Chapter Text
It was the deciding game of his middle school career- Ryosuke's last chance to take his team to nationals. He wasn't sure where he wanted to go to school yet- but if his team won, he knew he'd have his pick by year end. He knew the scouts' eyes were on him, always aware of everyone's expectations, and he's moving with a heedless desperation that goes beyond even the intensity he adopted in his last year.
The ball shoots over the infield. It's above him, but not by much- he jumps for it, as high as he can go.
The moment passes. He doesn't feel anything.
When his feet hit the ground they give under him, his whole body crumpling into the dirt. In an instant the field has gone silent- or maybe his hearing has gone as numb as the rest of him, and the first thing his blank mind registers is the need to breathe.
A voice from the outfield breaks the silence.
"Your wrist!"
Ryosuke tries and fails to gasp, struggles up even as his parents and the coach are running onto the field, and, trembling, he slowly moves his gloved hand in view.
It doesn't register. Maybe because the glove already makes it look unnatural, large and misshapen. His mind avoids it, looks at the ball on the ground in front of him, wonders why.
As the frantic footsteps get closer, it clicks into place.
Air finally escapes his lungs. He screams.
"It will take around two months to heal- a bad fracture. I understand it happened during a baseball game; since your season is over now, however, it shouldn't interfere with your athletic career."
"Over?"
Reality still hasn't rematerialized since the moment it broke against his wrist, the cast there making no more sense than the bent glove had before. He'd left his consciousness back on the ball field, struggling to catch up as time marched invisibly past.
"We lost, aniki."
Haruichi stepped forward, looking guiltily at his feet.
"They told me to go out after you were taken off but.... I was too scared." His voice cracked with dryness, and Ryosuke made himself focus, his breath stopping at the sight of Haruichi's hands trembling. "I'm second basemen, and I only play when you aren't, but I wouldn't go.... Everyone else was scared too, but they kept playing, while I left. I- I'm..."
No. No, it's not your fault, Haruichi.
Ryosuke wished he could've told Haruichi not to worry about him. This could've been his chance- he could've gone out, shown the scouts his ability-
"I'm quitting baseball."
His lungs squeeze closed, and what reality he had managed to piece together falls apart again.
No. No no no no no.
Haruichi turns away, tears running down his face as he runs out of the room. Ryosuke's senses go numb again, no longer hearing the doctor or his parents speak to him.
He could have recovered, if it was just himself. Even if he couldn't play baseball anymore, he could have figured something out, found a new passion and kept going.
He would've been fine if it was only him.
His parents don't question him when he asks for his own room after leaving the hospital. A lot has happened, and they're willing to give him his space, accept that he might want to be alone at first.
He doesn't leave to go to school. This too, they say nothing about. Baseball was always so important to him- after what happened, seeing his teammates might be hard on him.
And how could he face them? It was his fault they lost. With time he could picture it clearly- the moment the ball hits the front of his wrist and snaps it, the shocked eyes of his teammates as they both fall to the ground. They were winning, but the energy is sucked out of them the same way the life is sucked out of him, and the game stops being fun the moment they remember they're not invincible. How could they keep their momentum when they're scared of the ball, how could they change gears when their spare second basemen still has his brother's scream ringing in his ears?
He'd always hid his pain, took everything onto himself- why did he have to crumble then, in front of everyone? Why did he have to break and spread that fear to everyone else?
Two months wasn't long enough punishment. He looked down at his cast in frustration, fighting the urge to bash it against the wall.
Haruichi knocked on the door, and Ryosuke curled more tightly into himself. He still blamed himself for their losing game- thought Ryosuke wouldn't speak to him because he blamed him, because he was disappointed. He was wrong. Ryosuke was mad at himself, for letting his invincible facade break in front of him, for scarring him and taking away what Haruichi was so obviously gifted at, so passionate about.
But he couldn't answer the door. Couldn't find the courage to look at him and remember that his future had been stolen from him. Eventually Haruichi left his doorway, went back to the too-large room that had once been theirs together. Ryosuke sat in silence, hated himself for being afraid, and the shame pushed him deeper into the indent of his bed, grounding him in place.
They called him for dinner, and he told his body to move, felt it twitch and resist him at the thought of them all at the table- of Haruichi looking at him hurt, his parents wanting to talk. He didn't move. Eventually, they left his meals outside his door- thought he'd starve himself otherwise, thought it'd go away eventually- they just had to wait out the shock and the grief, and everything would go back to normal. Ryosuke didn't think differently.
But it only got worse. The more time went on, the more clearly he could imagine his teammates scolding him for so obviously running away- he remembered the hits he'd taken from them for Haruichi's sake, realized he wasn't there to take them now as Haruichi's return from school was announced by the concerned questioning of their mother. He knows he needs to leave, knows without him as guard Haruichi is an easy target again, but even when he hears Haruichi's sobs through the door he can't make himself move.
When the house is empty and quiet, he screams, punches the wall and kicks out. Struggles under the weight of his own helplessness in vain.