the future, us third years graduating? Things like that? Mochi said you’ve been sulking, like stupid.”
“It’s not stupid!”
The way Miyuki went silent as he stared so intensely at Eijun made the pitcher shift in his foot, leaning on his right leg, then left, and so on. Looking so uncomfortable he might as well spill everything he was feeling right then.
“So you were indeed worrying about that,” Miyuki’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You were never the type to think about those things, why so suddenly?” This time, his voice was louder, sounded more casual.
“I’m also human, you know, even though I am a baseball idiot. I may not be good at thinking, or scheming like you, but I can still feel.” Eijun didn’t even know why he was telling Miyuki all this, “You and the senpai were there with me for two years, we play baseball together for two years.” And also watch him grow as a player, encouraging him on the field, and teaching him that reliable teammates are defending behind as he pitched. That he was not playing alone.
It was those people who taught him how it feels like, playing baseball with people just as passionate as him. The journey that had shaped him into who he was today.
Eijun didn’t spill all his thought, of course, but Miyuki could hear him all the same. If Eijun was not imagining things, he could swear the captain’s face softened. For some moments, they lapsed into silence. Just as Eijun was about to regret being a loudmouth, spilling his heart like that—
“I’m going pro.”
The words had almost nothing to do with what Eijun said earlier, and yet, pair of golden eyes widened under the street lamp. It was a familiar sentence, one he had accidentally overheard one night. He wasn’t expecting Miyuki to talk about this with him.
“That’s …, good?”
“What kind of reaction is that, Sawamoron?”
“How else was I supposed to?!”
Miyuki seemed to ignore his outburst, “I want to keep playing baseball, see the world beyond this. There would be so many good players to play with, still a lot to learn,” He pinned his gaze to meet pair of golden eyes that seemed to sparkle somehow, “Sawamura.”
The addressed boy could only squeak a response, “Yes?”
“This is only the beginning.”
Ah, this guy is seriously amazing. Eijun really wants to catch up to him, to stand on equal grounds. To make this person acknowledge him. With only a few sentences, he set a new sight for Eijun to see, a new goal for him to reach.
Those sentences may not mean much, for the fact that they would all go on with their own life was still very much present. But to Eijun, those words sound like a promise, about the uncertain future—that there still is a glimpse of certainty in the vast possibility of the uncharted territory.
I’m going pro, this is only the beginning.
To Eijun, Miyuki was pretty much reassuring him, that no matter what the future holds, there is one thing that would never change: he would still choose baseball—he would still play. So as long as Eijun keeps on playing baseball, their path would—some time far-far away in the future—intersect.
When their gaze met once again, what Eijun see was Miyuki smiling. It was not the usual sarcastic smile or his dumb Tanuki-like grin. It looked like whatever he saw in Eijun’s eyes bathed him in delight and assurance. “I’ll be waiting.”
“You won’t be waiting long, then! HAHAHA, good luck with your nasty personality though, Cap!”
“You little shit-“
As they banter all night long, Eijun couldn’t help but think that perhaps, this was also fated.
***
It was a year after that night’s talk with Miyuki. Also, one whole year since he heard from his senpai. Well, they do chat by email sometimes, but it was universally known that Miyuki, despite still being a guy in his youth, was not an easy person to contact. He didn’t even have Line, damn.
One year since that day, and exactly three days since the 91st Summer Koshien ended. Seido, once again, reached the final stage of Summer Koshien. Yet this time, they lost to Komadai Fujimaki by one run. As if the universe was playing with them—since last year Seido was the one who won by one run instead. It was due to a fielding error, but what was done was done. They had no regret, for they had played their best. That didn’t stop them from crying and sulking for the rest of their ride to the hotel though.
The positive side was their senpai (except Miyuki. Of course it’s Miyuki) came to watch the match. Eijun, after spending his time free of the threat of raging cheetah tackling him over nothing for one whole year, finally reexperienced the whole ordeal. (He was actually glad to see his Cheetah-senpai again, despite being wrestled still, but he would sooner be six feet under than admit that). Through the whole frustration, their senpai all reassured them that it was a game well played. They were just lacking, a little bit, in the luck department.
Well, once again, that was that. It was time to move on.
Eijun, contrary to what people would expect, chose to go to university. Well, to be fair, it was one of the Big 6. Though, not the same as Miyuki and Kuramochi’s, apparently (that means he had to face them someday in one of the Big 6 games).
Another pleasing surprise he had, aside from his senpais visit during the Final, was a chat. A recent one. Just a few seconds ago. Precisely, it was a Line chat. From Miyuki Kazuya. Eijun, who was having breakfast with Furuya and Haruichi, accidentally choked on his miso soup. Earning Haruichi’s attention (not in a good way), which, Eijun didn’t care and shouted his name anyway, “Harucchi!”
“I am sitting in front of you.”
“Harucchi! We must prepare for a rainstorm tomorrow!” Hurriedly, the golden-eyed pitcher whisper-shouted.
Through all the chaos, Haruichi raised an eyebrow, far too used to his friend’s enthusiasm at this point, “And why is that?”
Dramatically, Eijun presented his phone to the Kominato with both hands, “You see, Miyuki Kazuya chatted me via Line!”
Now, that even caught Furuya’s attention. Miraculously, the black-haired boy woke up from his nap to look at Eijun, then Haruichi, then Eijun’s phone, then back to Eijun. He looked like he was watching one of the world’s miracles.
“Are you sure you’re not mistaken? Really? That Miyuki-senpai?”
“Apparently,” Haruichi who had snatched Eijun’s phone at some point started, “He was not mistaken. It is legit Miyuki-senpai.”
Eijun eyed his friend suspiciously, “And how would you know?”
Suddenly, Haruichi put Eijun’s phone back on the table swiftly, looking at him with a gaze not dissimilar to certain pink-haired alumni. “I have my way,” His smile was as sweet as saccharine (as fake as it too).
“So, what did Miyuki-senpai say?” Furuya, still curious, leaned to Eijun’s phone.
“He asked Eijun to meet up for lunch.”
“Really?” Eijun’s eyes widened in shock, snatching his phone back to probably read the chat himself.
With his signature deadpan expression, Furuya sighed tiredly, “Huh. Why are you the one who’s shocked?”
—which was ignored by Eijun in favor of panicking in his seat, furiously tapping his response with record speed. Hurriedly, he shoveled his breakfast like there was no tomorrow. Of course, Haruichi enjoyed the spectacle, pair of eyes glinting eerily in amusement. As Eijun was about to leave their table, he called, “Do you know where that café is?”
Ah. That stopped Eijun on his track.
“Figured,” The pink-haired second baseman leaned on the table leisurely, chin resting on his palm. “I can show you the way, don’t worry, I will sit a few tables away.”
“Oh, I’ll join you too.”
.
That was how they end up stranded in the town’s park with Furuya melting like an ice cream under the summer heat. Everything was going smoothly, until Eijun, with his short attention span, proceeded to ride the wrong train and got separated from both Haruichi and Furuya. They spent almost two hours looking for each other like shiba inu trying to see its tail, before finally meeting in this park. Eijun, of course, received an earful from Haruichi, who by the time they reunited, was supporting a lifeless Furuya.
“Is the café still far? We’re almost running late!”
“We are already late by one minute and thirty-three seconds,” Haruichi corrected him with his dark-Harucchi expression, “And whose fault was that?”
Those successfully shut Eijun up, making him look like a cat being stroked the wrong way with the way he went cat-eyed, unable to retaliate.
“Anyway, the café is just across the street,” Tugging on the unresponsive Furuya’s arm, Haruichi proceeded to walk to cross the street. The lamp was still red, so the three of them ended up waiting there.
From where he stood, Eijun could see the café he was supposed to be meeting Miyuki in. It was a pretty decent café, with large windows. The interior looked like it was dominated by woods and plants, pretty cozy looking. A customer was sitting at a table right by the window, wearing a black T-shirt and long white pants. The customer had brown hair, and a pair of glasses, and he looks familiar.
Huh. “Miyuki Kazuya!” Instinctively, Eijun pointed at the customer.
Somehow, his gesture caught the attention of the customer, who then looked straight at him. It was indeed Miyuki Kazuya. He looked bulkier than Eijun last remember from their high school days, his shoulder broader too. Miyuki’s eyes lit up in recognition upon seeing Eijun, raising his hand a bit and grinning like the Tanuki he was.
“Oh, it’s Miyuki-senpai.” Furuya, who also recognized Miyuki’s presence joined Eijun, waving his hand—albeit with a notably less enthusiasm.
The light turned green. Eijun immediately jogged to the café, leaving a tired Haruichi and Furuya who was still being tugged by the pink-haired behind. Of course, he was excited, he finally would meet with the person he goes to Seido for after one way of no face-to-face anyway. To be fair, Miyuki also looked amused, judging from his dumb smirk from behind the window.
Until he was not.
Suddenly, there was a terror on Miyuki’s face as he abruptly stood up from his seat, shouting something Eijun couldn’t hear. No. That kind of expression looks wrong on Miyuki Kazuya whom Eijun knows. He should never look like that.
Between those moments, he could faintly hear Haruichi and Furuya (Furuya?) shouting his name. Just right before a loud crash exploded in his ears, just right before tremendous pain erupted from his body.
Eijun could feel the world spinning, could feel his bones breaking under an unstoppable force. Everything was so painful to the point all he could feel was numbness. His ears ringing that he could hear nothing. Somehow, this feeling of detachment reminded him of how he felt when he stood on the mound during the final, throwing his last pitch. Except, he know that now, there was likely no chance for him to break through the surface to breathe.
(As Eijun tried to open his eyes, everything was blurry. But somehow, he could see a pink, black, and brown blur. Huh.)
Though the only thing he could clearly see was the blue sky. Even as he slowly lose his breath, he could still see the cloudless summer sky. A perfect sky to play baseball under. Suddenly, all he could see was old memories, of him and his grandfather watching a baseball match. Of him hearing the sound of a baseball hitting the mitt for the first time. Of him striking out Azuma in his last year of middle school. Of Miyuki Kazuya calling him ‘partner’. Of the loss of his first summer Koshien. Everything. Until everything molded back into a blue, blurry summer sky. Yet the blue slowly faded to black as Eijun felt that his eyes were too heavy.
He could tell this would be the end. Everything was black. Like when he was a kid, in a planetarium, gazing at the artificial stars in the fake sky as his grandfather talked about the universe and fate. Eijun could see no stars now. Ah, perhaps just like his life as a baseball player, just like his meeting with Miyuki, just like all the journey he went through, this was also fated. He was glad to be able to live as he was until this point. Yet, somehow, he thought that fate was cruel, giving him hope for the future only to take it away. Eijun remembered the blue sky and the smile. And the feeling of injustice burning in his chest hurts more than the physical pain he was feeling. He didn’t want to die.
Maybe, just maybe, it would be nice If he could change his fate after all.