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Everyone on the Seidou baseball team lived and breathed the sport. Nobody was an exception. Though some hid secrets behind carefully crafted masks and others behind sunny smiles.
Eijun knew his teammates thought he was dumb and always happy-go-lucky if he wasn’t screaming at the first-string catcher. His insecurities hid behind blinding smiles, loud voices, and shining eyes. He was happy though that nobody knew him well or bothered to know him. Everyone was comfortable with what they knew about the southpaw. However, maybe Eijun’s embarrassment wouldn’t have come if he told someone about his fears.
Everything began on a normal sunny day.
Eijun was in an exceptionally good mood.
Not only had he somehow managed to beat Furuya on one of the written quizzes earlier that morning, but Miyuki had actually praised his pitching during bullpen practice.
Well, praise might have been too strong of a word.
“Your inside pitches didn’t completely suck today.”
Still, from Miyuki Kazuya, that counted as a glowing compliment. Naturally, Eijun had spent the next twenty minutes loudly celebrating his achievement.
“Did you hear that, Furuya?! Even Miyuki-senpai admitted I’m amazing!”
Furuya blinked slowly from where he sat drinking water. “He said your pitches didn’t suck.”
“That’s practically a confession of love from him!”
Miyuki snorted behind his catcher’s mitt. “You’re way too easy to manipulate.”
Kuramochi immediately slung an arm around Eijun’s shoulders with a wicked grin. “Careful, Sawamura. Sounds like you’re getting emotionally attached.”
“I AM NOT!”
“You’re blushing.”
“I AM NOT BLUSHING EITHER!”
The upperclassmen laughed while Eijun sputtered indignantly. It felt normal. Comfortable. Safe.
Which was probably why none of them noticed the subtle tension that crossed Eijun’s face when they moved toward the indoor batting cages later that afternoon. The moment he heard the metallic clicking of the pitching machines powering on, his shoulders stiffened.
It was small. Barely noticeable. Nobody paid attention. After all, pitching machines weren’t exactly unusual during practice. But Eijun hated them. Not because they were hard to bat against. Not because of the speed.
But because sometimes—only sometimes—the older machines made sounds too sharp.
Too sudden.
Too much like something he desperately wanted to forget. He had gotten good at hiding it. Most of the time, he simply avoided standing too close whenever the machines were used. Nobody noticed anyway.
Today, unfortunately, fate hated him. The indoor facility buzzed with activity. Batting practice had already started. The smell of sweat, dirt, and machine oil filled the air while balls slammed violently into nets.
Eijun bounced lightly on his feet near the entrance, forcing his usual grin onto his face.
“Oi, Haruichi! You better not out-hit me today!”
Haruichi smiled softly. “I think that’s impossible, Sawamura-kun.”
“HEY!”
Miyuki rolled his eyes. “Can you stop yelling for five minutes?”
“NO!”
“Thought so.”
Everything was normal. Until the machine broke. It happened in less than a second. A batter stepped into the cage. The machine whirred loudly. Then—
BANG.
The noise exploded through the gym. Sharp. Violent. Wrong. The entire room paused. Sparks burst from the machine. Someone cursed. Another player shouted for it to be turned off.
But Eijun heard none of it.
Because suddenly he wasn’t at Seidou anymore. He was eight years old again. The smell hit him first.
Gunpowder.
Sweat.
Fear.
His mother’s hand crushed painfully around his wrist as she dragged him down toward the floor.
“Don’t look!”
Someone screamed. Another gunshot rang through the bank.
BANG.
The memory slammed into him so hard his knees nearly gave out. The fluorescent lights above the batting cage blurred violently. His chest tightened.
No.
No no no—
Not here.
Not now.
“Sawamura?” Miyuki’s voice sounded impossibly far away.
Eijun stumbled backward. The machine sparked again.
BANG.
And suddenly he could see it all. The robber was screaming. The terrified customers were lying on the ground. A man trying to shield his daughter. The gun firing.
Blood. So much blood.
Eijun’s lungs stopped working. Air wouldn’t come. His heartbeat crashed painfully against his ribs while panic consumed him whole.
“Sawamura!”
Someone grabbed his arm. Eijun flinched violently away. The reaction shocked everyone. Sawamura never pulled away from touch. Never looked terrified of his teammates.
But now his eyes were wide and glassy with pure panic. He dropped to his knees. His breathing became sharp, shallow gasps. Too fast.
He clawed desperately at his chest like he could physically rip the terror out of himself.
Kuramochi’s grin vanished instantly. “Oi—oi, what the hell?”
“H-Hey,” Kanemaru stammered. “Is he hurt?”
Miyuki crouched immediately in front of Eijun.
“Sawamura.”
No response.
Eijun’s eyes weren’t focused. They stared through him. At something only he could see. Another broken breath escaped him. “…don’t…”
Miyuki frowned. “Don’t what?”
Eijun shook violently. “…please don’t shoot…”
Silence crushed the room. Every player froze. Miyuki’s expression changed instantly.
Fear.
Real fear.
Coach Kataoka entered moments later after hearing the commotion, Rei hurrying beside him. The second they saw Eijun, both stopped dead.
Because unlike the others— they understood.
Months ago, during admission reviews, they had both read the confidential report attached to Sawamura Eijun’s file.
Elementary school. Witness to armed bank robbery. Direct exposure to gun violence. Civilian casualty witnessed at close range. Symptoms of severe trauma noted afterward.
At the time, Eijun had seemed cheerful enough that they assumed he had recovered. Clearly, they had been wrong.
“Sawamura.” Kataoka’s voice remained calm and firm.
Eijun didn’t react. His breathing bordered on choking now.
Rei knelt slowly beside him. “Eijun-kun, listen to me.” At her gentle tone, his eyes flickered.
“You’re at Seidou,” she said softly. “You’re safe.”
Another shaky gasp.
“That sound wasn’t a gun.”
Tears suddenly spilled down Eijun’s face. Humiliation burned through him. He couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t escape the memory.
Miyuki stared at him helplessly. He had never seen Sawamura like this. Never seen him broken like this. Not even when the pitcher got the yips was he this disturbed.
The loud idiot who constantly smiled and screamed suddenly looked painfully fragile. And something inside Miyuki’s chest twisted hard.
Kataoka carefully rested one hand against the back of Eijun’s head.
“Breathe with me.”
Slow.
Controlled.
Steady.
But Eijun’s body had already reached its limit. His vision darkened. The panic consumed everything. Then he collapsed forward unconscious.
“Sawamura!”
Miyuki caught him before he hit the floor. The gym fell silent. Eijun lay limp in his arms, trembling faintly even while unconscious. Miyuki swallowed hard. For some reason, seeing him like this hurt. Far more than it should have.
When Eijun woke up, the first thing he noticed was the smell of antiseptic.
The second thing he noticed was Kuramochi sitting beside his bed glaring like he personally wanted to murder someone.
“…Mo—Mochi-senpai?”
Kuramochi immediately leaned forward. “You awake, idiot?”
Eijun blinked slowly. The infirmary ceiling came into focus. Then memory hit him.
The machine.
The sound.
The panic.
His face drained of color instantly.
“…everyone saw?” he whispered.
Kuramochi’s expression softened unexpectedly. “Yeah.”
Eijun closed his eyes. Humiliation crashed over him violently.
“Great. Fantastic. Now everyone knows how weak I am. How pathetic. How broken.”,thought the southpaw depressed.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
Kuramochi frowned. “Why the hell are you apologizing?”
“I caused trouble.”
“You had a panic attack, dumbass. That’s not ‘causing trouble.’”
Eijun laughed weakly. “Still embarrassing though.”
“Shut up.”
The immediate response surprised him enough to look up. Kuramochi crossed his arms tightly. “You scared the hell out of everyone.”
There was genuine anger beneath his words. Not at Eijun. At the situation. At the fact that Eijun had suffered alone.
“…you don’t have to babysit me,” Eijun muttered quietly.
“Too bad. I already decided I’m adopting you as my annoying little brother. Somebody needs to take care of you since you obviously can’t.”
“What?!”
“Congratulations.”
“Mochi-senpai, that’s terrifying!”
Kuramochi smirked faintly. The tension eased just slightly. Then the infirmary door opened. Miyuki stepped inside. The moment their eyes met, Eijun immediately looked away. Shame twisted painfully in his stomach.
He didn’t want Miyuki seeing him like this. Weak.
Miyuki remained unusually quiet as he approached the bed.
“You feeling okay?” The softness in his voice startled Eijun.
“…fine.”
“You passed out.”
“Still alive though!”
“Barely.”
Normally Miyuki would have smirked after saying that. This time he didn’t. The serious expression on his face made Eijun uncomfortable.
Kuramochi noticed immediately. And because he had unofficially decided to become Eijun’s aggressive older brother approximately twenty minutes ago, his protective instincts activated instantly.
“He needs rest,” Kuramochi said sharply.
Miyuki blinked. “I was just checking on him.”
“Yeah, well, don’t stress him out.”
Eijun stared between them in confusion.
“…why are you acting like my mother?”
“Because apparently somebody has to.”
“Mochi-senpai!”
Miyuki narrowed his eyes slightly. “You’re being weirdly overprotective.”
“And?”
“And it’s annoying.”
“Good.”
Eijun buried his face in his blanket. This was horrible. Absolutely horrible.
The next few days were awkward. Actually, awkward was an understatement. Everyone treated Eijun differently. Too carefully. Too gently. Like they were afraid he would shatter. Which honestly made everything worse. Even the usually blunt Zono hesitated before raising his voice around him. Haruichi watched him constantly with quiet concern. Kanemaru jumped every time Eijun looked tired.
And Kuramochi? Kuramochi became unbearable.
“Why are you following me?” Eijun demanded while walking toward class.
“To make sure you don’t collapse again.”
“I collapsed one time!”
“One traumatic breakdown is enough, thanks. I don’t need more heartattacks.”
“I’m not dying!”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Eijun groaned loudly. Meanwhile, Miyuki had become strangely distant. Not cold. Just… quieter. Thoughtful. He still caught for Eijun during practice. Still teased him occasionally.
But there were moments where Eijun would glance up and catch Miyuki staring. Not mockingly. Not critically. Just watching him with an unreadable expression. It made Eijun nervous. Because Miyuki Kazuya was hard enough to understand normally. Now he felt impossible.
The truth was, Miyuki himself didn’t understand what he was feeling. Seeing Sawamura collapse had shaken him deeply. Far deeper than it should have. He kept replaying the image in his head. Sawamura trembling, crying. Begging someone not to shoot.
And every single time, Miyuki felt sick. Protective. Angry. Terrified. He hated it. Not because the feelings existed. But because he finally understood what they meant.
“You look constipated.”
Miyuki glanced sideways. Kuramochi stood beside him outside the dorms holding sports drinks.
“Thanks,” Miyuki deadpanned.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Bullshit.”
Miyuki sighed. Kuramochi leaned against the wall beside him. “…you care about him.”
Miyuki froze slightly. Kuramochi smirked without humor. “Thought so.”
“I care about all my pitchers.”
“Not like this.”
Silence.
Miyuki looked toward the baseball field where Eijun loudly argued with Furuya over who got more cafeteria bread. His chest hurt unexpectedly.
“…I don’t know what to do with it,” he admitted quietly.
Kuramochi stared at him for a long moment. Then sighed. “Well. Don’t hurt him.”
Miyuki blinked. “Excuse me?”
Kuramochi pointed threateningly.
“That idiot trusts people too easily despite everything. So if you’re going to figure out whatever emotional crisis you’re having, do it carefully.”
“…you really did decide you’re his older brother.”
“Damn right.”
Miyuki laughed softly despite himself. Then his expression faded.
“…he looked terrified.”
Kuramochi’s face darkened. “Yeah.”
“I’ve never seen him like that.”
“None of us have.”
For a moment both stood silently. Watching Eijun laugh too loudly under the evening sky. As if trying desperately to prove to everyone he was okay.
The nightmares started three nights later. At first, Eijun thought nobody noticed. He should have known better.
“SAWAMURA!”
Eijun jolted awake violently. His breathing came in panicked gasps. The dorm room was dark except for moonlight filtering through the curtains. Kuramochi stood beside his bed looking alarmed. “You okay?!”
Eijun blinked rapidly. His shirt clung damply to his skin. Right. Another nightmare.
“…sorry,” he whispered.
Kuramochi frowned deeply. “You were crying.”
Eijun looked away immediately. Humiliation burned through him. “I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.”
The mattress dipped suddenly. Eijun startled as Kuramochi sat beside him. For several seconds neither spoke. Then Kuramochi sighed heavily. “…you don’t have to pretend around me, you know.”
That almost broke him. Because Eijun had spent years pretending. Pretending loud noises didn’t bother him. Pretending he wasn’t afraid. Pretending he was normal. His throat tightened painfully.
“…I hate it,” he admitted quietly.
Kuramochi remained silent.
“I hate being scared all the time.”
The confession felt ugly. Weak. But once the words started, they wouldn’t stop.
“I thought I got over it after elementary school,” Eijun whispered. “But sometimes loud noises still…”
His hands shook. “…I still remember everything.”
Kuramochi’s expression softened. “What happened?”
Eijun swallowed hard. Then slowly explained. The bank robbery. The screaming. The gunshots. The man who died. How his mother shielded him while blood spread across the floor only a few feet away. How afterward every sharp noise made him panic. How he learned to smile louder so nobody would notice.
By the end, Eijun’s voice shook badly. “…pathetic, right?”
Kuramochi immediately smacked the back of his head.
“OW!”
“Don’t say stupid shit.”
Eijun blinked. Kuramochi looked furious. “You were a kid.”
The simple statement hit harder than expected.
“You survived something horrible,” Kuramochi continued. “That doesn’t make you pathetic.”
Eijun stared at him silently. Then, to his horror, tears started falling again.
“Oh no,” Kuramochi groaned immediately. “Don’t cry. I’m bad at emotional support.”
“S-sorry—”
“Stop apologizing too!”
Eijun laughed weakly through his tears. And for the first time in years, the fear felt slightly lighter.
Things slowly improved after that. Not perfectly. But better. Kuramochi became aggressively protective in increasingly ridiculous ways. He chased teammates away whenever they startled Eijun unexpectedly. Threatened Kanemaru for slamming a locker too loudly. Nearly murdered a first year student for sneaking up behind Eijun during evening practice.
“Mochi-senpai,” Eijun complained one afternoon, “you’re treating me like I’m made of glass.”
Kuramochi scoffed. “No, if you were made of glass you’d be less annoying.”
“That’s so mean!”
“But accurate.”
Despite his complaints, Eijun secretly appreciated it. Because for once someone noticed when he was struggling.
Even Miyuki began changing. Subtly. Quietly. But undeniably.
He stopped teasing Eijun whenever the pitcher startled at sudden noises. Stayed closer during batting practice. Watched him carefully whenever the pitching machines were active.
And one evening, after practice ended late, Miyuki found Eijun alone in the bullpen. The southpaw sat curled against the fence staring at the ground.
Miyuki frowned slightly. “Sawamura?”
Eijun flinched before forcing a grin. “Ah! Miyuki Kazuya! Here to witness the greatness of your future ace?”
“…you okay?”
The gentle question caught Eijun off guard. His smile faltered. “…yeah.”
Miyuki sat beside him. For several moments neither spoke.
Then Miyuki quietly asked, “Do the nightmares happen often?”
Eijun stiffened. “…Kuramochi told you?”
“He was worried.”
Of course he was. That overprotective menace.
Eijun sighed. “…sometimes.”
Miyuki watched him carefully. “You should’ve told someone sooner.”
Eijun laughed softly. “And say what? ‘Hi guys, loud noises make me relive childhood trauma’?”
“Yes.”
The immediate answer startled him. Miyuki’s expression remained serious. “You don’t have to handle everything alone.”
Something warm and painful twisted inside Eijun’s chest. Because Miyuki rarely spoke gently. And somehow that made moments like this mean more.
“…you’re weirdly nice lately,” Eijun mumbled.
Miyuki smirked faintly. “Don’t get used to it.”
Too late.
The realization hit Eijun slowly. Dangerously slowly. At first, he simply enjoyed Miyuki’s attention. Then he started seeking it out. Looking for him during meals. Feeling disappointed when Miyuki skipped practice. Blushing whenever their hands brushed while exchanging baseballs.
Which was ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Because this was Miyuki Kazuya. The annoying genius catcher who laughed at him constantly. The upperclassman who flirted with girls effortlessly. The person Eijun admired more than anyone.
…oh.
Oh no.
“Nope,” Eijun whispered to himself one evening. “Absolutely not.”
“What’s absolutely not?” Haruichi asked innocently.
“NOTHING!”
Haruichi blinked. Eijun immediately fled. Unfortunately, denying feelings did not actually make them disappear. If anything, they got worse.
Especially after Miyuki started touching him more casually. A hand on his shoulder. Fingers brushing through his hair after a good pitch. A lazy grin directed only at him. Eijun thought he might genuinely die.
Kuramochi figured it out immediately.
“You idiots are unbelievable.”
Eijun nearly choked on his drink. “W-WHAT?!”
“You’re both in love and somehow neither of you realizes the other feels the same.”
“I AM NOT IN LOVE!”
Kuramochi stared flatly. “…Sawamura. You literally smile every time Miyuki enters a room.”
Eijun froze. “…I do?”
“Yes. It’s disgusting.”
“Oh my god.”
“And Miyuki stares at you like someone kicked his puppy whenever you look sad.”
“…OH MY GOD.”
Kuramochi rubbed his temples. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”
The second panic attack happened during a practice game. Not as severe. But enough. A metal tray crashed loudly in the dugout. The sharp bang made Eijun freeze instantly. His breathing hitched. The world tilted dangerously.
Before panic could fully consume him, someone grabbed his wrist firmly. Miyuki. “Look at me.”
Eijun’s eyes snapped toward him.
“You’re here,” Miyuki said steadily. “You’re okay.”
The grounding certainty in his voice cut through the spiraling fear.
“Breathe slowly.”
Eijun obeyed shakily.
In.
Out.
Again.
Miyuki stayed close the entire time. Never letting go. Eventually the panic eased. Eijun sagged slightly in relief.
“…sorry,” he whispered.
Miyuki frowned. “You apologize too much.”
Eijun laughed weakly. “Habit.”
Miyuki stared at him for a long moment. Then quietly said, “You don’t have to be embarrassed around me.”
That simple sentence nearly shattered him. Because Eijun had spent years terrified, people would look at him differently if they knew.
Weak. Fragile. Broken. But Miyuki looked at him exactly the same.
No. Actually, softer. Warmer. Like he cared.
And maybe that was the problem. Because Eijun cared too much now.
The confession happened accidentally. Which honestly suited them. It was late. Rain hammered against the dorm windows while most of the team slept. Eijun sat awake in the common room unable to rest after another nightmare.
He stared blankly at his untouched tea.
“…can’t sleep?”
Eijun startled. Miyuki stood nearby wearing sweatpants and an old Seidou shirt.
“…you scared me.”
“Sorry.”
Miyuki sat beside him. For a while only rain filled the silence.
Then Eijun spoke quietly. “…do you ever get tired?”
“Of what?”
“Pretending.”
Miyuki looked at him carefully. Eijun laughed weakly.
“I’m always loud. Always smiling. Always acting stupid because if I stop…” His voice faltered. “…I start remembering things.”
Miyuki’s chest tightened painfully. Without thinking, he reached over and took Eijun’s hand. The pitcher froze.
“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Miyuki said softly.
The sincerity in his voice destroyed whatever defenses Eijun had left. Because nobody had ever said that before. Not really. His eyes burned.
“…that’s unfair,” Eijun whispered.
Miyuki frowned slightly. “What is?”
“You being nice.”
“…Sawamura.”
“I already liked you before this,” Eijun blurted suddenly. “But now it’s worse.”
Silence. Complete. Absolute. Eijun’s brain finally caught up with his mouth. Then promptly died.
“…I’m going to throw myself into traffic,” he announced weakly.
Miyuki stared. Eijun covered his face. “Oh my god.”
“Sawamura.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You definitely did.”
“I can’t hear you!”
Miyuki laughed softly. Warmly. Eijun peeked through his fingers. Miyuki looked strangely relieved.
“…you like me?” Eijun asked cautiously.
Miyuki sighed.
“Unfortunately.”
“THAT’S YOUR RESPONSE?!”
“You’re loud, dramatic, emotionally exhausting—”
“Miyuki Kazuya!”
“—and I’m ridiculously in love with you.”
Eijun stopped breathing. The rain outside suddenly sounded distant.
“…what?”
Miyuki looked almost embarrassed. Which was horrifying because Miyuki never looked embarrassed.
“I said I’m in love with you.”
Eijun’s entire face exploded red.
“OH.”
“Very eloquent response.”
“You can’t just SAY that!”
“I literally just did.”
Eijun made a strangled noise. Miyuki laughed again before gently pulling Eijun’s hands away from his face. His expression softened.
“Hey.”
Eijun stared at him.
“You’re safe here,” Miyuki said quietly. “Okay?”
Something inside Eijun finally loosened. Years of fear. Loneliness. Pretending. And before he could overthink it, he leaned forward. Miyuki met him halfway. The kiss was soft.
Nothing like the overwhelming panic Eijun expected love to feel like. Instead it felt warm. Steady. Safe.
When they pulled apart, Eijun looked dazed. “…wow.”
Miyuki smirked slightly. “That good?”
“Shut up.”
Miyuki laughed quietly. Then pulled Eijun against his side. For once, Eijun didn’t feel the need to hide.
Naturally, the team found out almost immediately. Mostly because Eijun was physically incapable of acting normal.
“You’re smiling like a psychopath,” Kuramochi informed him during breakfast.
“I don’t know what you mean!”
“Miyuki, stop staring at him before he combusts.”
“I’m not staring.”
“You absolutely are.”
Haruichi smiled knowingly into his tea.
Furuya blinked slowly. “Are Sawamura and Miyuki-senpai dating?”
Eijun choked violently. Miyuki casually handed him water.
Kuramochi groaned loudly. “I hate all of you.”
Despite his complaints, however, Kuramochi looked relieved. Because Eijun smiled differently now. Softer. More genuine. And the nightmares slowly became easier to survive. Not gone. Probably never completely gone. But now Eijun wasn’t alone when they happened.
Sometimes Kuramochi bullied him into sleeping again afterward. Sometimes Miyuki quietly held his hand until his breathing steadied. And little by little, the fear lost some of its power. One evening after practice, Eijun stood alone near the field watching the sunset.
The sound of a pitching machine echoed faintly nearby. He still flinched slightly. But he didn’t panic. Strong arms wrapped around his waist from behind.
“You okay?” Miyuki murmured.
Eijun leaned back against him. “…yeah.”
And for the first time in a very long time, he truly meant it. Because healing wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t easy. But surrounded by teammates who cared, an overprotective pseudo-brother, and the catcher he loved—
Eijun finally realized he didn’t have to carry the fear alone anymore.