Chapter Text
The door clicked softly behind Miyuki as he left his dorm room, leaving Eijun twisted up within the blankets of his bed, alone. The pitcher was so fast asleep that he hardly moved when Miyuki had freed himself from their tangled limbs. The catcher stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stepped off the bottom step and headed toward the dorm entrance, needing to escape the enclosed spaces he’d gotten so used to. Seido had become his home over the past nearly two years, it was familiar, comforting... But, right now it only reminded him of the stresses currently enveloping his tired brain.
The ending to his second year was rapidly coming to a close and he wasn’t oblivious to what exactly that meant. It meant that finals were slowly creeping up on him, entrance exams swimming in the back on his mind as he searched for the perfect school. It meant he only had a little over half a year left of high school baseball. A half a year left to help the team grow stronger, to lead them to summer koshien. It meant that he had half a year left to be Sawamura’s battery partner... A half a year left until he had to leave his boyfriend at Seido while he went away to college.
Wrapped up in Sawamura’s arms was when he usually felt the most at ease but his head was swimming as the stress pounded throughout his head. He just needed fresh air, he needed to clear his muddled brain and right now Sawamura only reminded him of the impending sadness they’d both have to face sooner or later.
Sawamura Eijun. A heavy sigh slipped past Miyuki’s lips as he wandered aimlessly toward the edge of the campus, not quite sure where he was headed but had decided it didn’t matter. His thoughts clouded with the knowledge that Eijun hadn’t yet realized what would happen once the year came to an end and the new year began. The younger boy was so surrounded by sunshine and smiles, so encapsulated within his own optimism that he was oblivious to the reality of what Miyuki’s third year would mean for them... What it would mean for them as both a battery and as a romantic partnership. Not that it would mean the end of their relationship by any means, after all, he couldn’t imagine his life in any way without the younger boy by his side. However, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t miss the southpaw once he’d leave for university.
His stomach did a flip before it tied itself up with knots, causing bile to rise within his throat as a wave of nausea crept up on him. He stopped walking for a moment, his hands on his knees as he hunched over, taking deep breaths as he forced back the panic that was trying to swallow him. Blood pounded in his ears with each heavy beat of his heart and he continued to breathe slowly, taking in the cool night air to calm himself with each intake of breath. His knuckles whitened as he fisted the fabric of his sweatpants, his grip only easing once the thudding in his ears subsided.
The catcher let out a shaky breath once he was certain he’d suppressed the panic attack that had been threatening to over take him. He didn’t want to think about leaving Eijun anymore. He didn’t want to think about finals or entrance exams or the hours of studying he would be putting in. He didn’t want to think about their last game, win or lose, he didn’t want to think about never being able to play baseball with Eijun again on a real team.
Miyuki shook his head, lifting his feet again to resume his aimless wandering. The cool air licking at his skin brought him a sort of comfort, reminding him that in this moment, those were not his circumstances. He still had some time left and he knew he couldn’t completely ignore the reality of the future but he also couldn’t allow it to consume him. He needed to enjoy what time he had left, to make the most of it and he wouldn’t be able to do that if he was engulfed within his own worries and stress. He needed to be strong for the team, for Eijun. He wanted to lead the team to koshien, he wanted to win, to run to the mound and pick Eijun up as they wallowed in victory. He wanted to end his high school baseball career in the best way possible, for not only his sake, but mostly for Sawamura’s.
The catcher soon found himself having wandered far off the campus in an area of town he didn’t quite recognize. Glancing around him, the streets were eerily empty and the over all atmosphere replaced his earlier stress with discomfort and general unease. His feet carried him past a dark alleyway, his whole mind screaming at him to turn back around, to go back to the school but by the time he did, he found himself face to face with the exact thing he’d least wanted to deal with.
Two men stood before him, both taller than him and far more menacing than he ever could be. The taller of the two stood with his head cocked, dark brown hair sticking up messily and a wicked grin that adorned his rough features to reveal a set of gnashed teeth. The man next to him was shorter but only slightly and stood with his arms crossed, brows furrowed angrily as if Miyuki had done something to personally offend him.
As the shorter of the two opened his mouth to speak, Miyuki noticed the yellowed hue to the teeth that weren’t currently missing and cringed. “You look lost, kid,” he said, his voice raspy and harsh as if his throat didn’t quite work properly. The men didn’t seem to be terribly old, maybe in their mid to late twenties but they were certainly roughed up enough to be older than that.
Miyuki swallowed the unease that was threatening to bubble over within him. Maybe if he just stayed calm, acted as though he wasn’t to be messed with, these men would leave him alone and he could return to the dorms and crawl back into bed with Sawamura. “And, you look like you need some directions to a shower,” he said snarkily, trying a little too hard to add some edge to his usual tone.
The taller man barked out laughing while his buddy scowled, showing his rancid teeth again. “I don’t really appreciate the attitude, kid. Just give us your money and we’ll be on our way, got it?”
The two men had begun to close in on Miyuki and he found himself stepping into the shadows of the alleyway. Sweat dripped down the side of his face and over the curve of his jawline as he realized the position he’d found himself in: they’d trapped him. “Oi, I would but I have a sneaking suspicion you probably won’t use it for a dentist visit, eh?” he said with a grin as he tried to hurriedly brush past the two men blocking his way.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll-” he started but his words were cut off as he was roughly shoved up against the brick wall. His breath left him from the sudden impact and his head smacked against the rough surface, temporarily leaving him dazed as his vision swam.
The shorter of the two men held Miyuki by his shirt, other forearm pressed against his upper chest to pin the teenager against the wall. Several coughs escaped his throat as he tried to bring his vision back into focus, realizing the mistake he had made much too late. His focus swam back as the man flashed his rancid teeth, breath causing the boy to wince once the man began to speak. “If there’s one thing I hate, it’s smartass pretty boys like yourself. How about we wipe that pretty smirk off of your face? What do you say, Manato?”
Miyuki opened his mouth to speak before his body was ripped away from the wall by the front of his shirt. The goon before him swung his arm around, releasing the catcher and sending him off balance as he fell heavily to the ground, elbow scraping painfully along the rough pavement. The teenager ignored the freshly bleeding wound, scrambling to pick himself up off the ground as the two men advanced upon him. His eyes widened as he watched the taller of the men rear his leg back, sending a gut wrenching kick to Miyuki’s stomach as he was too slow to regain his footing. The boy rolled with the impact, bile rising in his throat from the sharp pain ringing throughout his torso.
As his body came to a stop, he spit out whatever sick had gathered in his throat, fingers clutching his stomach as he gasped desperately for the air that had been knocked out of him for the second time that night. Harsh coughs wracked his body, his mind racing as he tried to figure a way out of this situation... Only, he found none. His quick, calculating mind was unable to find a solution to his predicament. These men were obviously experienced with this sort of thing, the ability to fight ingrained within their muscles and they’d already easily cornered him deeper with the dark alley. Miyuki, on the other hand, wasn’t much of a fighter, he’d never really had to be.
He’d never wanted so badly to be back in bed, wrapped safely within his boyfriend’s arms.
The catcher continued his struggle for a decent breath, looking up with wide eyes as the men glowered down at him. Their smiles indicated how much they enjoyed his pain. Another spit to the side as he discarded the remaining bile, the pain receding to a bearable dull, though he knew there would certainly be a bruise in place shortly. The thugs seemed to be taunting him, giving him a chance to prop himself up as if he had some hope of fighting back. They watched dauntingly as Miyuki slowly pushed himself up to his feet, assuming a defensive stance as he held his arms in front of himself as if for protection. The men barked out their laughter at the pathetic boy in front of them, knowing full well by the sloppy stance the teenager was by no means experienced.
Miyuki took a deep breath to calm his nerves. He didn’t have to fight these men. If anything, he was probably much quicker than them, his reflexes finely tuned after years of intense training. If he could just dodge their attacks and slip around them, he could escape. It was only a matter of getting by them.
The taller man cracked his knuckles, closing in on the teen as he lunged forward, his fist swinging toward Miyuki’s face. The catcher dodged the punch, ducking low as his strong thighs allowed him to sidestep in one fluid motion. His attacker didn’t seem at all phased or impressed by his dodge as he adjusted his footing to block Miyuki from rushing past him. The two stayed in a deadlock for several more thrown punches; the older man attacked, Miyuki dodged.
However, the bigger man was beginning to catch on to Miyuki’s movements and was able to adjust his swings accordingly. He went to hook the catcher in the jaw with his left hand but as the teenager side stepped, he entered the path of the man’s other fist, knuckles connecting with the soft flesh of Miyuki’s cheek as he was sent stumbling backwards. How he managed to stay on his feet, he wasn’t sure but his brows furrowed as he reached up and wiped the blood away that was dripping down the corner of his mouth. Pain radiated outward from the blow to his face but he ignored it, hocking up a glob of blood that had accumulated within his saliva.
The older man barely gave Miyuki time to recover as he was upon him again, delivering blows much more frequently but the catcher also managed to sneak in a few of his own. Several minutes ticked by, Miyuki’s body was growing stiff from the multitude of bruises accumulating on his body. He dragged his hand across his lower face, the blood dripping from his nose and smearing across his cheek. His breath came in quick bursts but the taller man looked hardly winded, his mouth spread into a wide grin. The man behind him, however, seemed to be growing impatient as he dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out an item Miyuki had been praying he wouldn’t see.
The harsh silver metal of the switchblade glinted in the moonlight that had somehow managed to reach them within the confines of the alley. Miyuki’s heart thudded in his chest, his bruises and aches long forgotten as his eyes stayed transfixed upon the knife.
“Don’t worry about him, I’m still here, punk!” A punch to the jaw and an uppercut to his abdomen sent Miyuki sprawling to the ground, his glasses clattering to the pavement some feet away. He tried to crawl toward them, squinting through the haze of his vision before he heard the distinct sound of crunching plastic and crushed glass. His heart sank, the devastation of losing the majority of his eyesight settling withing his stomach. He could hear the crazed laughter of the man who’d been beating on him and he briefly wondered if they meant to kill him. Maybe if he’d kept his mouth shut... No. These men wanted money. They probably would have attacked him anyway once they realized he’d had nothing. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been as bad though.
The two men seemed to have stopped their relentless attack for the moment, as if curious to see what the teenager would do next out of desperation. Miyuki glanced around him, looking for something, anything, to assist him in distracting these goons long enough for him to get away. His dodging tactic was clearly having no effect and with the added threat of the knife he couldn’t afford to be careless or drag this on much longer. He scanned the dirty alleyway, eyes straining from the absence of his glasses, before something caught his attention that he could barely make out in the shadows. A small spark of hope ignited within him as he identified the object lying only a few feet away: a metal pipe.
He wasted no time; he quickly picked himself up off of the ground, steadying himself clumsily as he stumbled toward the pipe. He stooped low, his fingers enclosing around the rusty metal as he pivoted to face his attackers who regarded his batting stance, amused expressions on their faces.
“Careful, kid, don’t hurt yourself,” the taller man said with a sneer. They were obviously underestimating him at this point but... They didn’t know how Miyuki was with a bat.
The catcher stayed within his crouched position as the taller man advanced upon him, fists clenched in front of him. Miyuki took a deep breath, waiting for just the right moment... There! The older man lunged toward him and the Seido athlete jumped to the side, swinging the pipe as hard as he could manage in his current, weakened state. The metal made contact with the man’s hand, a sickening crunch resounding due to the force of the blow. The man grit his teeth as he hissed out in pain, cradling his injured hand as Miyuki grinned in triumph. He turned to make a run for it but a cry tore from his throat as he felt something sharp tear through the soft flesh of the side of his abdomen.
The other man had been upon him quickly, thrusting his blade outward in an attempt to deal a damaging blow but Miyuki had twisted his body at just the right time in his movement to make a run for it. The catcher had no time to register the pain of his new injury, adrenaline was pumping through his veins, endorphins masking the agony he was sure he should be feeling. He was given no time to recover as he felt a hand close around his throat, effectively cutting off his air supply as he felt his back slam against the rough bricks of the building wall. The ugly man with gnarled teeth tightened his fingers around Miyuki’s throat, coaxing a pained moan from between his bloodied lips as he fought for a deeper breath than he was being allowed at the moment.
Miyuki’s eyes were half lidded, trained on the blade that was rising upward and toward his face. He recoiled as he felt the cool metal being pressed against his jaw and he subconsciously tilted his head away from the impending threat. The movement only caused the blade to nick the skin of his jaw and he winced softly, the fear bubbling within him as he fought back sobs. He couldn’t die here, not like this. Would these men truly kill him right here and now?
His attacker glanced down at the pipe still clutched within Miyuki’s hand, as if the teenager were holding on like a lifeline, grasping at some kind of hope. The man scowled, dragging the flat of the blade along the curve of the catcher’s jaw, carefully, not cutting him quite yet. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, pretty boy,” he said in regards to the pipe, “or you won’t ever be able to wipe that smirk of yours off your face.” The blade moved upward, Miyuki holding back a sob as it grazed the corner of his mouth, realization sinking in to what the man meant.
Still, he held fast, his fingers tightening around his only weapon, convinced he couldn’t give in just yet.
“I’m warning you now, boy, drop it or I’ll put you in a world full of pain,” he hissed, removing the blade from Miyuki’s face and adjusting his grip. The catcher pressed his lips together, turning his head away from the rancid breath of the man leaning much too close to him. He refused to drop his weapon, fearing defenselessness more than the knife in the brute’s hand.
He realized too late he had made the wrong choice yet again.
Seeing that the teenager was clearly choosing to not yet back down, the man squeezed the boy’s throat, his eyes darting down toward the ground. He glanced back up at the catcher, his lips curving into a twisted smile as he thrust his arm downward, burying the ten centimeter blade deeply within Miyuki’s left thigh.
The tearing of sharpened metal through torn flesh and taut muscle ripped an agonized scream from Miyuki’s injured throat. His vision flashed white and before he knew what was happening he was on the ground, no memory of how he had even gotten there. White hot bolts shuddered through his shaking limb, the pain almost too great, threatening to throw him into the bowels of unconsciousness. His breath came in quick, shuddering bursts as he tried to work through the pain, his whole world consumed within the fiery depths of his own agony.
The teenager’s hands shook as he slowly pried open his aching eyes, the torment coursing through him in waves. He squinted through his hazy vision, his body jerking violently as a nasty lance of torture tore through his wrecked thigh. Nausea bubbled up within him and it took everything within himself not to twist his body and heave the contents of his stomach onto the pavement.
The knife was still buried nearly to the hilt within his thigh, the sickening crimson oozing out from between ripped flesh and glinting silver. His stomach turned over several times as he fought to suppress the foul tasting bile rising in his throat, the pain nearly pushing him over the edge. He reached outward with shaking fingers, determined that his best course of action was to remove the blade. The catcher’s limbs were trembling as he reached out toward the weapon, the fingertips of his left hand grazing against the cool metal of the hilt. Another wave of nausea swept through his core and he barely managed to keep it down, certain he was going to be sick.
The men were laughing at him and he could barely hear it through the blood pounding in his ears but it was enough to cause anger to rise within him. He pushed the pain out of his mind, zeroing in on the reality that despite being seven to eight centimeters deep in his thigh, he had a weapon. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he tightened his grip on the knife, steadying his hold with his right hand. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as he yanked the blade out of his burning flesh. He cried out as blood immediately welled up from the incision, his hand tightening around the grip of the weapon as he pressed his shaking fingers against the painful injury to slow the bleeding.
He took several breaths, none of which were deep enough due to the damage to his throat, and pushed himself upright. He was gathering the strength to stand, to use his new found weapon before he felt the crippling force of steel toed boots slam into his left hand, the pain he’d been ignoring flaring up and blossoming once again. The knife flew from his grip, skittering across the pavement and he reached for it desperately, ignoring the agony of both his thigh and hand (of which he was certain was broken).
A laugh tore from the man as he watched Miyuki cling to some delusional hope, the fantasy that maybe a small knife would somehow give him a chance. The man enjoyed feeding him the delusion, the false sense of possible hope but more than that... He enjoyed tearing it away.
“Don’t even think about it, pretty boy!” Drawing back his leg once again, he landed a blow to the teenager’s left shoulder, grinning as he heard the sickening pop followed by an agonized scream. The teenager’s body rolled with the kick, his head snapping back against the brick wall and causing the world to fade to black around him for but a few seconds.
Miyuki instinctively reached for his wounded shoulder, the sick feeling rearing its head as he felt the hard edge of his shoulder bone. His arm lay uselessly at his side, his mind absolutely blinded by the agony dealt in such quick succession. His brain pounded within his skull, the stars bursting in front of his eyes slowly fading, his head swimming through the haze the impact had created. He lay on his side, slumped against the wall as the fire pounded within is veins, telling him to get up. That it was far from over.
The boy tried to push himself into a sitting position, his heated blood running cold as his muscles froze from the sound he heard echoing throughout the frigid air. His eyes widened with shock, his heart racing with panic, the reality slicing through the fog of his injured state.
“Miyuki Kazuya!” It was Eijun’s voice.
Miyuki’s heart stopped as realization dawned on him: Eijun was going to stumble straight into danger.