Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Takako,” one of Takako’s friends—well, Kirimi was more like a close classmate to Takako, they weren’t really friends, per say—admonished. “What is this? The third confession you’ve turned down this semester? The fourth?”

Takako felt her cheeks turn red, heat rising in her face. She turned away. 

“Ah,” she said quietly. She wasn’t always eager to discuss matters like these. “Yeah.”

He had been a nice guy; he was on the soccer team so Takako had never really spoken to him. Her duties as manager kept her far too busy to mingle with anyone outside of her class and her club and Takako couldn’t, in good faith, accept his confession of love. She didn’t have the time to date anyone right now, especially because she was the only manager of her batch with no one to help shoulder her duties, and, besides, she was altogether indifferent to him. That wasn’t the right basis to start a relationship on, right? 

“One of these days you’ll have to say yes,” another classmate, Chiyo, chimed in, waving the lollipop she was licking around in vague circles. “These guys are practically falling on their knees to tell you that they like you, you know?” 

“Ha!" Kirimi said through a bark of laughter, throwing her head back. “Takako is keeping her options open…She’s smart. Are you waiting around for anyone in particular?” 

Takako uncomfortably shifted around in her seat. She played with the ends of her hair, running her fingers through the black locks in nervous ministrations. She didn’t reply.

“My bet is that it’s Yuuki-kun! He’s on baseball team with her. Right, Takako?”

“Look at her! She’s blushing! Kirimi-chan, you must be right!”

“N-No!” Takako exclaimed, waving her hands wildly in denial. 

“You can be honest with us, Takako!” said Kirimi. “Yuuki-kun is a catch.”

“No, I—“ It was then that Takako glanced over at the clock hanging above the chalkboard. She stood up, all of the sudden, and grabbed her schoolbag, clutching the strap tightly in her hands. “Oh my gosh, I'm late for practice!”

Chiyo let out a breathy sigh, rolling her eyes. 

“You’re so diligent, Takako,” she said, drawling out her words. 

Kirimi smirked mischievously, snorting a little when she said, “It’s ‘cuz she wants to see Yuuki-kun so badly!”

Takako didn’t stick around to hear what Chiyo said in return, only heard the sounds of their giggles as she raced out of the classroom. In truth, Takako didn’t like Yuuki in that way and she couldn’t see why Kirimi and Chiyo would even think that. In fact, she was still a bit shy around most of the boys in her batch, despite it being the end of summer. They were all nice to her and, of course, she was nice in return but they were all so staunchly focused on their strict goals—getting to the first string, playing in games, becoming a starter—that she felt she could only respond in kind. Takako admired their conviction and it only felt fair to return the same emotions to them that they gave to the team: dedication, diligence, hard work. Romance didn’t fit into that. Love was not even remotely on her mind. She—

Halfway down the hallway, Takako skidded to a stop. She unzipped her backpack and realized that she had forgotten her notebook—the one she used to keep track of the team’s progress. 

She turned and started to walk back to the classroom. 

As she approached the half-slid door, she could hear Kirimi and Chiyo still chatting. She reached for the handle, fingers hovering over it, and was about to slide it open all the way when her body froze. She heard Chiyo say her name. They were speaking about her. 

“She’s sort of stuck-up, don’t you think?” Chiyo said, absently sucking on her lollipop.

Kirimi considered this for a second before shrugging her shoulders and saying, “No, I wouldn’t say that. She’s definitely odd, though. I mean, like, Ichinose-kun is a hottie. And he’s on the soccer team! Why would she turn him down like that? It’s weird.” 

Chiyo nodded emphatically in agreement. 

“Right?” she said before letting out a groan and throwing her head back. “God, what a waste! That girl needs to get a boyfriend before all the good guys in our grade get their hearts broken by her! She’s taking all of them away from the rest of us!” 

Takako let out a shuddery breath that she hadn’t known she was keeping in. She took a step back, letting her hand fall to her side. She was weird? For not having a boyfriend? A nameless guilt and sadness washed over Takako as she began to walk away, each step she took feeling uncertain and shaky. 

I’ll just take baseball notes in my school notebook today, she thought as she made her way to the Seidou baseball grounds. 

For the next couple of days, the words that Takako overheard Kirimi and Chiyo say about her seemed to follow her like a dark cloud, casting its shadow over her. She felt insecure in a way that she never had before. Takako supposed that she always knew was…different, maybe, in the way that she approached love but she’d never heard it vocalized so plainly before. 

As she made her way to the library during lunch on an unassuming Thursday, she thought back to all the times she’d liked boys in her life. There was Tanaka-kun in elementary school but she supposed she only really liked him because all of her friends also did, at the time. And there was Sato-kun but her “crush” really only lasted a day and nothing ever came of it. 

Maybe she really was weird. Maybe she was being too picky and she should just settle for someone so the girls in her grade wouldn’t resent her any further. 

Takako entered the library. She was looking for a book on scorekeeping. She wasn’t very good at it yet and one of her senpai, the manager for the current second years, advised her that it would be a good skill to have. 

She wandered through the aisles for a bit, searching for the sports section and, when she found it, she realized that it was on the highest shelf. Dismayed, she reached for it on her tip-toes, straining her arm as far as it would humanly allowed. 

“Need help?” a voice asked, just as the tips of her fingers grazed the bottom of the book’s spine. 

She looked over. 

“Isashiki-kun!” she exclaimed. 

Isashiki Jun was the rowdiest first year on the team. He was incredibly brash and he had both ambitions higher than anyone else as well as the audacity to step out of line during introductions on the very first day, challenging anyone he saw as competition. Recently, after their loss at the Summer Tournament and the retirement of the third years, Isashiki had been told to focus on his qualities as a fielder rather than a pitcher, which had put him in a little bit of a slump as of late. Takako—despite his rough qualities and his quick temper—was actually quite endeared by him. Out of all the boys in her batch, she felt that she knew Isashiki the best. She found it funny, in fact, when she always had to wake him up during the lessons, poking on his back with the bottom of her pencil. He had shaggy auburn hair that spilled onto the nape of his neck and high cheekbones. He had perpetually chapped lips and a little bump on the bridge of his nose. 

He was a mess of contradictions, swooping in to help as with a cool-as-ice attitude only to become a blushing, blubbering mess just seconds later when he handed her the book and she thanked him happily. He was incredibly human and Takako admired that about him. 

“Scorekeeping, huh?” Isashiki asked, reading the title aloud. “You studying that?”

“Yes,” Takako replied, hugging the book close to her chest. “I need to get better at it.”

“You’re always writing stuff down, though,” Isashiki mused, more to himself than to Takako. Then, when Takako quirked an eyebrow at him curiously, he sputtered and coughed and waved his hand wildly. “I-I mean! I just! I always s-see you writing in a notebook! I just thought that…I just—“

Takako cut him off with a bright laugh, pressed her balled-up fist to her lips. 

“That’s nice of you to notice,” she said and watched him flush a deep, dark shade of red. “It’s not scorekeeping, though…It’s a little embarrassing but I’ve been keeping track of the progress of you all.”

Isashiki paused, his eyes widening. 

“Our progress?” he asked, pointing to himself as if he represented the grander whole of the current Seidou Baseball Team first years. 

“Mmhmm!” Takako hummed in affirmation. 

Isashiki went quiet, thinking for a bit, before he said, “But you know what they say about us, right? They call us the hopeless year.” 

“I know,” Takako said, her voice dropping to a whisper. The tips of her fingers curled over the hardcover of the book. “But…I know you all will succeed.” 

Isashiki made this face, then, like he was so grateful. His nose scrunched up, his lips pursed, and his eyes shone brightly. He looked so relieved to hear someone have faith in him… in them. It looked like a big weight of insecurity had been taken from his shoulders. Takako felt her heart swell and a wave of affection for Isashiki hit her that she hadn’t ever experienced before. 

A thought dawned on her, then. Maybe, she thought, could this be it? Could this be what I’ve been searching for?

Without stopping to think or to rationalize, she stepped towards Isashiki with eyes as wide as saucers. 

“Isashiki-kun,” she asked, grabbing onto his wrist. She felt his muscles tense up beneath her sudden touch. “Are you seeing anyone? Would you like to go on a date with me?” 

Dinner at the Spirit Dorms was always more like a work-out than a meal. Shoveling three bowls of rice into his body was a challenge that Jun still hadn’t become completely accustomed to, despite being on the team for almost five months. 

“What’s wrong, Jun?” Tetsu, who was sitting across from him, asked. Tetsu was diligently eating bite after bite of rice. Sometimes, Jun hated Tetsu for the steadfast way he could complete his meal with little difficulty or complaint. 

Jun flushed, recoiling away. It was new—this whole calling each other by their first names thing—and hearing Tetsu say his given name so casually still had Jun’s heart skipping a beat. He said it so easily, just like the way he did most things. Jun and Tetsu had not always been close. In fact, Jun sort of hated the guy at first. He was hard to read and too honest—everything Jun was not. He liked to run faster than Jun during their warm-ups and he had this irritatingly persistent competitive nature that could rival only Jun’s. Jun had resigned, for awhile, to hating Tetsu forever until he blinked and, suddenly, they were swinging their bats at night alongside the rest of the year in quiet determination and Jun realized that maybe this guy wasn’t that bad, after all. 

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jun spat out, absently twirling his chopsticks around his bowl.

“Not hungry?” Tetsu asked. 

“I’ll eat your rice if you don’t want it,” Masuko offered. He was sitting beside Tetsu. Ryousuke and Tanba were on either side of Jun. The first years all sat together in a big, congenial group at meal times. 

“You can’t have my rice, idiot,” Jun retorted. “The senpais will totally catch us. It’s fine, I’m fine. I’ll eat it, okay?”

Angrily, Jun shoved three huge bites of rice into his mouth, almost choking himself as he stubbornly swallowed it down in a large gulp. 

Tetsu eyed him warily and, in a low voice so the others could not be privy to it, he asked, “Is something bothering you, Jun?” 

Jun was sometimes a bit freaked out at how perceptive Tetsu was to him and him only. It was a little creepy how in tune the first baseman was to Jun’s emotions. Sure, Jun wasn’t exactly known for his ability to hide his feelings from others but still, Tetsu’s attention put him on edge. 

“I dunno,” Jun mumbled around his mouthful of food. “Kind of.” 

“Tell me.” 

That was another thing Jun hated; Tetsu could be irritatingly persistent. 

“I guess…Manager Fujiwara asked me out today.”

“What!?” The shouts of Masuko, Tanba, Miyauchi, Kadota, and Sakai rang out in succession. The assholes were eavesdropping! On his private conversation with Tetsu!

“Shhh!” hissed Jun, waving his hands wildly to quiet the group down. “Shut the fuck up! She might hear you!” 

Fujiwara was here, at the dining hall, sitting at a table across the room with the other managers. He snapped his neck around, looking over in her direction. She caught his eye immediately and smiled shyly before waving and averting her gaze. 

“You must be joking,” lamented Sakai after seeing their silent exchange. He pulled his hands over his eyes. It figured, he always thought she was cute. 

“She really wants to date you?" Tanba asked in that shy voice of his, his mouth slightly agape. 

“Hey, that’s kind of rude,” Chris said through a short chuckle, amused by the wild reactions of their teammates. 

Jun growled, balling his fist up and shaking it at his teammates who were abuzz with conversation about him and Fujiwara. Ryousuke was saying something condescending with that wickedly placid grin of his but Jun couldn’t hear it, turning his head to glance at Tetsu. He was searching for something but he didn’t quite know what it was. A reaction? An answer? Tetsu’s face was blank, though, and his expression was unreadable. He blinked a few times before looking back down at his bowl. Jun felt an odd pang of disappointment rise in his chest. Does he really not care? Jun thought, biting down on his bottom lip. 

“So are you going to say yes?” Masuko asked, breaking Jun from his pensive thoughts. 

“Of course he’s going to say yes,” said Sakai, shaking his head. “It’s Manager Fujiwara! You know, I heard that Ichinose from the soccer team got shot down by her this week!”

“How impressive,” Ryousuke said in a cajoling manner. “I bet you feel flattered, huh, Jun?”

Jun gritted his teeth and thought back to their earlier exchange in the library at lunch. He’d been taken so off guard, stunned into silence and frozen by the eagerness and earnestness with which she had asked him out. Nothing like that had ever happened to Jun before; it was a confession that felt like it had been taken from one of the shoujo manga he and his sisters loved to read. In a moment of panic, he’d accepted her invitation with a short, stuttered out “Sure!” but, well, something felt uneasy inside of him and he didn’t know why. It had been eating him alive all afternoon, sucking all the appetite out of him. 

Putting on a brave, unbothered face, he wolfed down the rest of his food in large, quick bites before slamming his palms down on the table’s surface and standing from his chair.

“I’m done,” he announced darkly, picking his tray up and bringing it back to the kitchen. As he walked away, he could feel the stare of Tetsu trailing his steps. A shiver crawled up Jun’s spine. 

Fujiwara was waiting for Jun outside the dining hall, standing by the door to intercept him as he was leaving. 

“Isashiki-kun,” she said, shyly rubbing her left forearm with her right hand and looking at the ground. 

“Fujiwara-san,” Jun greeted awkwardly. He kicked his foot into the ground and let bits of dirt crumble beneath the soles of his shoe. 

“I…um, I apologize if I put you in a bad spot with the team,” she said. 

It was dark now and the moon out. It cast its bright light over Takako and made her look sort of ethereal in its dreamy glow. Jun supposed that he should like her. After all, she had all the features and qualities that he enjoyed in the heroines of his favorite romance manga. She had dark hair and dark eyes and a kind, wane smile. She had this quiet dedication to baseball and the team. Many of her qualities actually, in a strange way, reminded Jun a lot of Tetsu. 

“No, you didn’t,” Jun said, trying his best to reassure her. "Don't worry."

“Oh, good,” she replied, clasping her hands together. 

“I was really shocked,” Jun told her in a moment of uncharacteristic vulnerability, “when you asked me out in the library. I didn’t know you, um, felt that way about me.” 

Fujiwara didn’t answer for a couple of seconds. She seemed really pensive, mulling over Jun’s statement until she could find the right words to respond.

“To be honest,” she said, “I didn’t either.” 

“Oh,” was all Jun could say in reply because, well, what the hell kind of response was that, anyway? Jun didn’t know if should be flattered or offended. He didn’t have that much time to dwell on it, though, because she was speaking again, and leaning forward. 

“So! I was thinking we could go out on Sunday afternoon. You guys only have practice in the morning, right?” 

“Ah, yes, that’s right,” Jun said. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck anxiously. Sunday, he thought, that’s in three days. 

She clasped her hands together once more and grinned widely. 

“Perfect! Let’s see a movie and then grab some food, okay?”

“O-Okay!” Jun stammered out. He supposed he was slightly flattered by her zealousness. “I-I’ll look forward to it, then.” 

“Great, me too! I’m heading out now,” she said and hiked the strap of her bag further up her shoulder. She bowed her head down slightly, always polite and well-mannered. “Good work today! Goodnight, Isashiki-kun.” 

And then she was off, jogging away into the dark, before Jun could even raise his hand up and say goodnight in return. He walked to the bathhouse, slightly dazed, like he was having a fever dream that was a tab bit too prolonged. 

Jun was sitting at his desk, hunched over with his propped up hand resting on his cheek. He was staring out of the window with his eyebrows furrowed and pretending he couldn’t hear the whispers and murmurs of his classmates around them. 

It had only been a day but rumors of him and Fujiwara were circulating like a wildfire. Goddamn big mouths, Jun thought. Which one of those fuckers told? I’ll kill them! 

While Jun didn’t mind being the center of attention—a position he often put himself into—it felt sort of icky for this to be the reason. He didn’t know why and, honestly, he felt quite guilty because Fujiwara was a nice, pleasant girl whom he genuinely did like (whom he should be proud to show off, damnit!) but when people looked at him because of her, it felt like bugs crawling all over his skin. It felt like he was a monkey in a zoo. It felt like—

“Jun.” 

The sound of Tetsu’s voice broke Jun from his thoughts. His eyes widened, gaze softening, as he looked up and saw Tetsu standing in front of his desk.

“Tetsu,” Jun said, inhaling sharply. “What are you doing here?”

Wordlessly, Tetsu lifted up his bento box. It was wrapped in a light blue cloth. Stupid commuter kid, thought Jun with envy. I wish I could have my mom’s homemade lunch like that. 

Tetsu pulled a chair from another desk and sat down across from Jun. 

“This is rare,” mused Jun, leaning back in his seat. “Paying me a visit and all that.” 

Tetsu shrugged, looking down at the table as he unwrapped his lunch. “I just wanted to have lunch with you.” 

Jun felt an involuntary smile tug at the corner of his lips. 

“Have you eaten already, Jun?” 

“Ah, yeah,” replied Jun. “I got a meat bun from the lunchroom.”

Tetsu frowned, his dark eyebrows knitting together. 

“That’s not enough. Lunch is an important meal, you know.” Then, before Jun could reply, Tetsu pushed the lunch box further towards the middle of the desk. “Here. Let’s share.”

The offer was so earnest and simple that Jun didn’t have it in him to refuse. 

They ate in silence for a bit, simply enjoying each other’s company. Tetsu’s mom was a great cook. 

“So—” Tetsu said, in between pensive bites of food. He looked up, then, his golden eyes catching Jun’s. “—you’re going on a date with Fujiwara-san?”

Jun paused his chewing, feeling a big lump well in the back of his throat. He felt very small, all of the sudden, beneath the scrutiny of Tetsu’s gaze. There was no reason to be ashamed; Jun kept repeating that fact in his head again and again like a mantra but, still, he didn’t want to divulge the subject with anyone, let alone Tetsu. He didn’t know why Tetsu stood out so much in his mind, why Tetsu’s opinion on the subject mattered more than anyone else’s, but it was killing him as he struggled to find the words to reply. 

“I—“ Jun stammered out, “I—Yeah, I…am. On Sunday. She invited me to a movie in the afternoon.” 

Tetsu thought about this for a long while. He always thought before he spoke, something Jun never had the ability to do. He carefully crafted his words and always spoke with a certain conviction that made anything he said seem like the unadulterated truth. 

“I see.” 

Jun gulped. What the hell is with that lukewarm reaction? 

Jun chortled out some half-baked barks of loud laughter, trying his best to awkwardly cut the tension with a joke. 

“Why, Tetsu, ya bastard? Do you like her or something?” 

Tetsu’s head snapped up then, and Jun immediately knew that had been the wrong thing to say. There was an intensity in Tetsu’s eyes that Jun had only ever seen on the baseball grounds before, holding his bat and swinging with practiced strength. 

“No,” said Tetsu. “I don’t.” 

Jun’s lips fell agape. 

“Tetsu—“ he began to say but the shrill sound of the bell ringing cut him off, signaling that lunchtime was over. 

Wordlessly, Tetsu stood and began to pack up their finished meal. He looked over at Jun, who was still wide-eyed and open-mouthed. The intensity in his eyes was gone and he offered Jun a small, quiet smile. It was reassuring but Jun still felt on edge, sort of shell-shocked. 

Tetsu held his hand up in farewell and said, “I’ll see you later at practice, Jun.”

Jun’s eyes followed the other first year out of the classroom’s doors, disappearing down the hall. Even when Tetsu was gone, Jun stared at the spot he’d stood at, trying to will Tetsu back into his line of sight. 

Isashiki was wearing a black shirt and a pair of jeans when he emerged from the Spirit dorms, walking towards the school’s front gate where Takako had been waiting for him. Takako realized, as he approached her, that she’d actually never seen him outside of his school or baseball uniform before. It was strange, like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs. It wasn’t unpleasant, though, just different. 

Takako had packed herself an extra outfit when she left in the morning, knowing she had to help out with practice and wouldn’t have the time to go home and change. She had put it on in the school bathroom. A simple cream-colored blouse and a blue skirt. She had stared at her reflection in the mirror and wondered what exactly it was that people wore on dates. She’d never actually been on one. Was it the same as when she went out with her girl friends? No, usually she felt more excited when she was with them. 

For a bit, Takako had gone back and forth if she should leave her hair down but, eventually, she decided to put it up in a half-up, half-down kind of style. 

“Hey.” Isashiki greeted her. “Did you do something different with your hair?”

“Oh!” Takako exclaimed. She was surprised that he noticed. Do boys really notice that sort of thing? “Yes, I did. Do you like it?”

Isashiki squinted, tilting his head and observing in a very serious and analytical way. Takako almost laughed at that, snorting out a breath of air. She kept it in because she knew he’d be embarrassed if she laughed in his face. He was just so earnest about everything. 

“Yeah,” Isashiki said, finally. “I like it. It’s fun.” 

She grinned, tugging at the ends. “Thank you.” 

They stared awkwardly at each other for a few seconds and Takako wondered if, maybe, he was also new at this. They both seemed at a loss. An impasse. The late-Summer sun shone down on them, sweltering and unforgiving. 

“Should we go?” Isashiki asked, gesturing vaguely at the road in front of them. 

“Yes, let’s.” 

They walked to the train station and chatted aimlessly about school and baseball and what kind of shows they liked to watch. Takako appreciated how easy it was to talk to Isashiki, how he always had interesting and funny things to say. 

“So, what kind of movie are we seeing?” he asked when they sat on the train. It jostled them around and, when they hit a bump, Takako fell into Isashiki’s side. The contact made them both tense up. 

“Nothing really good was playing,” Takako admitted sheepishly. “I was thinking we could see that new zombie movie? It’s a sequel. Is that alright with you?” 

Isashiki chewed on his bottom lip. 

“To be honest,” he said, “I haven’t seen the first one. I’ve been so busy with baseball that I don’t think I’ve seen a movie in a movie theatre in years.”

Takako chuckled. 

“I think that’s okay,” she replied. “Most action movies are pretty crappy with no plot anyway. You probably don’t need the context of the first one to understand it.” 

Isashiki laughed loudly. “Got it.” 

When they got to the theatre, Isashiki had graciously paid for their tickets and drinks which Takako felt bad for because it had been her who asked him out but he’d insisted with a dark red face, mumbling something about being “manly.” 

As it turned out, the movie was pretty crappy. It was far too melodramatic with actors dying in unconvincing ways and the CGI on the zombies was pretty unbelievable and horrible. There was an underdeveloped romance between the two leads which led nowhere, only for the man to be unceremoniously killed off in the third act. 

Takako had been wholly unimpressed with it but she snuck a glance at Isashiki when the man was bleeding out, whispering that he had always loved the woman. She had been pretty shocked to see bright, wet tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He wiped them hurriedly and she turned away, pretending she never saw a thing. 

I see, she thought, amused. He’s the type to get emotional at films. 

When they emerged from the theatre after everything had miraculously been solved by a magical cure, Takako asked, “Did you enjoy it?” 

“I thought the main actor did a really good job,” Isashiki answered. “It was totally heartbreaking when he died. He never got to tell Aki-chan he loved her until it was too late! It was so sad! The zombies were pretty sick, too, huh?” 

“I don’t know…” Takako mused. “I could kind of tell they were computer generated.”

“What?! They weren’t actors?!” 

It was early-evening by the time they left so they decided to eat. They went to a family-style restaurant that was nearby. Takako slid into one side of the booth and Jun slid into the side across from her. Now that they were no longer in the darkness of the theatre and the nervous energy from the train ride had worn off, neither knowing what to do next.

They both buried their faces in the menu, reading it intently like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

“W-What looks good to you?” Takako asked conversationally. 

“Hmm…” Isashiki said and Takako realized that this was probably the first non-Seidou meal he’d eaten in quite a while. “I think maybe the pork cutlet bowl sounds good. I’ll get two extra sides of rice.”

Takako smiled at that. 

“You’re very diligent, aren’t you, Isashiki-kun?”

“Huh?” Isashiki asked, looking up at her. “Of course I am! I can’t let any of them pass me! Tetsu and Masuko are big eaters, you know. I gotta keep up with them!” 

“It’s admirable,” Takako replied. Then, she thought back to the team and said, “You and Yuuki-kun are very close, right?” 

Isashiki’s ears perked up and he flushed a little, rosiness tinting the high bones of his cheeks. “Are we really?” 

Isashiki and Yuuki were always together, it didn’t take a genius to notice that. They were always chasing after each other. If Yuuki did 100 swings, Isashiki did 200. If Isashiki ran 20 laps, Yuuki ran 30. While, from the outside, it looked like they didn’t get along, they actually complimented each other perfectly. For all of Isashiki’s loud neurotics, there was Yuuki’s intense concentration.

Takako told him such. 

Isashiki averted his eye contact and mumbled something that Takako couldn’t quite hear. She could sort of guess, though. He said, “Well..he’s Tetsu, after all.”

What could that mean? She wanted to ask but their waiter interrupted, arriving with their food. 

They ate mostly in silence. It wasn’t awkward silence, per say, it was actually quite nice and peaceful but Takako couldn’t help but observe the other couples around them. The couples around them were chatting, leaning in towards each other. They offered each other bites of their food and laughed loudly when the other said something funny. They linked their ankles underneath the table or held each others hands. They gave each other suggestive looks and said things only they could understand, trapped in a world of their own. There was this intense familiarity, a comfort, that Takako could not comprehend. 

All of her life, she’d seen her girlfriends come in and out of relationships, speaking of love in great, beautiful words but she was always content to spend her times with her friends and, now, with the team. She wondered if this was what made her so weird to Kirimi and Chiyo, this inability to understand what love between a boy and a girl was and could be. 

“Isashiki-kun,” she said, breaking the silence that had settled between them. She figured she'd pick his brain a little. 

“Hmm?"

“What do you think it means to like another person? How can you tell if you do?” 

“I don’t know,” Isashiki answered after contemplating her question for awhile and Takako really appreciated his honesty. “I think…maybe…you always think about the person you like, like you can’t get them out of your mind. You want to be with them all the time. You make each other better, I guess.” 

Takako took that in. 

“I see. And how can you tell when you find that person? How will you know?” 

Isashiki looked down at his half-eaten food. His eyebrows were furrowed and his lips pursed.

“I don’t know, Fujiwara-san,” he admitted gently. “Maybe when you know…you’ll just know. Your heart doesn’t lie.”

Takako, despite herself, found a smile tugging at her lips.  

“That’s a really beautiful way to think about it, Isashiki-kun.”

Even despite his obvious embarrassment, Takako couldn’t help but laugh at the way Isashiki covered up his face and shouted, “S-Shut up!” 

Jun felt drained by the time he dragged himself back into the Seidou baseball grounds. He felt dazed and like he’d been zapped of all his energy. It was pretty dark out now, and it was quiet through campus. Most people had probably turned in already, starting to get ready for bed. After dinner, Fujiwara and him had walked around for a bit, looking at shops and enjoying the rest of the night they had off. It wasn’t too often you got a break from the unrelenting life of Japanese High School Baseball. Jun wouldn’t trade that life for the world, though, and he had a feeling Fujiwara felt similarly. 

When they made their way back to campus, Jun had offered to walk her home but she had insisted she’d be fine. 

“I’m only a short walk away,” she had informed him. “Please don’t worry about me. Just get some rest, okay? You’ll be tired in class tomorrow and Takashima-sensei really might kill you if you fall asleep in her class again.” 

It was kind of her to think of him. That was the thing he didn’t often realize about Fujiwara. She was very observant and detail-oriented, she remembered everything and was always very selfless about it. 

Of course, Jun wasn’t going straight to bed, though. He stopped by his dorm to change out of jeans and into a pair of athletic sweats. He grabbed his batting gloves from his desk and his bat that he always left leaning against the wall in the genkan. 

He made his way to the area behind the indoor training center, where they all did their swings. Tetsu had ingrained it in him—on all of them—the habit of swinging every night. Jun's day never felt complete without it anymore. 

Of course, he’d be doing them alone tonight, which was always a bit of a bummer. Surely, everyone was finished with practice for the night. Surely—

“Tetsu?"

Tetsu halted his dutiful swings, his bat-holding hand falling to his side, at the sound of Jun's voice, suddenly ringing out. His chest was heaving pretty rapidly, sweat beading at his hairline and dripping down his temple. Jun hated how he always looked good, even sweaty from his manic, insane workout routine. 

“What are you still doing here, moron?” Jun shouted. "Do you know what time it is?!” 

Tetsu merely blinked at him and raised an accusatory finger. 

“But you’re here, too, Jun.” 

“T-That’s besides the point!”

They swung in silence for a bit, the ingrained muscle memory was almost like a fucked-up kind of lullaby. 

Jun was on his 54th swing when Tetsu stopped and said, “Today was your date with Fujiwara, right?” 

Jun stopped his motions, too, turning to look at Tetsu. “Yeah. I just got back.” 

“I see,” said Tetsu. “Did you have a good time?” 

“I think so,” Jun answered. “We saw a movie that was pretty good. It was called Zombies 2: No Cure. There was a cure, by the way.”

Tetsu, who usually missed jokes like he used to miss fielding catches at the start of the year, smiled at that. Jun smiled back because, though he’d never admit it, he liked to make the ever-stoic Tetsu smile. It was like a little reward, something only he was privy to. He cherished every small grin he could procure from Tetsu and seeing it always made his heart stammer in his chest. He didn’t know why. Maybe because it was Tetsu, after all.  

“Then we got dinner and talked. But! Enough about my night! How was yours?” 

“It was fine,” Tetsu said. “Tanba is working on his breaking balls. He’s starting to pitch with more confidence.” 

Jun nodded firmly, crossing his arms tightly around his chest. “That’s good. He’s got talent, that idiot. He should be more proud.” 

Jun thought they'd engage in a little more small talk before going back to their swings but Tetsu went silent. He turned to face Jun head-on and he gave Jun this look that had Jun gasping for breath and taking a step back. 

“Jun,” asked Tetsu slowly. “Do you like Fujiwara-san?”

Jun felt a rush of emotions run through him all at once, a dizzyingly array of questions and thoughts spinning in his head. 

What? Do I like Fujiwara-san? What is this moron talking about? Do I like her? What does that even mean? To like someone? To fall for them?

Then, all of the sudden, Jun remembered his conversation with Fujiwara from dinner. It hit him like a truck and it was his own words that had his gasping for breath. You always think about them, he’d said. You can’t get them out of your mind, he’d said. You want to be with them all the time. You make each other better. 

“Do you even care if I like her or not?” Jun spat out, feeling like his entire body was set aflame. 

Jun tried to look away but Tetsu caught his gaze before he could. He stared at Jun dead in the eye, trapping him in an ferocity that was far too great.

“Yes,” Tetsu said, “I do.”

“Why, Tetsu?” Jun cried out, a feeling of intense frustration rising in his body without warning. “I don’t understand!”

I don’t understand you, he thought, wishing he could scream. I don’t understand myself. I don’t understand why I feel the things that I do. 

“Because if you say that you like her, I’ll drop it forever," Tetsu told him, "…but…if you don’t…I want to know.” 

Hey, thought Jun. He blanched. All the color was drained from his face and his eyes widened. Hey. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. 

And, in a striking moment of clarity, Jun realized that simply standing here with Tetsu, swinging their bats and talking, made his heart beat faster than it had beaten the entire afternoon he spent with Fujiwara. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

I don’t like Fujiwara, he realized. I’ve liked Tetsu, all along. 

It was a scary and terrifying and all-consuming thought but, at the same time, there was a certain lightness in Jun’s chest. He liked Tetsu. Of course he did! Tetsu, who always knew when something was wrong. Tetsu, who wanted to eat meals with Jun and was always generous to share. Tetsu, with his dark hair and beautifully hard-set golden eyes. There was something very freeing about it all, to know that everything that had been confusing was because it had been something very beautiful—that he liked Tetsu. 

“Tetsu,” Jun said, very slowly and carefully. “Do you like me?”

Usually, Tetsu always thought before he spoke but there was no hesitation in Tetsu’s voice when he said, “Yes.” 

Jun couldn’t help himself, his body was moving on its own, when he reached forward and wrapped his arms around Tetsu. The batter's body was warm and his hands were strong when they reached up to return the embrace, splayed out over Jun’s back. He smelt of baseball glove leather and pine needles and Jun never wanted to let go. The touch was intoxicating—contact like he’d never felt before—and tears stung the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill out when Jun realized the sheer magnitude of all these feelings that he’d been unknowingly carrying around for days, weeks, months. Maybe longer, maybe since the misty day they stepped foot onto Field A and introduced themselves, Jun jumping out of one to intimidate Tetsu, who would never budge. 

“I like you, too,” he whispered. When he said those words, Jun felt the muscles in Tetsu’s body tense up.

“Really?” Tetsu asked like he couldn’t quite believe it. “You do?” 

“Yes, you idiot. Yes.” 

Tetsu paused, stirring in the realization that his feelings were mutual. He probably felt as overwhelmed as Jun had. Tetsu buried his nose into the crook of Jun’s neck. His words were muffled by his mouth pressed into the exposed part of Jun’s skin. 

“Can we keep hugging for a little longer?” he asked.

“Moron,” taunted Jun, tightening his hold around Tetsu’s middle, “I’m not letting go first.” 

Fujiwara was waiting outside the dining hall of the Spirit Dorms. Isashiki had asked her at lunch to meet him there after dinner. She sat on the ground step, her head resting in between her propped up knees. It was pretty lucky that Isashiki had asked her to talk today because she’d been meaning to speak to him, too. 

From behind her, she heard the whine of the door hinges opening and footsteps making their way to her. She didn’t have to turn her head to know whose heavy steps they were. Isashiki plopped down on the step beside her. 

“Hey,” he greeted casually.

“Hello,” she responded in kind. 

It wasn’t quite dark out yet because the team was having an early dinner so they could review some game footage afterwards. Most people were still eating, though, and Takako was slightly impressed at the speed with which Isashiki had finished his meal. 

The setting sun had a beautiful orangey glow cast over the Seidou Baseball grounds. 

They turned to face each other, just looking for a second, before they opened their mouths and spoke at the same time. 

“I wanted to talk to you—“

“I have something to say—“

Despite themselves, they both laughed good-naturedly. 

“You go first,” Isashiki said, always unexpectedly gentleman-like. 

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. 

Takako felt heat in her cheeks, then. She stared at the dirt beneath her feat, a small patch of grass growing between the cracked concrete of the steps. She hadn’t expected to speak first. It was Isashiki who called her here, after all. She thought she'd hear him out before she got to say her piece. 

“You’re very nice, Isashiki-kun,” she started to say, “and I really like you a lot...but I don’t think we should continue to see each other.” 

She was afraid to look up and see his face. Takako didn’t enjoy hurting people by any means and she felt an extra bit of guilt because it as her whims that dragged Isashiki into this situation, after all. She felt shame and then, very quickly, surprise because, when she did look up, Isashiki looked downright delighted instead of the crushed heartbreak she had expected to see on his features. 

“I was going to say the exact same thing!”

“Really?!”

“Uh-huh!”

They both laughed again, dissolving into giggles that they couldn’t control. Isashiki hunched over, his left hand holding the concrete step to brace himself, and Takako held her sides, doubled over in pain from the force of her heaving laughter. 

“Isashiki-kun,” she finally gasped out, after what felt like forever before the laughter abated. “Can...Can I ask why?”

“Well,” said Isashiki with a soft grin on his lips. “I like someone else.” 

Takako clasped her hands together excitedly. “Really?” 

“Yup!”

“And…this person, Isashiki-kun, do you feel all those things we talked about at the restaurant?”

There was a flicker in Isashiki’s eyes that Takako had only seen once before. It was the look that made her want to ask him out in the first place, when she told them she believed they would all succeed. It was so pure, the emotion that he wore on his face. She was glad to see that someone could truly make him feel that way.

“I do,” said Isashiki in earnest. 

“I’m so happy for you,” Takako told him and she genuinely meant it. She could tell from the look on his face that he believed her. 

“What about you, Fujiwara-san? Can I ask why? Do you like someone else, too?”

“No,” said Takako. She curled his arms tighter around her propped up knees, hugging them to her chest. “It’s not anything like that. It’s just…I think I felt like I had to date someone because that was what everyone told me I should be doing but I was just going through the motions of romance with boys, you know? And then…what you said, Isashiki-kun…about liking someone and how the heart doesn’t lie, I realized that love is too beautiful of a thing to just do out of obligation. It wasn’t fair to you and it wasn’t fair to me. I won’t rush things anymore, you know? I’ll wait for the right person to come along and if they don’t, they don’t, but I am starting to understand myself more, I think.”

“I see,” Isashiki said. He smiled widely; the kind of smile where his eyelids creased and his teeth flashed. “That’s a really beautiful way to think about it, Fujiwara-san.”

+ (extra)

“Tell the story, Fujiwara-san!” shouted Kuramochi. He was too drunk, raising his glass and letting beer slosh all over him and the table. Miyuki hung off of him, equally as drunk and draped over Kuramochi’s arm. They were too old to be getting this sloppy. Kuramochi was a physical therapist, for Christ’s sake—a fucking doctor—and Miyuki was playing in the NPB. 

“What story?” Takako asked. Her cheeks were red. She was also a bit tipsy. She liked to play coy when she drank. Jun knew her drunken patterns all too well, too many nights bar-crawling during their college years when they had to call Tetsu to pick them up, far too intoxicated to take the train or even walk in a straight line.

“Don’t tell him the story, Takako!” Jun shouted but his cries were either unheard or ignored. 

“You know what story I’m talking about, Fujiwara-san!” Kuramochi slurred out. “The one where Jun-san’s gay ass dated you for a week!”

“It wasn’t a week, Kuramochi, you little prick! It was three fucking days, that doesn’t even count as dating!”

“Shut up, Jun-san! Tell the story, Fujiwara-san!"

“Tell it! Tell it! Tell it!” 

The rallying cries of the drunken sea of Seidou alumni’s clearly outnumbered Jun because Takako threw her back, laughing, and said, “Okay, so it started when Ichinose-kun from the soccer club asked me out…”

Jun grumbled unintelligibly before he felt an arm wrap around his waist. He didn’t have to look to know who it was, he knew that touch like it was his own. Jun slumped over, crossing his arms and sinking into the familiar hold of his husband. 

“I hate it when she tells this stupid story,” Jun grumbled. 

Tetsu hummed absently. He leaned down to drop a kiss on the crown of Jun’s head. 

“I don’t know,” he mused, “I like this story.”

“Why?” Jun admonished, throwing his hands up. “It’s so stupid! We saw one shitty movie once when we were 15! She always makes me sound like an idiot, too! I swear, that girl wrote revisionist history! What is there to like about it?”

“Well, it brought me you,” Tetsu said. He smiled warmly so only Jun could see. “Isn’t that more than enough?” 

Jun, even in spite of himself, felt himself grinning back. He would never, ever get tired of that smile.