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To be honest, it’s not that the class is afraid of Miyuki Kazuya.
Well, that’s a lie. A half-lie. More like, he’s quite intimidating. Cold? No, not really, he’s super respectful and polite actually. A little sarcastic, yeah–however, Miyuki would not go out of his way to initiate a conversation first. On top of his incredibly annoying good-looking face, Miyuki is the captain of the baseball team too. Which just makes it even more annoying, because aside from being an elite school, Seidou is mostly known as “Thee Baseball School.” Tell a random person you go here and they immediately assume you swing a bat.
I mean, do I look like someone from the baseball club? I am in the chess club, for God’s sake! We’ve won some competitions too—while not big, it’s still something to be proud of!
Being the captain of a well-known baseball club is a big deal. I heard that scouts from the pro baseball league have even reached out to him. While most people would go around bragging, Miyuki doesn’t even bother with it. There are a lot of rumours going around, but he never acknowledges them. Instead, he just sits in the corner of the class, reading and analyzing the baseball scorebook quietly. The girls would look at him with pure admiration, and the guys with pure envy. But no one ever seems to bother him. The only one who doesn’t seem to be intimidated by Miyuki Kazuya is Kuramochi, who the class also finds a little hard to talk to. Maybe it’s because they have their own specific aura.
While the rest of us are all still a bunch of teenagers going through puberty, Miyuki and Kuramochi already look like they got delivered straight from the gym. Which just makes the guys, including me, insecure. Of course, athletes have to take care of their bodies, bla bla bla—but come on, these two seem like they skipped their awkward teenage phase and suddenly appeared fully grown. Nagata, who sits behind Miyuki, says that his shoulders are as wide as the sea. I thought he was just blabbering nonsense like usual, but even from afar, it’s obvious that Miyuki’s body is well-built.
Ugh, lucky bastard. God sure took His time carving him up, huh.
I looked at the boy in front of me, and Hiro, with a questioning look on his face, paused his previous conversation and asked, “Is my face that good-looking for you to stare at so intensely?”
After pondering for a long time, I asked, “Hiro, how come I’ve never seen you interact with Miyuki in class? You’re from the baseball club too.”
He looked at me and sighed before answering, “We’re not that close, you know. Just because we’re in the same club doesn’t mean we talk to each other every day!” Hiro states, then continues, “Besides, I’m not even qualified to be in the second string. And since the Summer Tournament is coming up, I mostly just help the first string with their practice from the sidelines. We don’t really have any reason to talk to each other.” He mutters, genuinely bummed that his baseball dreams seem to be ending so quickly.
It’s not that Hiro is bad—if he went to another school, he would definitely be in the first string. Hell, he even said that he was the cleanup back in middle school, something he was clearly proud of. But the competition in Seidou is something else. He’s competing for a first string spot with a bunch of baseball prodigies. During Hiro’s first year, when everyone from their year was still building up their bodies and running around the field all day, Miyuki Kazuya was already leading the team with his calls from the other side of the field. Back then, Miyuki wasn’t as tall and fit as he is now, but after Hiro saw how he played during their game with the upperclassmen, he realized how different Miyuki was compared to the rest of the first years. Because of Chris-senpai’s injury, Miyuki became the first string starting catcher in no time, even taking the spot from the other former third-year catchers.
“Come on, there’s no way you’ve never talked to him before.” Nobisuke, the boy who sits beside me, retorts. Suddenly, their conversation shifts to discussing their popular classmate.
“Of course we’ve talked, but only for a few seconds. I’m pretty sure we’ve never had a full conversation before. Miyuki’s not the easiest person to approach, you know?” Hiro says flatly, staring blankly around the class while resting his cheek on his palm. “Besides, I’m not like Sawamura, who can just talk to his upperclassmen freely.”
My eyebrows quirk, and without bothering to hide my curiosity, I ask, “Who’s Sawamura?”
Nobisuke looked at me and gasped like I’d insulted his mother. Before Hiro can answer, he interrupts, “Oh my god, Kenji! Do you know nothing about our baseball club or what? You know what, wait, let me just show you.” Nobisuke immediately reaches for his phone to search for something. Although he’s not in the baseball club, Nobisuke loves watching them play. Being in the same class as Miyuki is, he said—and I quote—‘a great honour and opportunity.’
“We’re in the same class as a future pro athlete. Maybe we should try to be friends with him, you know, or at least become acquaintances, that’s definitely better than just classmates. You know what, we should ask for his autograph too. With that face, no matter what he does in the future, he’ll get famous one way or another anyway.”
I recall the moment when we found out our assigned class for third year. I look at Hiro, and he just shrugs with a lazy expression, clearly done with the conversation—until Nobisuke mutters, “Aha!” quietly to himself and starts shoving his phone in my face.
Hakuryuu High 1–3 Seidou High! Advent of the Golden Age for Seidou?
“Hakuryuu, Senbatsu semifinalists, are defeated even without the ace Furuya Satoru, who was kept in reserve. In particular, the commendable performance by the starting pitcher, Sawamura Eijun, speaks volumes about how much Seidou’s pitchers have improved. He…”
I squint at the picture of the boy on the website. He looks familiar for some reason. After pausing for a few minutes to think, I ask, “Isn’t he the loudmouth who went viral because he fell on the mound?”
“Yes! That’s exactly him!” Nobisuke replies excitedly, while Hiro laughs loud enough for some of our classmates to turn around and look at us curiously before going back to minding their own business. Thank god it’s lunchtime, so Miyuki and Kuramochi are nowhere to be seen.
“Yeah, everyone’s still teasing him about it to this day—it was hilarious. Even the coach’s reaction went viral,” Hiro says, wiping the tears from laughing. Since the Senbatsu Tournament was broadcast all over the country, some accounts posted clips on social media, and Sawamura’s video went viral and spread everywhere. Ever since then, Sawamura has been known as ‘The Funny Pitcher from Koshien.’ However, that’s all I know about him, so I ask, “Isn’t Furuya the ace, though? What’s the big deal about this?”
“It is a big deal! Hiro, I think it’s better if you’re the one explaining it to him.” Nobi grins before passing the responsibility to Hiro, who rolls his eyes but doesn’t refuse.
“They’re rivals. In their first year, Sawamura and Furuya both made the first string. Last year, even though our batting lineup was top-tier, we didn’t have a true ace on the mound. After Tanba-senpai got injured, the coach decided to put Sawamura on the first string as well. Even though Furuya is known for his powerful pitching, Sawamura is good too—he’s improved like crazy. During our Golden Week, Hakuryuu was, without a doubt, the toughest opponent out of all the teams we faced. The fact that he pitched all nine innings and only gave up one run was really impressive,” Hiro explains, his eyes gleaming with pride.
“I remember during his first year, he couldn’t even throw the ball straight. Now he has multiple pitches under his repertoire. To be honest, back then I thought Sawamura didn’t even have decent baseball skills except for bunting. There’s other pitchers on our team that deserve to be on the first string, so I feel bad for them. Some of us even talked shit about it, but I have to admit—whenever he’s on the mound, our eyes are just drawn to him. He makes the games really interesting to watch.”
“Wow, he must be amazing if Hiro is praising him like this,” I mutter to myself, then bluntly ask, “If that’s your toughest opponent, then why wasn’t Furuya the one playing? Is he injured?”
Hiro looks at me and Nobisuke, clearly contemplating, and finally opens his mouth to say, “Well, no, but he—” before suddenly getting interrupted by a loud, familiar laugh from outside the class.
“Hyahaha! That idiot—did you see his face when he almost stumbled trying to greet us?”
Kuramochi and Miyuki.
Our conversation quickly dies down, and we immediately return to our seats. I glance at the big clock on the wall—five minutes before break is over.
Ugh, just when the conversation was about to get good. Well then, I’ll ask about it again tomorrow.
Tomorrow comes, and I forget about it altogether.
–
A week later, after buying some snacks from the convenience store, the three of us headed back to class.Just as we were about to enter, I noticed a boy lingering outside of our classroom door, peeking in like he was looking for someone. I heard Hiro sigh beside me and say, “Sawamura, what are you doing here?”
Wait–Sawamura? Sawamura Eijun?
“Oh, good afternoon, Taguchi-senpai!” He greets loudly. Damn, did this kid eat microphone for breakfast or something? His voice is loud as hell. I thought to myself and looked him over. So this is Sawamura Eijun– the one we were talking about a few days ago. He’s quite tall, with naturally tanned skin and a baby face that doesn’t match his volume at all. Big eyes, expressive. Honestly—he’s kind of charming, like a puppy.
Yeah, I get it now. I get why Hiro said it’s fun to watch him. I mean– on the mound of course.
Sawamura fidgets with his hands, eyes narrowing like a caught cat before he blurts out, “Uhm, I was looking fo– AHHH MIYUKI KAZUYA!” he yells, before quickly bows at us, and bolts towards the person he was looking for.
Miyuki laughs like he already knew this was coming— grabs Sawamura by the shoulder, and starts dragging him away with that signature shit-eating grin. “Don’t be so loud, Bakamura~,” he says, ruffling his hair while Sawamura struggles like a trapped puppy. “LET ME GO YOU TANUKI BASTARD!” he shouts, and Miyuki’s annoying laugh echoes as they go down the stairs.
…Okay. I thought baseball clubs have a strict hierarchy, I guess not.
Aside from Kuramochi, this is the first time I’ve seen Miyuki laugh and smile like that, not the fake one he always did whenever someone tries to butter him up, no– this is, it’s different. Raising my eyebrows, I glance at Hiro, demanding an answer. He looks back at me like I’m the weird one, “What?”
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Don’t play dumb with me. You said Miyuki’s hard to approach, but he looks pretty friendly to me.”
“Then why don’t you try talking to him for once, you don’t even dare to pass him a message from our teacher.” Hiro shoots back, “Besides, that’s Sawamura. It's different.”
“Different how?” I continued to press while ignoring his sudden jabs– rude, by the way. Okay, sure, it’s true that I avoid talking to Miyuki, but it’s not like it’s on purpose, I just–don’t have the courage to start the conversation! Nothing’s wrong with that. It’s completely normal. It’s not like we have anything important to discuss anyway.
“.....Well, not my place to say,” Hiro mutters quietly, “Just know this is just a normal Tuesday for us.” He shrugs and walks back to his seat like that explains anything. Nobisuke and I exchange looks with each other. Yeah– there’s definitely something going on in the baseball club.
—
Sawamura’s class was playing dodgeball.
Since our Japanese class ended earlier than usual, we headed out to the field while waiting for the next lesson. That’s how we ended up catching the final round of the second years’ intense dodgeball battle. Naturally, Nobisuke dragged me there.
“Come on, come on, we have to see this,” he insisted, practically vibrating with excitement. Hiro followed behind us with a sigh, like he already knew what chaos we were about to witness.
And then I saw it. Sawamura Eijun versus Furuya Satoru.
From the start, it already felt intense. Maybe it’s because they’re both pitchers, even with a toy ball, their throws were sharp, too precise for a normal PE class. However, it was obvious they were holding back for the sake of their classmate. Now, everyone else on each of their teams had already been eliminated. The court was empty except for the two of them, standing on opposite ends, each holding a ball like it was some kind of final showdown.
…For dodgeball.
I folded my arms, unimpressed at first. But the longer I watched, the more I realized—this wasn’t normal.
Right. Pitchers.
“WAHAHA! Do you want to take this seriously now, Furuya?!” Sawamura’s voice rang across the entire field like a siren. A few students from my class winced, while the second year—already used to his volume, started cheering. Even their PE teacher seemed to give up trying to control them.
“Fine by me,” Furuya replied, completely unfazed. The cheers grew louder.
“Oi, you idiots, let’s just end it here, I don’t think this is a good idea” The boy with short blonde hair said, looking absolutely exasperated.
“WAHAHA! Kanemaru, haven’t you heard? A real man never cowers away from a challenge! FURUYA, DON’T YOU DARE RUN AWAY NOW! WAHAHAHA!”
…Yeah. That’s him, alright.
“That idiot is so fucking loud first thing in the morning.”
“I guess he got it from you, Kuramochi-kun~.”
“HA?”
I turned around slightly at the familiar voice. Miyuki stood just a few steps behind us, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed like he had all the time in the world. Kuramochi was beside him, already looking like he regretted coming here.
“Oi~ you two better take it easy,” Miyuki called out. “If I hear either of you going to the doctor today, I’m not catching for you for a whole month.”
“MIYUKI KAZUYA?!” Sawamura froze mid-step, then whipped his head around so fast I thought he might actually pull a muscle. “What are you doing here?!” he shouted, and then glanced around at the growing crowd of third years that had suddenly gathered.
“…Can’t you see I’m wearing PE clothes?” Miyuki adjusted his glasses lazily. “Do you want me to lend this to you?”
“NO THANKS! Now if you will, there’s a fierce battle going on right now, and as you can see, we don’t have time to entertain you, so go away!!”
…He really just said that, to his captain.
“Is that any way to talk to your captain?” Miyuki shot back, but there was no bite in it—if anything, he sounded amused, a shit-eating grin painted on his face.
“SHUT UP!!!”
“Don’t throw too hard.”
“We kn—” before Furuya could finish, Sawamura hollered, “WE KNOW!!”
It was strange. Normally in class, Miyuki usually kept to himself—quiet, observant, barely interacting unless necessary. He didn't really care about anything that didn’t concern him. So there was no reason for him to come and watch a junior class match. And yet, here he was. Watching, smiling, looking more at ease than I’d ever seen him.
The match resumed like nothing had happened.
I didn’t know why, but I found myself paying closer attention now. Sawamura moved first. Fast, light, and almost reckless. His body twisted and bent in ways that looked completely unplanned but somehow worked anyway. He dodged Furuya’s throw cleanly, the ball missing him by mere inches.
People cheered.
Furuya didn’t react. He simply picked up another ball, and threw again. This time— it was faster, a bit too strong than before. The ball hit Sawamura square in the back with a dull thud. He dropped to the ground instantly. The entire field went quiet for a second.
It was a toy ball, so it shouldn’t hurt that much– and Sawamura’s a fit guy. But still–
“I told you to take it easy, Eijun.” Miyuki moved before anyone else. One moment he was standing behind us, the next he was already on the court, crouched next to Sawamura like it was instinct. His hand pressed against Sawamura’s back, firm and careful at the same time.
…Eijun? I blinked.
“Eijun, are you okay?” Furuya’s voice was as flat as ever, but there was a hint of urgency in it. “I’m sorry.” He apologised, hands clenched as he looked down to the ground.
“Furuya, I told yo-” Miyuki started but Sawamura shot up so suddenly it startled a few people around him. “I’M GOOD, I’M FINE!”
“No worries, Furuya! It’s all good! MIYUKI KAZUYA, don’t start nagging now!! It was an accident, nothing serious! Look, the ball’s not even that hard! Don’t blame Furuya, we both agreed to this!”
“You moron. That’s what happens when you’re too hyper, I told you to not do this” Kanemaru muttered, arms crossed.
“IF I CAN’T SCORE WELL IN OTHER CLASSES, THIS IS THE LEAST I CAN DO!! This is the only class where I can manage to not fall asleep!” I snorted. Yeah, same.
“Oishaa—look! Your teacher’s here! That means our time is up! Let’s go!”
Just like that, he was back to normal. Loud and energetic, like nothing had happened. But Miyuki didn’t move.
“You sure you didn’t hurt anywhere?” Miyuki asked softly. Something about his voice made me pause. It wasn’t teasing. Not sarcastic, not like how he usually sounded. It was— careful. Only then did I notice that he was still holding Sawamura’s hand. “If anything feels off, go to the nurse’s office immediately.”
“Ugh, I’m fine, you worrywart! This Sawamura Eijun is tougher than he looks! So just go already!!” Sawamura urged , pulling his hands away to pat Miyuki’s arms a few times, a little too roughly to be considered normal. For a second, Miyuki just looked at him. And I don’t know why, but that moment felt strange. Not uncomfortable. Not tense. Just—different. Intimate, maybe? It feels like something I shouldn’t be looking at.
“I’m really fine, Kazuya,” Sawamura added, he smiles, voice dropping just slightly. “I promise. If I don’t feel good, I’ll go to the nurse’s office, okay?”
Kazuya.
Not “Miyuki.”
Not “Captain.”
Kazuya.
I frowned without realizing it, my mind starting to wander. I glanced at everyone else. Almost all of us– except the baseball club members– looked just as shocked by the scene in front of us. I heard Kuramochi grumble behind us, “Tch, here they go again, making everyone their third wheel”, before heading over to check on them.
I heard Miyuki click his tongue softly but didn’t argue. “…Fine.” And just like that, it was over. Miyuki brushed his thumbs over Sawamura’s hand one last time before letting go, leaning in slightly to whisper something. After that, Sawamura ran off with the rest of his class, ears slightly red but already laughing about something else, like the whole thing had never happened. Around me, I could hear quiet murmurs, people whispering about what we had just seen. But when the teacher called out to us, the field immediately returned to normal.
But I stayed where I was, staring a little longer than necessary.
“…Oi.” Hiro called out to me, a smirk painted on his face. I snapped out of it. Miyuki was already walking past us, heading toward the field again like nothing worth noting had just happened. Maybe it wasn’t. …Right?
So this is what Hiro meant by a “normal Tuesday.”
Class continued like usual. There was still a faint, uneasy tension filling the air, but when the teacher brought out a soccer ball, I heard a familiar maniacal laugh behind me. “Hyahaha! I guess today’s not your time to shine.”
—
I watched as Miyuki completely missed the ball. Twice.
“…Wow.”
Even Hiro looked mildly impressed—for all the wrong reasons. Nobisuke burst out laughing. And just like that, whatever tension I thought I felt earlier disappeared into something much more normal. As I jogged back to my position, I couldn’t help thinking about it. About the way Miyuki moved first. About how they call each other by their first name. About the way everyone in the baseball club didn’t seem surprised at all by their closeness.
Two things I learned from today’s class:
- Miyuki is surprisingly, a caring captain.
- He absolutely sucks at soccer
…and maybe— There’s something going on in that baseball club that I don’t quite understand yet.