Archive of Our Own

Sawamura Eijun didn’t know what the right thing to do was.

The class journal was pressed tightly against his chest, its hard cover digging into him enough to hurt. The ribbon bookmark hanging from the spine fluttered in the wind and had already slapped him across the face several times.

But Sawamura Eijun didn’t dare change position.

He was crouched behind a waist-high hedge, peering through a gap in the leaves toward the other side. He had been holding the awkward pose for so long that even his naturally flexible joints had begun to protest, only to be forcibly suppressed by their owner:

A crisp white shirt was neatly tucked into black slacks. Slightly long brown hair rested quietly against the back of his neck, and when the breeze passed, a small section of the black arm of his glasses appeared behind one ear.

If Sawamura leaned out just a little farther, he would be able to see the beautiful upperclasswoman standing opposite Miyuki Kazuya: she was bent forward with her head lowered, both arms stretched out as she offered him an envelope.

The leaves in front of him knocked into one another, blocking Sawamura’s view. Desperate, he leaned forward a little more, narrowing his eyes to see better.

But the wind was simply too strong.

The upperclasswoman’s carefully styled curls swept through the air in a graceful arc, brushing lightly over Miyuki’s right hand as he accepted the envelope. Then her face broke into an expression of pure happiness, and she stepped closer to him of her own accord.

She rose onto her toes, one hand lifting slightly, as if she were about to touch the boy’s face.

Sawamura quickly lowered his eyes and stared at the chestnut-colored ribbon attached to the class journal. He reached up, pressed it flat against the back cover, and held it there.

Sasaki-sensei was going to get impatient waiting.

The thought appeared out of nowhere, and Sawamura immediately began trying to construct Sasaki-sensei’s exasperated face in his mind. It was a face he saw every single day, yet now it blurred into an indistinct patch of white. Sawamura couldn’t picture Sasaki-sensei at all.

He felt the stiffness in his knees, gave himself a silent “heave-ho, heave-ho” for encouragement, gripped one corner of the class journal, and slowly stood up.

“...I hope we can work well together from now on, Miyuki-kun...” The sweet female voice drifted closer. “When are you usually free?”

“The team’s day off is Sunday. I’m free all day...”

The wind lifted the bangs from Miyuki’s forehead. Sawamura raised his head against it and looked at the exposed side of Miyuki’s face.

Hey, Miyuki-senpai.

Why are your eyes red?

“Sawamura-kun, are you okay? You seem kind of out of it today.” Satou sat across from Sawamura with her chin propped in one hand, asking anxiously.

“Ahahahahaha! Yours truly is extremely energetic right now!”

“Really? But your dark circles are awful.”

“Uh... there are reasons for that. Hiss—” Sawamura suddenly seemed to think of something. He leaned closer with both hands supporting his chin and lowered his voice. “Satou-san, haven’t you read a whole, whole, whole lot of shoujo manga?”

“I wouldn’t say a whole lot...” Satou bashfully twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “But probably twice as much as Sawamura-kun? Mm, maybe three times.”

“...That much! As expected of Satou-san!”

“Does Sawamura-kun want to borrow some new manga from me?”

“No, it’s...”

Satou rarely saw Sawamura act this hesitant. Her hands unconsciously curled into fists as she sent him a gaze full of encouragement.

“...It’s... yours truly has something I would like to ask your advice about...” Sawamura’s head sank lower and lower. The hands that had been propping up his chin moved to the back of his head, mussing a great deal of his brown hair.

“Mm-hm! If Sawamura-kun trusts me enough to ask, then I’ll do everything I can to help!”

“...Are you free at lunch? There are too many people in the classroom right now. Yours truly can’t say it here...”

“Of course! Do you need to tell Kanemaru-kun?”

“Oh, right, right! Thank you, Angel Satou-san!” A smile returned to Sawamura’s face, and he sprang to his feet before running toward the back of the classroom.

“Oh, just Satou-san is fine. ‘Angel’ doesn’t really suit me,” Satou said, watching Sawamura go with a pleased expression before turning to apologize to her friends. “I won’t be eating lunch with you guys today. Sorry, sorry~”

“That’s all right, Angel-kun~”

“Oh, come on, now you’re copying Sawamura-kun too!”

————

“Um, Sawamura-kun, why are we eating lunch here?”

Satou followed behind Sawamura into a secluded corner of campus. It looked like a place the groundskeepers had forgotten about. There were trees, grass, hedges, all the landscaping elements one would expect, but they had gone untended and there was nothing particularly pretty about it.

Sawamura took out a handkerchief and spread it directly over the stone path, respectfully inviting Satou to sit.

She gave the hedge branches right beside her a troubled look, then carefully sat sideways. Sawamura immediately sat down next to her, tore open the wrapper of his curry bread, and asked around a mouthful, “Satou-san, if there’s a boy and a girl over there”—he pointed through a gap in the hedge toward the open space on the other side—“talking alone. And the girl gives him a letter, and the boy accepts it. What do you think that means?”

“A confession.” Satou opened her lunchbox, picked up a piece of tamagoyaki, and answered decisively.

“Cough, cough!” Sawamura thumped his chest with his left hand and took quite a while to recover. “There’s no other possibility?”

“If it were two girls, it could maybe be a declaration of war. But if it’s a boy and a girl...”

Satou’s eyes lit up. “Oh! If they both like the same person, then a declaration of war isn’t impossible!”

“No, no, no! Cap—uh, no, the girl looked really happy when the boy accepted the letter. If they were romantic rivals declaring war on each other, she wouldn’t act like that!”

“Then it was a confession.” Satou picked up an octopus sausage and delivered the final verdict.

“No, no, no, that can’t be it. There has to be some other reason... Satou-san, you’ve read so much shoujo manga. There has to be some plotline that fits this situation!” Sawamura held his curry bread, which had only one bite taken out of it, in both hands and waited with bated breath.

“Sawamura-kun, shoujo manga plots don’t necessarily line up with reality, so yes, there could definitely be other possibilities.”

Sawamura’s eyes brightened.

“But if we’re talking strictly about the world of shoujo manga, then a boy and a girl alone together, giving and accepting a letter, and both in a good mood... there’s about an eighty percent chance the confession succeeded.”

Sawamura’s eyes dimmed.

“Then... Satou-san, what do you think it means if the boy’s eyes were really red when he left?”

“He’d been crying, probably. Tears of joy?”

Sawamura bit his lip. The edge of his curry bread had already been crushed flat into a pancake.

Satou put down her chopsticks and sighed. “Sawamura-kun, what answer are you hoping I’ll give you?”

“Mmmmmm... just... something that isn’t a confession...”

“Would a rejected confession work?”

“That... maybe... WAAAAAAH! Yours truly doesn’t know either! I really caused you a lot of trouble today, Satou-san!” Sawamura grabbed the curry bread wrapper and bowed deeply to her, then turned and ran off at full speed without waiting for a response, disappearing at the end of the path in no time.

“Ah, I’ll wash his handkerchief at home before giving it back,” Satou said, picking up a cherry tomato. “This place is pretty peaceful. I wonder how he even found it...”

————

“Hey, Sawamura. Your pitches have gotten worse these past few days. Get some proper rest and recover, got it?”

Sawamura glared at the bastard four-eyes in front of him, who had stopped after catching only twenty of his pitches, and complained loudly, “How have they gotten worse?! Every single pitch went into the mitt properly!”

“Tch.” Miyuki took off his catcher’s mitt and looked down as he spread open the stitching to inspect it. “I can feel it when I catch for you. Besides, those dark circles are so huge it’d be harder not to notice them.”

“Aaagh, you’re so annoying! This is all your fault!”

“? What does this have to do with me?” Miyuki tucked the mitt under one arm, took Sawamura’s left hand, and expertly pressed along his fingers before moving up to his forearm and elbow. “Your arm seems fine. Just to be safe, do two extra sets of your maintenance exercises when you get back.”

“None of your business!” Sawamura yanked his hand free and stepped several paces back, wrapping his right arm around his left.

“Sawamura.” Miyuki’s voice dropped. The serious look on his face instantly cowed Sawamura. “There’s a limit to how much you can throw a tantrum. I’m not putting a pitcher in a game when he’s in bad condition.”

“...Miyuki-senpai.”

“Yeah?”

“If yours truly gets back into good condition, will you catch for me tomorrow?”

“I have plans tomorrow. Also, are you sure one night is enough to fix whatever’s going on with you?”

“What about the morning? What about at night?” Sawamura shuffled a little closer.

“You want me to catch for you that badly?” Miyuki arched a brow, the corner of his mouth curling upward. “Ask me again once you’ve recovered, idiot.”

“Hmph! This is all your fault in the first place! And don’t call me an idiot! Miyuki Kazuya!!”

“Hahahahaha, I’m heading out. Go to bed early, idiot~”

Miyuki waved and strode out of the indoor practice field with his back to Sawamura. The evening breeze blew in through the open doors, and at the exact moment Miyuki left, it lifted the brown strands hiding the black frames of his glasses.

Sawamura suddenly felt his eyes sting.

He blinked. The tiny bit of moisture gathering at the corners of his eyes dried almost immediately in the wind, leaving behind barely visible tracks.

The next morning, their day off.

The weather was good. Sunlight spilled intermittently from behind the clouds, warm against the skin.

Sawamura had already finished twenty sprints with his tire. He tugged at his collar, hesitated for a long moment, then set the tire aside and headed toward Room 5.

“What’d you forget this time?” Kuramochi asked without turning around, his fingers swiping and tapping rapidly over his phone screen.

“Ah, it’s kind of hot today, so yours truly thought it’d be more convenient to bring a few extra compression shirts.”

“Don’t use them all today and forget to wash them, then end up with nothing to wear tomorrow.”

“The great Sawamura would never do something like that!”

“Tch, no respect for your seniors.” The words FIRST BLOOD appeared on the screen. Kuramochi adjusted his posture and added casually, “I’m going out this afternoon. If you get sleepy, come back and take a nap. You keep walking around with those dark circles, people are gonna think I’m bullying you.”

“Mm... this, this really is yours truly’s own problem... What are you going out to do this afternoon, Cheetah-sama?”

A burst of intense game sound effects rang out.

“Don’t ask about your senpai’s schedule. Go, go, get back to training. I don’t have time to talk to you right now.”

“Eeeh—”

Sawamura hugged several compression shirts to his chest and shut the door with a click. Just as he was about to head toward the practice field, a gust of wind rushed toward him and nearly blew away the top shirt.

Fortunately, Sawamura reacted quickly and grabbed the royal-blue sleeve before stuffing it back against his chest. But the movement also turned his gaze, inevitably bringing that person into view:

Miyuki Kazuya, wearing no black-rimmed glasses, dressed in a plain white T-shirt and jeans.

He raised a hand to shield the side of his face from the wind. The smooth lines of muscle along his arm stood out clearly beneath the sunlight, and the breeze even lifted the hem of his shirt slightly, exposing a narrow strip of waist.

“Hey, Sawamura—”

Miyuki noticed him staring and walked over against the wind. “What are you doing with that many compression shirts?”

“Uh... it’s pretty hot today, right? I don’t want to keep going back to the dorm to change, so I figured I’d just bring them all out...” Sawamura stared without blinking at the rare, glasses-less version of Miyuki Kazuya.

“Ridiculous. Ever heard of balancing work and rest? If you still haven’t gotten yourself back into shape, I’m not catching for you tomorrow.”

“How can you do that?! The rotation was decided ages ago!” Sawamura frowned and protested loudly.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s decided. So figure out what you should be doing today.”

Miyuki delivered the verdict with complete certainty, slid one hand into his pocket, and coolly walked out of Seishin Dorm, leaving Sawamura behind with his shirts in his arms and his head lowered, lost in thought.

The sunlight grew brighter.

Blazing light pierced through the gap in the curtains, laying a white ripple across the floor.

Sawamura rolled over. After thinking about it, he pulled the blanket higher and covered his head.

See?

There was no way he could fall asleep.

He should just get up and practice shadow pitching instead.

The air beneath the blanket was stuffy. With a swish, Sawamura flung it down, then spread both arms out to either side.

He stared blankly at the ceiling. When his right hand dropped, it met the wall, and the cold sensation made his fingers curl slightly.

Wind slipped through the crack in the window, lifting the curtain so it tapped softly against something.

His eyelids felt heavy.

Little by little, Sawamura closed his eyes, opened them, then closed them again.

Before long, even breathing filled Room 5.

Sawamura woke because he was hungry.

Outside the window, the last light of evening was fading. The practice field lights were already on, shining through the glass and laying a pale glow over everything in the room.

Yawning, Sawamura walked into the cafeteria and immediately spotted Kuramochi sitting in front of the television. “Good evening, Cheetah-sama—”

“Mm. Go eat.”

“Okay—(yawn)—”

“If you’re still sleepy after eating, go back to bed. Got it?”

“Yes, sir—”

He gave the cafeteria lady a dazed smile, picked up his tray, stumbled to the nearest seat, lowered his head, and pecked at his food one bite at a time like a chick.

“...Miyuki’s not coming to dinner?”

“Said he already ate outside. Came back, grabbed his bat, and disappeared.”

Today’s curry was a little spicy. Sawamura picked up his water and drank, but it still burned enough to make him breathe rapidly, and perhaps because of that, he finally woke up completely.

Miyuki-senpai was already back?

Then after he finished eating, could he go ask Miyuki to catch for him?

He downed another mouthful of water and sped up, shoveling down his food. Not long after, he shouted a loud “Thank you for the meal!” and handed his empty tray back to the cafeteria lady.

“Idiotmura, you’re not going back to sleep?”

“Thanks to you, yours truly is no longer sleepy in the slightest! I’m off!”

“Huh?” Kuramochi lowered his propped-up leg, phone still in hand, and followed Sawamura out of the cafeteria. “What’s gotten into him?”

“Huff, huff...”

Sawamura jogged up the familiar stone steps toward the figure concentrating on his swings. “Miyuki Kazuya—”

The jeans from that morning had been replaced with sweatpants, though he was still wearing the same white T-shirt. His usual sports goggles were back on, and the metal bat cut sharp sounds through the air, one swing after another.

Sawamura slowed down and stopped where he wouldn’t interfere with Miyuki’s swing. “Yours truly took a nap this afternoon and feels especially energetic now! Cap, come catch for me!”

“Oh?”

Miyuki’s body paused for a second at the end of his follow-through. Then he lowered the bat to the ground and looked Sawamura directly in the eye under the practice-field lights. “Come closer. Let me see.”

Sawamura pursed his lips slightly, widened his eyes, and hopped right in front of him.

Crap.

This might be a little too close.

He unconsciously drew in a deep breath, then held it, not daring to move.

“Nope.” Miyuki drew the word out, his voice dripping with an infuriating smile. “Still not enough. If you go back and actually fall asleep now, I’ll catch your pitches first thing tomorrow. How’s that?”

“You were already supposed to catch mine first tomorrow!!”

“Hahahahahahaha—yeah, yeah. Go to sleep.”

“Hmph...” Sawamura lowered his head, turned his back on him, and headed for the dorm. His steps grew longer and longer until he broke into a run.

“...Whoa! Idiotmura, are you trying to scare me to death?!”

“Sorry Kuramochi-senpai yours truly is going to sleep now good night!” He kicked off his shoes, climbed onto the bed, and immediately pulled the blanket completely over himself, both hands clutching the soft fabric hard enough to wrinkle it.

With a click, the world outside the blanket suddenly went dark. Faintly, he could hear the sound of the door closing.

Sawamura loosened his grip slightly and opened a small gap to the outside world, pressing his face near it as he greedily breathed in fresh air.

Night air was clearer than daytime air, washing through his nose with every breath, but Sawamura still felt like it wasn’t enough.

In the instant he had stood close to Miyuki Kazuya, he had been absolutely certain there was a very distinctive scent on him.

A scent Sawamura had never smelled before.

It wasn’t the hand cream the girls in his class squeezed onto the backs of their hands, nor was it soap, laundry detergent, shampoo, or body wash.

Sawamura sat up and took several deep breaths with his eyes closed, but that scent still lingered at the tip of his nose and refused to fade.

————

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (10 minutes ago): Sawamura, how have you been lately?】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (10 minutes ago): WAAAAAH MASTER!!! Yours truly is in excellent condition! Thank you for your concern!】

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (9 minutes ago): That’s good.】

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (8 minutes ago): I heard you weren’t sleeping well a while back. Is that true?】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (7 minutes ago): That did happen... but the great Sawamura has completely overcome it! Now I fall asleep the second I hit the bed!】

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (6 minutes ago): Mm. Make sure you get enough rest. And keep doing the stretches I sent you before.】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (5 minutes ago): Yours truly follows Master’s instructions strictly and does them three times after every practice!】

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (4 minutes ago): thumbs-up.jpg】

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (3 minutes ago): Are you free this Sunday? I’d like to take a look at your pitching form.】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (3 minutes ago): shiba-inu-looking-guilty.jpg】

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (2 minutes ago): If it’s inconvenient, that’s fine. We can arrange another time.】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (1 minute ago): I’m really, really sorry! Yours truly truly doesn’t want to refuse Master’s request, but I already have something else to do and I’ve gotten permission to go out...】

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (just now): Mm. Let me know when you’re free and we’ll schedule another time.】

Sawamura’s fingers flew over the screen, rapidly composing another message and sending it.

【Yours truly is free any Sunday except this one! I really, really want to see Master!! (unread)】

He looked at the thin approval slip tucked behind his phone, folded it, stuffed it into his pocket, and anxiously waited for Chris-senpai’s reply.

————

Sunday.

Under Kuramochi’s disgusted gaze, Sawamura painfully gave up on the sunglasses he had dug out from the bottom of his things, then slung his crossbody bag over one shoulder and dragged his feet out of Room 5.

He sat in the cafeteria for quite a while, finally timing it so that he followed Miyuki out of Seishin Dorm.

Miyuki Kazuya was wearing a black T-shirt and khaki cargo pants today, with his familiar black-rimmed glasses. Once he left the school gate, he turned right with practiced ease.

Sawamura glanced hesitantly up at the blazing sun, pouted, then pulled a white mask from his bag and put it on.

Oh, and the nonprescription glasses he had borrowed from Toujou at the last minute.

Sawamura narrowed his eyes to confirm that Miyuki was continuing straight ahead, then ducked into a corner, opened the front-facing camera on his phone, squeezed a blob of hair wax he had swiped from Cheetah-sama onto his hand, and slicked all of his bangs upward from the roots, fully exposing his forehead.

All right.

There was absolutely no way Miyuki Kazuya would recognize the great Sawamura’s ingenious disguise!

He nodded at his own reflection in satisfaction, put away his phone, shoved both hands into his pockets, and carefully maintained a distance of over a hundred meters from Miyuki.

The crowd around him gradually grew denser. Every so often, Sawamura had to rise onto his toes just to keep track of Miyuki.

But the next time he did, the first person he noticed wasn’t Miyuki at all.

At an intersection not far away stood a girl in an elegant long dress.

The curve of those curls.

That graceful smile aimed in Miyuki’s direction.

There was no mistaking her.

She was the beautiful upperclasswoman who had handed Miyuki Kazuya a letter—and whose letter he had accepted.

From far away, Sawamura watched Miyuki walk to her side. The two of them crossed the street shoulder to shoulder, and Miyuki even shielded her from the crowd pressing in behind them.

Unexpectedly, Sawamura didn’t feel particularly awful.

More accurately, he didn’t feel much of anything at all. Just like the day he couldn’t remember Sasaki-sensei’s face. Even now, he still couldn’t picture it.

Sorry, Sasaki-sensei. I really don’t mean to.

As Sawamura sincerely apologized to Sasaki-sensei in his heart, he murmured “Excuse me” under his breath and hurried onto the street before the pedestrian signal finished counting down.

The tangled roads and turns had already exceeded the limits of Sawamura’s memory. He absentmindedly followed the man and woman walking ahead, his thoughts wandering for no reason.

Getting back by the same route was probably impossible...

Once Miyuki-senpai finished whatever he was doing, Sawamura could just follow him back to Seidou.

He had no idea how much time passed before more and more large sculptures and strikingly designed buildings began to appear around them. Sawamura watched Miyuki and the upperclasswoman chatting and laughing as they entered a white concrete building with a pointed roof, then boldly moved closer and photographed the poster by the entrance.

Hmm...

Standing out in the sun the whole time probably wasn’t a good idea either...

Sawamura turned off his phone and looked around. His sharp eyes quickly spotted a café across the street.

And the waffles on the sign looked so fluffy.

“Hello. What can I get for you?”

“One signature waffle set! Uh...” Sawamura looked at the employee somewhat sheepishly and lowered his voice. “Excuse me, can I sit in that seat by the window?”

Three minutes later, Sawamura sat in a spot with a direct view of the white building’s entrance, pretending to be calm as he raised his lemonade and took small sips.

Ah.

He obviously had something more important to do!

He hurriedly put down the glass and switched repeatedly between his photo album and browser, typing the name of the white building in one character at a time.

When the webpage refreshed, advertisements for numerous small independent art exhibitions crowded the results, and without exception, the cold, hard lines of that white concrete building formed their backdrop.

Sawamura opened one image and swiped right.

Then right again.

Illustration exhibitions, photography exhibitions, floral art displays, red fabric, blue fabric, wings, crosses, streams of data...

“Your waffle set is here. Please enjoy it while it’s fresh.”

Sawamura picked up his knife and fork, let out a cold little huff, and slowly cut off a piece of waffle soaked through with maple syrup and cream.

Ah.

So good.

Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened. The café lit brass oil lamps, whose warm yellow glow reflected in the glass.

Sawamura grabbed the freshly served beef wrap and took huge bites. Halfway through, the doors of the white building opened again, and Miyuki-senpai and the upperclasswoman emerged one after the other, heading straight toward the café entrance.

Sawamura hurriedly shoved his clear-lens glasses up, scooted farther toward the window, and hunched down behind a tall potted plant. While the two of them were ordering, he stuffed the rest of the beef wrap into his mouth in one go, hurriedly put on his white mask, lowered his head, and secretly glanced over from the corner of his eye.

The upperclasswoman smiled as she led Miyuki to a sunken booth in the center of the café, then took an envelope from her handbag and handed it to him.

Miyuki looked a little surprised.

Like...

Like the kind of surprise that said: “You already fixed the thing I mentioned yesterday? That was fast.”

Sawamura swallowed the last bite of food, carefully tugged down his mask, quickly grabbed his glass and gulped some water, then pulled the mask back into place.

Without looking away, he watched Miyuki open the envelope and take out a large stack of photographs.

He flipped through them one by one.

His expression was focused, with hints of admiration slipping through. The corners of his mouth even lifted into a faint smile.

He actually handed one of the photographs back to the upperclasswoman of his own accord, and the two of them began discussing it directly, only setting the matter aside when the server brought their food.

Sawamura Eijun lowered his head onto his right forearm.

Under the table, his left hand lit up his phone screen and opened the navigation app.

【Set destination to: Seidou High School? Confirm / Back】

【Confirm】

————

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (5 minutes ago): shiba-inu-waving.jpg】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (5 minutes ago): Good evening, Master! Your unworthy disciple Sawamura apologizes for disturbing you so suddenly!】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (4 minutes ago): Yours truly has been experimenting with a very interesting grip these past two days and would like you to take a look!】

【LINE (The Best Master in the World!) (2 minutes ago): I’m free tomorrow evening. Does that work for you?】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (1 minute ago): Anytime works! Looking forward to seeing you!!!】

【LINE (Sawamura Eijun) (just now): shiba-inu-acting-cute.jpg】

————

“Miyuki Kazuya—”

There were still traces of sweat in Sawamura’s bangs. Without even stopping to wipe them away, he stormed into Room 11. “Yours truly learned a new pitch! Want to come catch it?!”

A pair of white sweatpants had already been tossed onto Miyuki’s bed. Miyuki himself stood in front of his open closet, sorting through T-shirts of various colors.

“Even Master caught it and said it was really good!”

“Mm-hm...”

“You really don’t want to catch it?”

“Huh? What did you just say?” Miyuki pulled out an orange-yellow printed T-shirt and looked at Sawamura as though he had only just noticed him. “Perfect timing. Take a look at this. Does this shirt go with those pants? Does it look too old?”

“...”

“Hey, hey, Sawamura. Are you listening?” Miyuki set the shirt down on the bed and walked over in confusion, even waving his right hand several times in front of Sawamura’s face.

Sawamura cleared his throat, lifted his chin, and glared at Miyuki. “Yours truly developed a new pitch! Are you going to catch it or not?! Also! That outfit is hideous!”

“I can’t tonight. I have something to do tomorrow.” Miyuki’s brows drooped as he looked regretfully at the orange pattern on the shirt. “And it’s not that ugly, is it? The arrangement is really neat and visually balanced.”

“Master caught the new pitch and said it was good! He also said he already told you about it! You have to catch for yours truly! If tonight doesn’t work, then tomorrow!” Sawamura took a step back but forced his eyes wider, to the point that their corners started to sting.

“...Now that you mention it, I think I did hear something about that.” Miyuki’s peripheral vision flicked toward Sawamura’s clenched fist. With some regret, he hung the shirt back in the closet. “If I wake up early enough, I guess I can catch for you tomorrow morning.”

“Then six-thirty in the bullpen! Don’t be late!”

“Hey, hey, isn’t six-thirty a little too early—”

“Mean tanuki should wake up early! And plain T-shirts obviously look better with white sweatpants, so stop staring at prints! Miyuki Kazuya, your fashion sense is terrible!”

“? Sawamura—”

With a bang, the door to Room 11 slammed shut hard enough to make the lights flicker.

Thump—

“Strike.”

Miyuki pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time, then walked toward Sawamura with the baseball in hand. “That pitch has really deceptive movement. If you can stabilize it enough to use in games, it’ll be a strong weapon.”

Sawamura took off his cap, eyes curving happily as he declared at full volume, “Yours truly already arranged for Kanemaru-maru to stand in as a batter yesterday! I’ll call him over right now!”

“Wait.”

Miyuki tossed the ball back into Sawamura’s arms and started taking off his gear on his own. “I have something to do in a bit. If Ono’s free, you can ask him.”

“...But in a game, Miyuki-senpai will be the one catching my pitches.”

“Ono’s really good. Don’t underestimate him.”

“...”

Miyuki unlocked his phone and clumsily typed out a reply to a message as his feet already began carrying him toward the dorm.

“Miyuki-senpai.”

“What?”

“Catch for me.”

Miyuki stopped typing and turned slightly as if to say something, but Sawamura cut him off.

“You can’t neglect polishing your baseball skills just because it’s a day off! As captain, Cap absolutely has to set a good example!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be back tonight.” Miyuki frowned, looking troubled. “How about I catch for you when I come back tonight?”

“Mmmmm...”

“I’ll bring you dessert too. Something good.” Miyuki’s phone suddenly started ringing. He barely managed to wrap up the conversation before answering. “Ah, I really have to go now. Please continue polishing your baseball skills, Sawamura-kun.”

“Hello? Yeah, right. I’ll change and come over now...”

Miyuki’s voice faded farther and farther away.

Sawamura tightened his grip around the baseball and lowered his head, lost in thought.

The evening breeze passed gently through the twilight and set the practice-field lights aglow, but it couldn’t reach Sawamura Eijun, who had deliberately crouched beneath the staircase.

When Miyuki returned to Seishin Dorm carrying a paper bag, he was genuinely startled by the sight of Sawamura with half his face hidden in the dark.

“...What are you doing here?” Miyuki adjusted his glasses, crouched across from Sawamura, and held out the bag. “Here. The dessert I promised.”

Sawamura didn’t take it immediately.

He stared at the familiar logo on the packaging and inhaled softly.

The scent of honey and milk drifted out from the opening of the bag.

“I bought the signature waffle set. The employee said you should eat it quickly or the syrup will soak too far into the waffle... Sawamura, my arm’s getting tired holding this.”

“...Thank you, Miyuki-senpai.” Sawamura mechanically raised his head, accepted the bag with both hands, and stood as if to head toward the cafeteria.

“Stop, stop!” Miyuki hurriedly grabbed him. “If they see it, they’ll ask why I didn’t bring more for everyone. That’ll be a pain! You—you can just eat it in my room. No one’s there right now anyway.”

He thought for a moment, then added, “I’m kind of tired today. Let’s skip catching tonight. I’ll catch yours first tomorrow morning instead, okay?”

Sawamura nodded messily, clutched the bag, and thundered up the stairs. He expertly pushed open the door to Room 11, leaned back against it, and slowly slid down to the floor.

He sat there blankly for quite a while, then simply crossed his legs in the darkness, opened the box, unwrapped the utensils, and dug out a large piece.

Thick cream and honey were spread evenly over the slightly cooled waffle.

The piece on his fork was too large.

Extra syrup spilled from the corner of his mouth.

Ah.

So good.

Sawamura blinked.

The excess tears filling his eyes slipped from the corners and landed on the back of the hand gripping his knife and fork, leaving faint tracks as they slid away.