Can This Be Reality? - ashla_the_daughter - ダイヤのA | Daiya no A (2024)

Chapter 1: This is Shifting

Chapter Text

You blinked lazily at a far-off voice. It seemed only moments ago you had fallen asleep and this was definitely not your alarm waking you up. You groaned, rolling your head to the other side, surprised when you felt warm sunlight grace your face. The voice persisted, going as far as to begin shaking you. You lazily swatted at them with your hand. It was a weekend and you just wanted to sleep it away.

“Y/N, Y/N, come on I have a question on the homework.”

The voice was familiar, yet you couldn’t place it. Where had you heard it before? Regardless, it was not anyone that should be in your apartment right now. That was weird, right? As little sense as it made, you still wanted to ignore it and fall back asleep. The hand, however, continued to poke and prod at your shoulder.

Rubbing your eyes, you sat up, yawning slightly and smoothing your hair out of your face. Your back hit a hard chair and you suddenly realized that you were sitting in, not your bed, but a school desk. sh*t, did I fall asleep in class!? You would have had to been out for a long time to completely forget how you even got there in the first place.

“Finally, you sleep like a rock Y/N. I need help with this English question before class starts.”

Your stomach dropped when your eyes met. Your heart began to pound painfully against your ribs. Breath seemed scarce as you tried to suck it in through your nostrils. How, how could this be? It must be a dream, a silly trick your brain wanted to play on you.

Because how in hell was the famed genius catcher of Seido, Miyuki Kazuya, from the anime Ace of Diamond standing in front of you? He smoothed his messy brown hair absentmindedly as he watched you, expecting a response. You felt the gaze behind those rectangular glasses burn into you with intensity, as if he was studying you. You took in his features, confirming that was in fact your favorite character, Miyuki, standing in front of you, conversing as if you were old pals.

“What the hell is going on?” You said aloud, taking your head in your hands and shaking it, a futile attempt to clear your brain from the fog. A moment ago, you had been falling asleep in your bed, depressed and anxious about life in general and now you were… in an anime? Was this… that shifting realities thing that everyone kept mentioning? You shook your head again, now with more veracity. No, shifting was an idea created by everyone trying to escape their sad life and escape to a better place. And, though it sounded enticing and you would certainly welcome it, it wasn’t a reality. It couldn’t be real, this… this had to be a dream.

Suddenly, Miyuki was eye level with you, crouching down by your desk. He wasn’t even attempting to hide the concern in his eyes as he touched your hand softly, dragging his fingers across your knuckles. The touch was comforting, light and you craved more of it. It seemed, slightly out of character for the “person” that you “knew”. Miyuki was always known to be a sarcastic asshole, a genius with an ego but skill to back it up. He said what he was thinking, never held back, and knew how to piss everyone off. It was actually the main reason he was your favorite character. He reminded you so much of yourself and you found comfort in the fact that people cared for him despite his flaws. Everyone at Seido knew he truly, deeply cared about his team, but he was never one to show it outwardly. It was the little moments, away from wandering eyes that he would reveal himself in such a vulnerable state. Yet here he was, brushing his fingers back and forth, concerned for your wellbeing.

“Y/N are you alright? You look really pale. Should I take you to the nurse?”

If this was a dream, why did his touch feel so… real?

You raised your head slightly, wide eyes meeting his dark ones. You found yourself getting a little lost in them, admiring how the gold flecks glinted in the sunlight. You noticed how his forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows at you. His skin was tanned to, most likely from playing in the warm sun most of the year. You smiled softly, completely lost in the study of his features. Until fingers snapped in front of your face.

“Earth to Y/n! That’s it, we’re going to the nurse. And I don’t want to hear an argument out of your stubborn ass.” He wrapped his fingers around your wrist, successfully pulling you up from your seat, you still in too much of a daze to give a fight. You smiled slightly, happy that your stubbornness was known in multiple realities. A flash of green hair passed you as you were dragged out the door.

“Where are you two going? Class will start soon, don’t want to piss Coach off.” This voice again, was so familiar. Your eyes followed it to the owner, Kuramochi Youchi.

“So, this really is happening.” You pointed at the confused shortstop. “You’re Kuramochi,” you wiggled the wrist that Miyuki was latched onto, “and this is Miyuki. And I go to school at Seido.” You giggled slightly, completely in awe at the ridiculousness of the situation. You didn’t understand any of it, but it was just so absurd, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Kuramochi and Miyuki exchanged worried glances with each other. Outwardly, you had to admit your appearance must be worrisome. From what you had gathered, in this reality, you had always existed to them. You were their classmate, possibly even their friend, and right now you were sputtering nonsense like you had a sudden case of amnesia.

“Seriously, what the hell Y/N, did you hit your head this morning at practice?” Miyuki said, adjusting his glasses to study your face closer. Practice? You must be a manager on the Seido team then? You smirked at him, the mere idea sounding like a lot of fun. What were you like in this world? What was your story? Questions buzzed around your mind as you pondered. Miyuki just stared back, completely flabbergasted at your lack of conversation and unfitting reactions.

“Take her to the nurse captain,” Kuramochi gave one final wary look in your direction before turning, “I’ll explain the situation to Sensei.” With that you were pulled out of the room, practically being dragged as Miyuki lectured you. You had gained more information though, as you half listened to him rattle on. If Miyuki was captain, that meant he and you were third years. You wondered how long it had been since he was announced captain.

“Seriously, you love to push yourself, don’t you? How many times have we told you, you can’t just blindly risk your health and safety, especially with your past injuries? Damnit, you were probably catching for Sawamura weren’t you?! You’re too soft on him! I know he’s having a hard time and all, but damn we can’t have TWO players out of commission. Did you take a ball to your goddamn THICK SKULL and then made the idiot promise not to tell anyone? At this rate, I’ll have to beat you both!” He shot a menacing look back at you as he pushed open the door to the nurse’s office. It was empty, but that seemed to be no matter for Miyuki who angrily pointed at the cot. “Sit.” He growled out the order, tossing your wrist in that general direction, leaving no room to argue.

So, Sawamura had the yips, meaning they were most likely in pre-season of Miyuki’s third year, about where you had last left off with the anime. Something was off setting to you though; the way Miyuki was lecturing you it sounded as if you were more important than a manager. And an injury? What had happened to you in this world? You fiddled your thumbs nervously, not sure how to ask the question that was plaguing your mind without raising even more suspicion that you had taken a baseball to the head.

Miyuki pulled up a stool in front of you, crouching slightly to remain at eye level. He asked you questions, gave you words to remember, checked your pupil reactions to light with a pen light. You admired him as he worked, touched that he cared enough to be so thorough, but also impressed he knew what to do to check for signs of concussion.

“Birthdate?”

You answered him cautiously, not sure if the true answer was the right one. He nodded though, signaling that you were correct. You blushed involuntarily, touched that he knew your birthdate by heart. You chose your words carefully, trying to explain the situation without actually telling the truth. You still weren’t sure what the truth was.

“Miyuki,” you began, taking note in how the catcher’s shoulders relaxed upon hearing your voice. You took pity on him, if you had seen someone acting the way you had been, you would have been more than concerned. “Sawamura didn’t hit me in the head at practice this morning.” You rubbed the back of your head, biting your lip as you began to, for lack of a better word, bullsh*t your way out of this situation. “I haven’t been feeling well, so I took some cold medicine after practice, but it’s left me kinda foggy.” You shrugged your shoulder, hoping it was enough to pass as believable. Feigning a concussion would be an absolute pain, a slight cold was much more manageable.

Miyuki’s hand raised to meet your forehead, his eyes watching you still, as if something about you still didn’t add up. After a moment, he nodded his head, dropping his hand from your forehead and turning back to the medical supply cabinet.

“You feel a bit warm. That explains why your batting average was off this morning. And your throws to warm me up weren’t as strong as usual either.” He scrutinized the cabinet, as if angry it didn’t have a miracle cure, he could give you. “I don’t want to give you anything when you’ve already taken something. Are you sure it’s just a cold?” You nodded, admittingly feeling better than you ever had in your reality. Miyuki took you at your word. “Alright then, next time, say something sooner. The team falls apart when you’re not on your game.” He ruffled your hair affectionately and you stuck out your tongue.

“The team? Or you Mr. Captain? Can’t function without me?” You grinned, excited to be able to poke fun at someone who never was the one being taunted. He glared at you, confirming that you definitely acted like your normal self in this world.

“I think that medicine is making you bold first basem*n. You should watch how you talk to the glue of Seido.” You rolled your eyes, amazed that he really was exactly how you imagined him.

“The glue?” you taunted back, “please Miyuki-senpai, the catcher does run the game, I’ll admit to that. But this girl right here replaced the position of the previous captain and would probably make a better catcher than you if the sports world wasn’t so afraid of a little girl getting hurt,” you pouted your lip for dramatic effect. Internally, you weren’t sure where your knowledge was coming from, but nothing really made sense anymore, so of course the information of your life in this reality had been downloaded into your brain. It seemed like you couldn’t access it unless it pertained to the situation though. Interesting.

“How many times have I told you, drop the senpai, honorifics. It weirds me out.” He mimicked a shudder and you laughed at how dramatic he was. You put your hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to stop it.” You smiled at him, genuinely happy for the first time in a while, your chest getting lighter with every breath you inhaled. “Can you explain one thing to me?” You watched as Miyuki’s sh*t eating grin disappeared, replaced with a co*ck of the head and confusion. He nodded. “How on earth, did I ever end up as the starting first basem*n on Seido’s MEN’s baseball team?”

Miyuki shoved your shoulder playfully, before sitting down by your side on the cot. “You just want to hear me praise you?” You pouted, unable to tell him you truly had no idea how this happened. He shook his head, sighing in slight annoyance. “Fine, but only because you’re sick.”

“Well, when you first showed up as a first year, Coach just about laughed in your face when you said you were there for tryouts, not to be a manager. I think he just let you hang around for his own sick entertainment. But damn, you outran most of the team on the first day, except for yours truly,” he puffed out his chest, earning him a smack in the arm from you. He rubbed at it, shooting you a look.

“And then your batting was above average, definitely on par with the best of us. Your throws were killer, they stung through the mit, we could have sworn you wanted to be a pitcher.” You elbowed him in the side to continue, a smile growing across your face. The memories were flooding through your brain now, playing out like a movie trailer, showing the best highlights and plays. Miyuki let out a genuine laugh at your grin.

“Coach really fought for you to join, fought the school, the association, everyone involved just to get you on the team. You were just too good for anyone to deny. And too stubborn to let it go.” He glanced at you, signaling the end of the story and for some reason, your chest swam with a heaviness that you couldn’t quite pinpoint. But you shook it off, shoving Miyuki’s shoulder slightly.

“We should head back to class, don’t want Coach catching wind of this.” You stood up, shaking out your limbs to wake them up. In that moment, you took note of how muscled you were. Your uniform skirt left your legs exposed and you couldn’t help but admire the curve of your calf muscle underneath your tights. You couldn’t see your arms hidden beneath your uniform jacket, but you could feel their strength as you flexed them.

Miyuki stood up next to you, nodding towards the door. “You good to head back to class? Or do you want to rest for a bit?” You shook your head at him, feeling better with every passing second. You headed out the door before answering, beckoning Miyuki to follow.

“I’m great, seriously, I think this break helped a lot. I honestly can’t wait for practice this afternoon too.” You smirked, wondering how good of a player you truly were to be the only female on the high school circuit, one who was good enough to impress the most stone-faced coach there ever was. You smiled at Miyuki, only to be met with a frown. Your eyebrows knit together.

“You’re not practicing tonight. You’ll sit out and watch.”

It wasn’t the sentence that infuriated you as much as the ordering tone that accompanied it, as if you didn’t have any say in the matter at all. Your eyes hardened. He continued on. “Are you kidding me? What kind of captain would I be if I let a sick, drugged up player handle a bat and a ball? Not thirty minutes ago you were acting completely mental!” He crossed his arms in front of him as he stopped outside the homeroom door. “I don’t want to hear your arguments.”

“Well, Miyuki-senpai,” you cursed out the honorific, already knowing how to get under his skin, “I don’t really care what you want to hear. I am practicing tonight. We are in pre-season; our team is in shatters after the loss of last season and the loss of our third years. Not to mention, you and I both know I have to work twenty times as hard to be acknowledged by any of the other players, teams and coaches. I’ll be damned if I sit on the sidelines for a single minute of practice. I’m vice-captain for goodness sake!” You pondered that last sentence for a minute. In the anime, a player name Zono had been named vice-captain and come to think of it, had also been the first basem*n to replace the previous captain. But you hadn’t seen him in class earlier and somehow, you didn’t think what you just said had been a lie. And what was all this about working harder?

“Yeah, you are, and you know what?” His voice raised slightly, still fighting to be a whisper but malice biting through in his tone, “a vice-captain should be an example to the team on how to take care of themselves. You pushed yourself more than enough last season and we aren’t playing this game again!” You were curious as to what he meant by last season, but you were too preoccupied with proving yourself right to ask.

“I get it, you don’t want me to push myself, but damnit Miyuki you’re not winning this one. If you’re so against it, we’ll have Coach decide it!” Your hair flipped over your shoulder as you spun around, leaving him fuming in his anger as you entered the class. You bowed your apologies to the teacher for the intrusion and took your seat. Miyuki followed in shortly after, shooting daggers at you as he took his seat in front of you. You returned them, still heated that he had the nerve to try and make decisions without your input. Kuramochi’s eyes went back and forth between the two of you, aware of the tension, but too smart to inquire about it.

As the teacher droned on about a history lesson you already knew, you melted into a deep thought. The facts were that you, F/N L/N, woke up as a third-year high school student at Seido. You were the starting first baseman and vice-captain of the Seido baseball team, having proven yourself a valuable player during your tryouts as a first year, despite the fact that you were a female. And, by far the most exciting revelation, you appeared to be a close friend of Miyuki Kazuya. This… this was going to be interesting.

Chapter 2: Feeling Like Home

Chapter Text

The school day passed fairly quickly. Much to your delight, your grades were as good, if not better, than they were back in what you had dubbed “Reality A”. In Reality B, meaning Seido, you were not only one of the top students in your third-year class, but also the go to tutor for the entire baseball team. This became apparent when Kuramochi slammed his head onto your desk after the teacher dismissed them for the day.

“Y/N,” Kuramochi whined out, putting on the largest puppy dog eyes he could muster, “can we please go over the English translations again today? You’re the only one who makes it all make sense.”

“Takes a special kind of talent to dumb it down to your level Kuramochi,” Miyuki quipped, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder and waiting for the other two to follow. You smirked at them as you placed your final book into your bag. Miyuki was definitely still pissed at you but had come to terms with the fact that it was now in the hands of Coach. You ruffled Kuramochi’s hair as you passed.

“Of course, we can go over it as many times as you need Mochi.” You had learned quickly that you often held study halls for the team, taking in everyone who needed assistance. You slowly began to remember the details; that you tackled them in groups of 4, your most difficult yet necessary group being: Furuya, Sawamura, Kuromochi, and Miyuki.

Miyuki, by no means, actually needed to be in that group, scoring marks that trailed just slightly behind your own. However, he would gather into Kuramochi’s and Sawamura’s dorm just like everyone else, sitting quietly at the desk while he worked, occasionally asking you a question or for your opinion on phrasing. You had chalked it up to him wanting to set a good example for his teammates, possibly mixed with a prime opportunity for teasing the three relentlessly.

You waved to the girls in your class as you passed their desks, following the boys out into the hall. They had asked you to go to karaoke with them, but you denied due to the fact that you had practice. Apparently, it had not been the first time you had politely declined, which was evident on their crestfallen faces as you once again said no. They claimed you only had time for the boys and, though you couldn’t deny it, it stung just a bit. An athlete must train their body and mind constantly, surely, they understood that?

“Those were some sour faces,” Kuramochi noted as you all made your way through the halls, heading towards the fields. You shrugged your shoulders, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“They asked to hang out again, but they only ever want to when we have practice.” You remained indifferent, not really caring to spend your time here doing anything but hang with the team and play baseball.

“You’ll never get a date hanging with us all the time. Guys don’t notice other guys and you’re practically a guy now,” Miyuki looked you up and down as he spoke, clearly not realizing he may have crossed a line. You didn’t show it, but those words stung. Did he really not see you as a female, let alone an attractive one? You stared down at your body, the exact same body you had in Reality A. You lacked confidence in it, but you’d never describe it as “unattractive.”

“f*ck you and your gender norms. Just because I kick ass on the field doesn’t make me any less female. And I look damn good while doing it.” You didn’t bother to wait for a reply, speeding up pace to leave the boys behind to find the Seido dorms.

The school was appropriately marked, leading you directly to the field and dorms. You glanced at your watch, recognizing you had about thirty minutes before practice started. You needed to eat something small and change into your practice uniform and gather your gear. And it was here that you ran into your newest problem.

Where the hell was your dorm?

You assumed you lived alone, for the obvious reason, but you also thought you would probably be in the same dorms as the rest of the team. Or had they made you commute from another female teams’ dorm? You bit your lip anxiously as you mulled over each thought.

“Y/N-SENPAI!!!!” You jumped slightly just as the loudmouth pitcher slammed into your back. He was slightly taller than you and filling out in muscle too. You pinched his cheek affectionately, still loving Reality B, despite what Miyuki had said.

“What’s up, Sawamura-kun?” You noticed Furuya and Haruichi lingering behind him. You smiled widely at the smaller, pink haired boy. He was post bang clip, allowing you to see his eyes. You had always found him absolutely adorable and hoped to befriend him and the other two first years. You waved to acknowledge the two quieter boys. Haruichi softly smiled, while Furuya continued to stare. You shook your head, turning your attention back to the excited pitcher.

“Will you come down early and just warm me up with catches?” He leaned into your shoulder sheepishly, ensuring no one else could hear. “I… I’m not as self-conscious about it around you.” You felt your heart break slightly for him. Baseball was everything to Sawamura and he was so desperate to prove himself. You recalled, from your Reality B memories, the moment his pitch had slammed into the batter, the pure terror that had erupted on his face, the way he shook. You patted his shoulder knowingly.

“Of course, love! I just need to get changed and grab something to eat quick.” Reminded of your current predicament, you nervously fiddled with your tie. How would you figure out where your dorm was?

Suddenly, your bag was stolen from your shoulder in one swift motion. You turned, ready to land a punch to whoever stole your possessions, only to see Miyuki, now changed into his practice uniform, staring at you, a bored look on his face.

“Let’s go to your room, we need to talk,” he said plainly. You opened your mouth, a sharp retort ready on your tongue. Sawamura beat you to it.

“Shove off Miyuki, I asked her to help me warm up first! Besides, it’s against the rules for us to be in her room!” He stood up tall, as if trying to appear bigger than he was. You stifled a laugh. Miyuki shoved Sawamura’s head back.

“I’m not stealing her, just have some captain things to discuss. And you all use my room like your personal meeting place, we won’t get anything done there.” He flicked a look towards Furuya, “We’ll be down in a minute. Grab something to eat and head down to the field. And Haruichi,” he turned to the pink haired second baseman, “make sure they actually stretch well.” Haruichi nodded eagerly, grabbing both by the ears and pulling them away. You laughed again, feisty Haruichi was the best one yet.

Miyuki silently walked past you, your bag still slung over his shoulder. He didn’t so much as glance at you and it was seriously pissing you off. He damn well knew he was in the wrong here. Not even one day into your first day in Reality B and you were already at odds with the captain. You angrily kicked at the pebbles on the ground, reluctantly following Miyuki.

After walking up the stairs you stopped outside a blue door at the end of the building. Miyuki rustled in your bag, pulling out a bat and mit keychain with a large letter [your initial] on it. You realized that this must be your dorm room. You said a silent thanks that the asshole showed up when he did.

It was no different from what you knew the other Seido dorms to be, though it was slightly smaller and with only a single bed in it. Miyuki dropped your bag off at the door, heading to sit at the desk chair. You chose it ignore his presence, heading over to your drawers and pulling out a practice uniform, spandex and sports bra, the familiarity of the dorm slowly returning to you.

“For someone who has captain things to talk about, you’re awfully silent.” You kept your voice cold and low as you spoke, still keeping your back turned from him as you undid your tie. You heard the creak of the chair as Miyuki shifted, most likely battling with a nasty retort or an apology.

“Ugh, fine I get it, I get it. I know you’re sensitive about that stuff and I shouldn’t have gone there.”

You slammed your drawer shut, jacket half falling off your shoulder. “I’m sensitive about that stuff!? Your apology is to say, ‘I’m sorry you’re sensitive?’” You shrugged the last of your jacket off, taking a deep breath in before sternly looking at Miyuki. “Look, you don’t get it and that’s fine. You can’t understand this. But I’m not pissed by the comment because I’m ‘sensitive’,” you put quotes around the word, “I’m pissed because out of everyone, I figured my team wouldn’t throw the fact that I’m female in my face like it’s a damn weakness.” You turned back around, letting him sit with that, unbuttoning your shirt and letting it fall to the floor.

“Yo, what the hell,” Miyuki called out and you glanced over your shoulder to see him covering his eyes, a red blush creeping across his face. You rolled your eyes.

“Oh hush, you can’t see anything with my back to you and we are in a hurry. They’re just breasts, Miyuki.” You switched bras quickly, slipping on your white practice shirt on, tying the bottom so that it became a crop top. Miyuki, eyes still covered, groaned.

“Ugh, don’t make me cover my ears too.”

You laughed at his childish response, quickly changing into your spandex and practice pants. You threw a pillow at Miyuki’s head, laughing at his shock when it smacked his glasses clean off his face. Grabbing his baseball cap, you plopped it onto your own head and smirked at him.
“What? I was just trying to tell you that it was safe to look.” He swiped for his hat and you efficiently ducked out of the way. He brought an arm to trap you, but again, you maneuvered out of his reach, laughing at his frustration. To your dismay, he finally caught you, catching your waist in his muscled arms and pulling you in. His pectorals were hard against your shoulder blades and your face flushed with heat. He snatched the cap off of your head and leaned over you, into your neck, his arms softening into a gentle hold.

“I’m sorry Y/N. No one should throw that in your face, especially me. It won’t happen again.” He gave you a subtle squeeze before releasing you, picking his glasses up off the floor. You stood for a moment, the touch memory settling in. You… really hadn’t wanted him to let go. Miyuki, noticing your unnatural stillness, paused. “You good? Feeling sick again?”

You shook your head, pushing the foolish thoughts from your head. You pulled your hair into a quick ponytail and flashed him a smile. Hoping he didn’t notice it was a bit forced, you grabbed your own cap and sports bag before beating him to the door. “Race you there!”

You took off, relishing in your improved speed, the cool wind fighting back the heat that had been in your face moments ago. You heard Miyuki chasing after you, yelling about stretching and not being cleared yet, but you just increased your speed, making it to the diamond in a matter of minutes.

“Beat you… again.” You breathed out, hands on your knees as, grinning madly. The first years were finishing their stretches, watching you curiously.

“You’re not even… cleared yet.” He panted back, before turning his attention to the first years. “Furuya, you’re with me. Sawamura, come to the pen once you’re done with Y/N.” The pitchers nodded, breaking off into their respected groups, Haruichi going for practice swings.

You stretched briefly while conversing with Sawamura. Outwardly, it would appear just two teammates making small talk, but in actuality, you were analyzing the pitcher. In Reality A, psychology was the thing that came most naturally to you in school. You were damn good at reading people, their patterns, their emotions… even being referred to as a human lie detector.

Currently, Sawamura was tense, playing off his yips as a minor setback. But you knew better, could see in how he held himself, in the words he used, that he was terrified that he would never recover. His hands shook slightly as he punched his mitt. You even sensed the anxiety that radiated off him. With a warm smile, you cupped his cheek softly.

“Listen, it’s just you and me, Sawamura-kun. You don’t have anything to worry about. Let’s just do some tosses and then maybe a few pitches.” You had used the word on purpose, noting the tensing of his frame, the flexing of his hands.

“What if… what if I hurt you?” His voice sounded so broken. You pondered the thought for a moment, wanting to choose your words carefully.

“Truthfully Sawamura-kun? No one should be on the field if they’re not prepared to get hurt. It’s just, a part of sports,” you shrugged your shoulders, both understanding why Sawamura was so shaken and not comprehending why he couldn’t think rationally. “You’re a good kid, of course you never want to harm anyone. But don’t put all the weight on your shoulders. If I get hurt, it’s on me just as much as you, okay?”

Feeling satisfied in your response, you turned to Sawamura, happy to see him nodding firmly. You both took your spots and began to toss back and forth.

You had to admit, you were impressed with yourself. In Reality A, you had never played baseball or softball, sticking to sports like lacrosse and field hockey. You weren’t bad but were definitely considered more artsy than sporty. But here, in Reality B, you could tell you had some real talent. Your passes had power and sniper-like aim, your catches were solid, and your confidence soared with every throw. Everything you knew about baseball came from this anime. As you passed with Sawamura, memories, both muscle and visual, downloaded into your brain at hyper speed. The past two years hitting you in an instant. This was who you were here, this was your passion.

And you were already falling deeply in love with it, fast.

You moved in slightly, crouching down into a catcher’s position, your muscles showing you the way. You nodded to Sawamura that you were ready and saw him breathe in deeply, his face contorting.

The pitch was wild, unsteady and basically no good at all. You stretched to catch it, an undisputable ball. Sawamura kicked the ground, frustration seeping through him.

“It’s just me, a pitch is an extension of a pass, just breathe and give me all you got!” You smiled largely at him, shooting him a thumbs up and crouching back down. You were keenly aware of the sound of Furuya and Miyuki in the pen behind you and you knew Sawamura noticed it too as his stance changed in midair. His hips came out of alignment, his arm swung wildly, but with no follow through. Panicking slightly, you watched the pitch weave towards you, trying your best to guess where it would land. Taking a chance, you raised your glove to just above your head to the right.

But you were wrong.

The pitch curved in the last moment, slamming into your right knee and dropping you the ground. You bit back a curse as the action reverberated throughout your bones, pain shooting through you. You grasped your knee and curled it into you, feeling the fire of angry nerves zapping you.

You were too wrapped up in your own pain to realize that some of the starting lineup had made it onto the field. Kuramochi noticed you first and used his fast legs to slide to your side, Sawamura falling next to him, tears welling in his eyes.

“Remember what… I said… Mura… part… of sports,” you panted out every word as you writhed in pain on the ground. Sawamura, dazed, nodded.

You were blinking your own tears away, refusing to let them fall. You had always had a high pain tolerance; this was on another level though. Kuramochi put his hands on your shoulders, steadying you.

“Hey, Y/N, focus on me, gosh I know it hurts, I’m sorry,” his voice was wracked with concern, his eyes fearful for you, his friend, “it’s your bad knee, right?” You glanced up at him, confused. Bad knee?

You pushed yourself enough last season.

Miyuki’s words rang in your head as you rocked back and forth in pain. Had you injured yourself in the last season and ignored it? That sounded like something you would do.

You didn’t get to answer as another pair of hands placed themselves on your hips and pushed them both to the ground, ceasing your rocking. Your feet pushed against the body, instead meeting the hard padding of a catcher.

“It’s her knee yeah, go get Coach, Kuramochi. Haruichi, go get me the med kit.” His voice was calm and firm, demanding respect and attention. In this moment, you realized why Miyuki was captain. And you were grateful.

You grasped Miyuki’s hand and squeezed it as another shot of pain went through your knee. “f*ck!” you spat out, willing with all your heart for the pain to cease. Miyuki allowed you to keep his hand prisoner, squeezing it mercilessly.

“Y/N, I need you to tell me where you’re feeling pain. Did you step wrong and tear something?”

“Sawamura.” You hissed out, banging a fist into the dirt. It came out angry when you had meant it to be soft. You needed to check on him, he was making progress, this could end his entire career. He was already faltering. Through blurred eyes, you saw Miyuki look down at you, at first with confusion and then understanding.

“Bakamura, sit by her and grab her hand.” He started to argue, and Miyuki cut him off with a glare. “She won’t have anyone else, now do it!”

A different hand slipped into yours, replacing Miyuki’s. You smiled slightly, squeezing it gently. Coach had appeared now too, kneeling by your head while Kuramochi and Haruichi loomed behind him. Haruichi ran a hand through your hair, Kuramochi busied himself assisting Miyuki. You almost couldn’t believe that all of these people cared, cared for you.

The pain slowly subsided as Miyuki wrapped and iced your knee. Coach inspected your knee, phoning a call into the trainer. You hated that this was your first true interaction with him, you had been looking forward to showing off on the field today.

“How do you know how to do all this anyway? First the concussion test and now this?” You gripped Sawamura’s hand a bit tighter as Miyuki placed the ice on your knee again. He laughed, a bit tensely.

“You think you were the only one paying attention during our captain training? I take it seriously too you know.” You hissed again as he adjusted the ice.

“Maybe you forgot the part that the goal is to avoid pain!” Sawamura laughed slightly and you smiled up at him, grateful for his presence. Eventually, Haruichi let you lean against his legs and, when you finally felt able, your captain and vice-captain helped you to your feet.

You went to test your leg with some weight when Miyuki quickly placed your arm over his shoulder, Kuramochi mimicking his movements.

“Don’t even think about it, stubborn ass.” Miyuki growled out, his hand grabbing your hip opposite to him.

“Let’s get you to the bench and check you out fully before we give you free reign,” Kuramochi added, keeping a tight hand on your arm.

Miyuki set the team off to start warmups while the three of you hobbled over to the bench. Sitting down with a sigh, you cautiously stretched your leg in and out, not sensing anything outwardly wrong. A bit of a twinge on the bend, you had suspected that after the whole ordeal. Kuramochi handed you a water bottle and you sipped at it.

“We have to get Sawamura-kun pitching today. We can’t let this memory implant in his brain.” You traced lines in the dirt with your good leg. “It wasn’t even really his fault, I’m just no catcher. I couldn’t read the pitch.”

“You’re so thick!” Miyuki said in exasperation, turning to Kuramochi for support. “Focus on yourself for one DAMN minute.” You glanced at him. He wasn’t wrong, you definitely should be a priority right now. Yet, all you cared about was your team. How was Sawamura fairing, was Haruichi shaken at all, did Kuramochi stretch before he sprinted to your side?

“I’m sitting, aren’t I? You’re the one who said yourself that we couldn’t lose anymore players. So, here I am, ensuring I’m fine and my team is okay.” They both ignored you, much to your annoyance.

Miyuki leaned down and pulled up your pant leg, ghosting his hand over the slowly swelling area. Slowly, he undid his wrapping. You noted the flower bruise across the inner side of your kneecap.

“Any harder and I may have dislocated it.” You breathed out, your own first-aid and anatomy knowledge seeping out. Miyuki nodded, running a hand through his hair again. You hated seeing the stress overtake his frame. You couldn’t remember a time seeing him so outwardly stress in the show you had watched. He was always calm, serious only during a game, and even than not always. It was then that you noticed the long scar that ran down the center of your knee, ugly and ragged. The pieces began to fall into place. You weren’t sure what injury you had suffered, or even when, but a knee injury dominated your past without a doubt.

“It looks like you got lucky, the pitch aggravated the injury, but you didn’t reinjure yourself.” He placed both hands on your knee and you felt the calloused skin rub up against your softness. He stalled for just a moment before returning your pant leg down. “We’ll have the trainer check you out, you’ll sit practice for today, and ice tonight.”

You wrinkled your nose. “But I haaateeee icing Miyuki.” You pouted your lower lip at him, causing Kuramochi break out into laughter.

“She’s totally fine if she’s acting like that.” He ruffled your hair before placing your hat back onto it. You smiled, figuring it must have fallen off during the fiasco. “I’m going to go make sure the team isn’t slacking and get everyone going,” he narrowed his eyes at you, “you’ll do what we say and call if you need something.” You saluted at him jokingly. With a laugh, he took off towards the field, leaving you both in an uncomfortable silence.

You weren’t sure why the silence suddenly felt uncomfortable, why Miyuki felt distant and angry towards you. It truly hadn’t been your fault that you had taken the hit and he knew that. So, why was he avoiding your eyes?

“Miyuki? Are you alright?” You reached out but stopped a few inches before his hand. It didn’t feel right. You truly didn’t know him, no matter what these downloaded memories were telling you.

“Why do you care so much about everyone but yourself?” He spoke low and steady, but you knew he was frustrated. Not necessarily frustrated at you, but not happy with you either. You fiddled with your hair, knowing this answer wasn’t one you had to worry about getting correct. This was you, no matter the reality. You smiled at the ground, sadly.

“Because no one can take the pain better than me.”

Miyuki just stared, at you, your vulnerability, the honesty in your words. You continued to smile, letting the truth seep into your bones.

“Enough of that stuff though, you better get to practice. But can you pass me the stats book? I want to go over the practice matches and see what I can find and…” Your words were cut off as your head was shoved into Miyuki’s chest, an awkward hug, given that he was half crouching, half standing. Still, you returned in, squeezing a little.

It ended quickly, both of your frames relaxing after the moment, tension and anxiety melting away. Miyuki tossed you the stats book, giving you a warning that if you moved an inch, he’d personally kill you.

You smiled down at the book, flipping through the detailed pages, running your fingers along Miyuki’s own scribbled notes. This may be Reality B, but it was really starting to feel like home.

Chapter 3: This Can't Be Real

Chapter Text

You were damn lucky, and you knew it. Coach had scolded you for catching without padding. Not to mention, he didn’t enjoy that you had the nerve to point out that Miyuki did it fairly regularly. He’d surely have you running sprints for that comment. The trainer also lectured you, which would have annoyed you, except he had revealed a lot about your previous injury.

Last season, right before the semi-finals, you had played in a match-up against a rival team. Seido was down one run and you, the pinch hitter, were on third, Miyuki up to bat after the previous batter had done a sacrificial bunt. Miyuki had given you the subtle signal as he swung the bat in practice.

He, quite simply, told you to run faster than you have ever ran before. You were fast, not Kurmochi fast, but close to it. This was the perfect line up and the opposing team knew it.

So, when Miyuki slammed the bat into the ball on the first pitch, no one was surprised by your speed. You saw Miyuki in the corner of your eye, heading to first as the outfield scrambled to the ball, placed in the trickiest spot the sly bastard could have aimed it. You made it halfway between the two bases, stretching your legs out as your goal loomed in front of you. It was right there, and everyone was watching it.

And that’s why no one noticed it. No one saw the third basem*n place himself just enough in your path to cause you to swerve. No one heard the popping in your knee, saw your face contort as you felt your ACL tear itself.

And because no one noticed it… no one could tell you to stop running.

You stretched your legs even further, ignoring the tears that fell down your face and the burning pain traveling through your leg. Relying purely on adrenaline, you braced yourself, sliding into home, a mere second before the ball found its way to the catcher’s mit. A bated breath left your lips until the umpire declared you safe.

Seido went wild, your run tying the game, with Miyuki in prime scoring position on second. But you couldn’t celebrate, you couldn’t think, could barely breathe as you lay across the plate. The pain was unimaginable, demanding your attention as you pounded your hands in the dirt. The field grew quiet as everyone finally realized that you had not moved from your spot, had not raised your fist in triumphant. You lay still, biting on your hand so not to scream, pounding your other hand into the dirt, tears streaking your dirt-stained face. The pain made your vision spot and tunnel. You barely made out the voices as they came closer.

“Watch second, he’s trying to steal!”

“You’re so thick, she’s freaking injured!” You blinked up at him, sports goggles reflecting your own pitiful expression. He smoothed back your hair; his sh*t-eating grin replaced with pure uneasiness. It took all you had to focus on him, your pain choking any words from your voice box.

“Did she break a nail?” The other team sneered. Anger flashed across Miyuki’s face at the comment and you didn’t miss it. If it hadn’t been for you, he would have punched the guy right there and you both knew it. For now, he ignored them, putting all of his attention on you as Coach and a team of medics rushed onto the field. You, however, were not so calm.

“Come over here so I can break your face,” you spat, pain and anger morphing together. Miyuki tapped your cheek, bringing your attention back to him.

“Did it happen when you slid into home?” Miyuki questioned, rolling up the pant leg of the knee you were gripping. You shook your head, removing your hand from your mouth for a moment, noting the metallic taste of blood.

“Between third and home.” You didn’t miss Miyuki’s eyes widening, suddenly realizing that you had just sprinted, in extreme pain, past your limit, for your team. For one damn run. The knee was already turning into a grotesque sight with the extreme swelling.

“Why… dammnit, Y/N!”

Then the medics and Coach were there, interrupting any lecture Miyuki could have given. He placed your head in his lap as the others busied themselves with your knee. You already inferred what had happened, but you let them figure it out on their own, putting all your energy in just staying awake. Miyuki, aware of your struggle, kept talking to you, giving you a focal point to turn your attention to.

When one medic straightened your leg out without warning, you didn’t care who heard anymore. You screamed. An ear-shattering, painful, endless agonizing scream as your knee protested the harsh movement. Tears streamed down your face and you choked on your sobs.

“Please, stop. It hurts so much. Please.” You pleaded with them, wanting the pain to cease. Miyuki, who hadn’t moved from behind your head, found your hand, bleeding from when you bit it.

“I know it hurts Y/N, I’m so sorry, just focus on me a bit longer. You’re doing great.” His voice soothed you, his hand stroking your sweat slicked hair.

“Please, please don’t end my career. Please I have to keep playing!” Your words tore Miyuki apart. Even here, half insane because of pain, all you cared about was if you could play again. He understood, right then and there, just how terrified you were. Yet, everyone else ignored you, focusing only on your knee. He exchanged a look with the Coach, who just shook his head, no comforting words coming to him in the moment.

Because no one was really sure if this was career ending.

“Hey! You’re way too stubborn to let something like this stop you. Quit talking like a dumbass.”

You let out a painful laugh at his backward comforting gesture. If Miyuki was acting like an ass, then it couldn’t be that bad. Still, it was more comforting that someone was listening, thinking of you. He wiped your tears as they fell.

And he didn’t leave your side. Not when you were lifted onto a stretcher, not as you were rushed off the field. When he was just about to go into the ambulance with you, you let go. He stared at you, confused.

“Go win and show those bastards they lost to a girl.” Your voice was breaking, pain still searing through you, but this was more important than that.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” he argued, going to step into the ambulance, but you shook your head, weakly pushing against his chest.

“No. I want to wake up tomorrow knowing we won. That this didn’t happen for nothing. So, go finish the game for me.” Miyuki stopped, your last few words ringing in his ears. You didn’t want your potentially permanent benching to be for nothing. The least he could give you was the win. He gave you his word, that he would see you tonight with a ticket to semi-finals.

The next day, you and the team celebrated in your hospital room.

The trainer relayed some of this to you, while your memory filled in the rest. You had surgery that day, a long recovery and rehabilitation. The trainer frequently brought up how you had pushed yourself to return for the next season, against all medical advice. You waved him off, stating that this incident and the ACL tear of last year did not relate. Begrudgingly, he was forced to agree that you would be fine to practice tomorrow, reminding you to ice and do your strengthening exercises. He also threw a brace in your face, something you apparently refused to wear often. Crossing your heart in promise to do better, you thanked him for his time and spent the rest of the practice making notes on the team’s key players.

The sun was setting when the rest of the team found their way back to the dugout. You, like the rule-obeying girl you were (note sarcasm), were icing your knee and scribbling in the stats book. You smiled at everyone as they passed, sweaty and exhausted, most likely making their way to the showers and cafeteria. You gave as many of them an encouraging note as they passed, commenting on batting, passes, runs, and so on. It was only when Kuramochi and Miyuki that you stood up, cautiously placing weight onto your knee. It protested slightly but complied as you limped over. They both eyed you cautiously.

“What did the trainer say?” Kuramochi asked quietly, glancing at your knee warily. You waved him off.

“I’m clear to practice tomorrow, just need to ice and keep doing my stretching and strengthening exercises.” You pushed the brace down further into your bag, conveniently leaving it out of the equation. The two nodded, relief flooding their faces from the fact that you were clear. “Sorry for causing such a dramatic start to the weekend.” Turning to Miyuki, you bit your lip. “Is Sawamura okay?”

As if to answer your question, the first (no, the second year now, you had to stop confusing the two) slammed into your back with a hug. Your knee waivered under the weight, causing both Kuramochi and Miyuki to put their hands onto your shoulders. Sawamura earned a double kick for that one.

“I’m fine Y/N-senpai! I’ll fight this thing and become the ace in no time, just you watch!” Sawamura yelled, expertly dodging both of the boys’ hands as they tried to punish him for his carelessness. You smirked at him, happy to see you weren’t causing more stress on the little pitcher. He sprinted back to the field, screaming about his trusty tire and dreams of being the ace. You had every ounce of faith that he would succeed. You smiled up at the sky, stars starting to speckle it. This… this place felt… real.

…
You lay in your bed, uniform discarded in the corner, hair still wet from your shower, clad in your shorts and a sports bra. You stared at the ceiling as you ran through the events of the day. There had been moments where you had completely forgotten that Reality B wasn’t your true Reality. And now, as you mulled over every positive and negative, you felt tears well in your eyes. You didn’t want to go back. You didn’t want to close your eyes in this world and wake up in your own. Your own was cruel, it was lonely, and it was painful. You had already lost so much, had fought for so long. You didn’t live in that world, merely existed.

Here, people cared. They looked for you, missed you when you were gone, had your back. Here you weren’t alone. Here you were loved.

A knock on your door pulled you from your spinning thoughts. Hastily wiping at your silent tears, you opened the door slightly. You should have known; he was always just… there.

Miyuki was the most confusing, contradictory piece in your puzzle of realities. It had only been a day and he had managed to make you blush in embarrassment, yearn for his touch and fantasize about decking him in the face. And, as you recalled the downloaded memories of your ACL tear, you felt your heart skip beats. He was the only one who had listened, had noticed that you weren’t okay.

“Y/N, came to make sure you were icing your…” He stopped when he saw your face. You thought you had hid it all pretty well, but the look Miyuki gave you told you that you were caught. “What’s wrong,” he asked when you opened the door, inviting him in. You shrugged, plopping onto your bed.

“Nothing in particular. A little sore.” You closed your eyes, saying a silent prayer that he would let it go. The bed sunk next to you as Miyuki sat down.

“We’re alone you know, you can drop the ‘I can do it all and I can do it alone,’ tough girl act.” Choosing to ignore him, you rubbed at your face, sitting up and placing your legs on Miyuki’s lap. “The hell are you doing?” Again, ignoring him, you reached over and placed the discarded ice pack back on your knee and laid back into your pillow. He shook his head. “So, I’m your personal pillow to elevate your leg?” You smirked.

“You told me I didn’t have to do it alone.”

“You’re exhausting.”

“Aw thanks!”

You continued with your sarcastic banter, genuinely smiling as the night continued on. The two of you discussed all of the subtle things you picked up on while sitting the bench, Miyuki even praising you slightly for noticing his unsteady stance when Furuya threw his new pitch.
It was already much too late when Miyuki stood to leave, content with the fact that your knee had returned to normal size (yes, he most certainly checked before moving you off of him). At the door, saying goodnight, the emotions surrounding the idea of him hit you again and you couldn’t stop your mouth from moving.

“Miyuki!” You called, right before he turned away. He raised an eyebrow. “um.. just… thank you… for today.” He pat your shoulder, sh*t eating grin wide as ever.

“I know, I’m an incredible captain.” You slammed the door in his face, but not before rolling your eyes dramatically.

That wasn’t what you had wanted to say. You didn’t want to thank him for today, you wanted to thank him for everything. You wanted to go over every single one of these made-up memories in your head and thank him for being there, for sticking around, for believing in you.

Because, as you lay your head onto your pillow and nuzzled into the blankets, you knew that when you opened your eyes this world would be gone. That Miyuki would continue to exist here, and you’d be alone again, in the cold world of Reality A. You wanted nothing more than to hold onto this day, this place for just a little longer.

No, that was a lie. Not a little longer.

You wanted to stay here. Reality A turning into a distant memory.

Only this can’t be real…

Can it?

Chapter 4: Pinky Promise

Chapter Text

BEEP

You shoved the pillow over your head. It was too early.

BEEP, BEEP

You ignore the sound, pulling the blankets over your head. There was no reason to rush out of bed. Your alarm, however, demanded your attention relentlessly.

BEEP, BEEP, BEEP

You sat up abruptly in anger and you felt a twinge in your knee, protesting your harsh movement.

Wait… your knee?

You took in your surroundings, aggressively rubbing the sleep from your eyes. There was no doubt about it, you were still in your dorm at Seido. You took in the sight, relief flooding through you with every little detail that met your eyes. Your bat and glove sat in the corner of the room, your practice uniform folded next to it, ready for action. You threw the blankets back, running your hands over your scarred knee, never imagining you’d be so happy to see the deformity.

I’m still here. I didn’t go back. I stayed right here.

You pulled your pillow into yourself, squeezing it tightly, smiling widely. It didn’t make sense really, you got here by falling asleep, you figured that falling asleep would send you right back. But you had no reason to question, no desire in tempting fate to send you away. Lifting yourself out of the bed you spun around in a circle, arms outstretched, relishing the feel of this body.

There was a dry erase calendar on your wall, color coded by school subject that caught your eyes. In blue, it listed out every game, practice, captain’s meeting, and team meeting for Seido baseball. You smirked, thanking your Reality B self for leaving you such a detailed schedule. Scanning your eyes to today’s date, your breath hitched as you read the blue print writing.

Scrimmage against Yakushi

You shook your head, a thousand panicked thoughts running through your mind. You hadn’t even gotten to practice because of yesterday hiccup. Sure, those few tosses with Sawamura had felt familiar and strong, but an entire game? You hadn’t practiced batting, hadn’t learned Coach’s cues, there wasn’t enough time to prepare yourself.

Taking in a deep breath, you calmed your mind, centering your tornado of thoughts. This is Reality B. In Reality B, I’m the only female player on the circuit, the first basem*n and vice-captain of Seido. Before that, you were a pinch hitter and an outfielder. You knew this, had seen it in your memories, even though you had never lived it. You had done all of this. You. Reality A and B had one common factor, you.

Your breathing steadied, your confidence and determination returning to you. You would do this; you’d do your part to win the game. A smirk spread across your fate and you hated to consider how similar you looked to a certain captain. You’d do this for your team. And you’d do it damn well.

A new vigor overtaking you, you changed into your uniform and braided your hair back. Grabbing your hat, bag and water bottle, you walked out the door, on your way to the cafeteria, your stomach growling loudly in request for food.

The cafeteria was fairly empty when you entered, a few second and third string players were clearing their bowls. Grabbing your own breakfast from one of the kind ladies, you took a seat at the closest table, greedily shoving the food into your mouth. Halfway through your peaceful meal, the door slammed open revealing your teammates. They funneled into the room, grabbing meals and conversing loudly. Your table became filled with obnoxious boys, yet you couldn’t help but smile. You were still here, and it made you so elated.

“I’m telling you, it’s Haruichi, he’s the only one that makes sense,” Kuramochi said in exasperation sitting down across from you, Miyuki taking the seat next to him. You quirked an eyebrow, already sensing this was a ridiculous conversation.

“What are you two debating now? And why are you dragging poor Haruichi-kun into it?” The pink-haired second basem*n took his seat next to you, smiling softly at your defense of him. Kuramochi pointed his chopstick at you as he answered, mouth full of food.

“Who’s the best singer on the team, obviously.” You rolled your eyes, wondering how they ever got to this topic of discussion. Putting a hand up to block the gross scene, you made a face at Haruichi, who quietly laughed. Glancing around the room, you considered the question. No one really screamed ‘secret singer’ to you. Haruichi shook his head.

“It’s not me, brother can confirm it. We both are quite terrible. But,” he elbowed your side causing you to pause mid bite, eyes widening, “Y/N’s voice is beautiful, she even plays guitar.” You coughed loudly at that comment, gulping at water to avoid your embarrassment.

“How would you know that?” You questioned a little too quickly.

“I can hear you through our wall. You really are good!” His face was so sweet and kind, you couldn’t even be mad that he had exposed you to the entire team, primed for ridicule.

It’s true, in Reality A, you played a few instruments and sang. But here too? You assumed baseball had left you to abandon all other hobbies, only making time for your one specific passion. Feeling all of the eyes at the table on you, you decided to play it off with a shrug.

“Well, my mom she… she was a music teacher. So, I just, grew up with it. It’s nothing special.” You looked down at your food, pushing it around with your chopsticks, feeling a twinge of discomfort in your stomach at the thought of your mom. It wasn’t an unhappy memory, yet it filled you with pain. You no longer wanted to finish your meal.

You hadn’t considered her since you had gotten here, too used to ignoring the fact of her to consider what may be different here. No, that wasn’t a smart way to think. Thinking like that would get you hurt. Most likely, the reality remained the same here. Your mind flashed to today’s date and realized that in a week… it would have been a year.

He wouldn’t ever admit it to you, but Miyuki noticed how your mind began to spiral at the mention of your mother. A fierce protective nature swept over him, one that he couldn’t even explain the root cause of. Letting it control his actions though, he cleared his throat.

“I don’t believe it.” You looked up at him, eyes still a bit clouded. He hated that. co*cking your head, you asked for an explanation. “I’ve known you for three years and I’ve never heard you sing. Not even on the bus with your headphones in. Prove it.” His tone was challenging, begging to be defied, and a smile spread across your face, your eyes clearing. You never could say no to a challenge. This was a battle that ensured indisputable victory and you knew it.

“What do you want to hear, pretty boy,” you drew out the last words, mocking him with a devilish eye. Not waiting for an answer, you pushed your bowl to the side and began to beat out a simple pattern.

Boom. Boom, snap, boom.

Over and over, you played out the rhythm, closing your eyes and swaying slightly. Your drumming drew the attention of the room, but you didn’t mind. This was natural.

“So suddenly, I’m in love with a stranger, I can’t believe she’s mine.”

Opening your mouth, you sang, your voice gravitating from the lower parts of your range into your reverberating falsetto. Your subtle growl in your deepest registers caused Kuramochi to whistle. Smirking, you continued, knowing you were exceeding expectations.

“Now all I see is you, with fresh eyes, fresh eyes.”

And the entire time, you stared right into Miyuki’s eyes, a more than confident smile on your face. Your tongue peeking out between your teeth with confidence. What was even better? The song’s lyrics had quite the effect on him, as a noticeable blush spread across his tanned cheeks.

“You dress up just a little and I’m like oh damn.”

Ceasing the beat, your last sensual note ringing out through the room, you leaned over the table towards him. Relishing in Miyuki leaning away from the action.

“Well?”

The cafeteria actually went nuts. Apparently, no one had any idea that you were capable of that. Sawamura begged you to teach him how to do the beat, Kuramochi kicked you for keeping it a secret, and the rest of the team just yelled praises. You laughed, noticing how silent your captain was. You didn’t think it would have flustered him this much. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, when the Coach walked into the cafeteria, effectively silencing the room with a glance. You, Kuramochi, and Miyuki all stood, ready to receive your duties of the day.

He announced the lineup, Furuya placed as starting pitcher. The disappointment from Nori and Sawamura was undeniable. The rest of the starters were no surprise to anyone. The room was tense, the reality that every sub, second and third string player was fighting for their spot. While the first string fought to remain where they stood. Everyone was replaceable, everyone had something to fight for. For some, it was their last chance to prove themselves, others afraid they’d miss their chance if they didn’t fight now. You breathed in deeply, determined to prove yourself, the same as the rest. Even Miyuki had a fire in his eyes. He’d never lose his spot, not the genius catcher. But the fact that he was aware of that and still gave it 110% was exactly why he deserved his spot.

In your mind, though you’d never tell him, that asshole was the ace.

After breakfast, down at the field, you all began to stretch. The morning sun was warm on your back as you went into a pigeon pose, feelings the stretch and pull of your muscles as your body came alive. Your baseball leggings stretched with you, showing the ripple and definition of your muscles. You had noticed that your uniform was slightly different, taking into consideration the difference in female anatomy to male. You smirked, admiring yourself a bit. They say men look good in baseball uniforms, but damn were they seriously missing out on how women look.

The other team would be arriving at any moment, everyone eager for their own specific type of revenge. Feeling your own fire pulse through you, you hopped up, stretching your hamstrings. Your eyes found Miyuki, deep in thought as he stretched. He had told you last night how he feared for this new team. The pillars of the team had all but disappeared with the third years. New partnerships were still being formed, players were still finding their purpose to play, and to Miyuki it spelled disaster. You hadn’t considered it at the time, but now, as you watched him think, you wondered if the title of captain was weighing on him more than he let on. Now wasn’t the time to bring it up so you stored the thought in the back of your mind for later.

Doing a few jump squats to get your blood flowing, you turned to gather the team for a pep talk, only to be interrupted by Coach.

“Y/N!” He called out, emerging from the dugout with that same stern expression on his face. Not many could make you nervous, but he always made you feel like a toddler that was about to receive a time out.

“Yes sir?” You absentmindedly crossed your arms in a stretch, catching Kuramochi and Miyuki’s eyes. They seemed to say, “what the hell did you do?” to which you shrugged.

“How is your knee?” You breathed out a sigh of relief. Of course, he was just checking on your injury. You straightened your leg out in front of you, bending it back for affect.

“All good, Coach! I’m perfectly ready for today.” As if to further prove your point, you rocked over into a backbend, grinning at the stone-faced man. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“And where’s your brace?”

Your smile died instantly. You kicked over your head, bringing yourself to a standing position. sh*t, that’s a hard one to talk yourself out of.

“Brace?” Kuramochi asked innocently, while Miyuki bristled behind him.

“What brace, Y/N?” he asked lowly.

You ignored the pairs of eyes that drove daggers into you, keenly aware you had managed to avoid that topic with everyone. You should have known better, the trainer would obviously tell Coach, especially with your track record with following directions. Placing your hand behind your neck you adapted the most innocent face you could muster.

“I didn’t mention that? The trainer gave me a brace to use.” Not looking anyone in the eye, you addressed Coach.

“I think I forgot it in my dorm. I’m not used to the idea of it, so I didn’t think to check that I had it before I left.” You were lying through your teeth. The brace restricted your movement, made you overly conscious of how you bent and turned while you ran. That was entirely the point of it, to make your aware and keep everything in place. And you hated it with a passion. If you could just prove you were fine without it, maybe they’d forget and let it go.

Miyuki appeared as if on cue, dropping your sports bag in front of you. In his other hand, he held out a familiar black brace, the same one you had shoved deep into your bag the previous night. Gritting his teeth, he slammed the brace into your arms.

“Lucky for you, I found it.” You looked down at the knee prison, fully caught and cornered with nowhere to run. It was time to accept defeat. “Put it on, now.”

You sat down in a huff, undoing the Velcro and wrapping it securely around your knee, Miyuki refusing to move until you had secured the last strap. Standing, you tested your movement, admitting to yourself that it wasn’t as terrible as you had originally thought it would be. You wiggled your leg at the three men.

“See, my knee is in its’ prison. Can we focus on the game now?” Kuramochi and Coach seemed satisfied, turning back to the dugout where the team was beginning to gather up. You eyed Miyuki cautiously. “Hey, it’s time for your big Captain speech, thingy. Stop death glaring and let’s go.” He didn’t move, nor did he look amused by your humor. Sighing you bowed your head down. “Go ahead, yell at me, get it out of your system.” He turned away from you, his shoulder colder than any winter storm you had experienced.

“No. I’m tired of telling you to give a sh*t about yourself.”

He began to walk away, his words sinking into your stomach like a lead weight. The uncomfortable silence had returned, the fear of losing this new precious piece of your life too much to handle. There was no argument, no rebuttal, and that terrified you. This is always how it starts, when your stubbornness becomes too much to fight, to handle. You knew it and yet you did this every time. You saw the warning signs right in front of you

Because this was always how you met the beginning of the end.

You shook your head, refusing that reality. Reality A was one story, this was B, this was yours to own, to change, to be better, to be different. You reached out and grabbed Miyuki’s elbow and pulled him back to you. You half expected him to jerk his arm away, but he didn’t. He remained, back turned, at your side.

“You’re right. I f*cked up. I’ll knock this sh*t off, okay? I promise.”

Like a child, you held out your pinky, eyes wide with hope and earnest. Miyuki glanced at your hand before scoffing, his frown morphing into a smile. It may have been your imagination, but you thought you saw a bit of relief behind his eyes. Like maybe he didn’t want to be mad at you. He wrapped his own pinky around yours, shaking it three times before nodding towards the dugout.

You never would have expected that childish exchange to carry such a weight.

Chapter 5: A Setback Isn’t Terminal

Chapter Text

You watched as Michima Yuta took the mound, Kuramochi facing him off. The umpire gave the signal to begin and you gripped your bat tighter, glancing for a moment at Miyuki behind you. You were third in batting order, Miyuki following, and though that fact comforted you, you still felt immense pressure to perform at his level. You knew Miyuki was nothing short of a prodigy, regardless, you still compared yourself to him. You had a lot to prove to the team, to Coach, to Yakushi.

And to yourself.

Michima began his pitch and your breath caught in your throat when you watched the slow buildup suddenly snap down, the ball flying its path right to Kuramochi. How… how could anyone hit that? How could anyone see that?

Kuramochi quelled your worries with a single swing, the sweet sound of bat connecting with ball as he swung with a power that almost didn’t match his body. He ran, the bat flying from his hands as his long legs stretched, hitting first before anyone could blink. To your surprise, he didn’t stop there, rounding first and sliding into second as the other team scrambled to keep him from advancing. Your own heart was pounding, as if you had just sprinted the diamond yourself. It was only when Miyuki shoved you forward that you realized you needed to get in the batter’s box. Nodding at him, you stepped up, crouching into the box.

Haruichi’s pink hair peeked out from underneath his helmet, wooden bat held firmly in his hand. The crowd hushed when the pink-haired second year placed his bat in a position for bunting. You smirked; this was Haruichi to the core. As much as he could attempt the hit and very well make it onto base, he understood the situation. The team needed this momentum, needed Kuramochi to score the point and put them ahead. Some might watch his sacrifice and claim he was scared, that he was throwing away his shot at cleanup, at the starting lineup, but you knew better. As you watched him get the out on first, while Kuramochi flew onto third, you saw a player who thought through every move, every moment, putting the team above anything. You smiled as he passed you, bumping your shoulder as a sign of good luck. Haruichi was like the dark shadow of the team. No one had noticed him at first, no one had faith in the small, shy boy. But here he was, proving himself as an important cog in the machine.

Then it hit you like the bat in your hand, that it was your turn up to bat. You didn’t dare glance back at Miyuki and the team, knowing that your face would give away every emotion that was spinning throughout your body. Baseball was a team sport, each member, each play connecting to the next. But the moment you stepped on base; you held your entire team on your shoulders.

The blue batting helmet sat snuggly on your head, offering slight comfort to the idea of a ball flying at you with extreme speed. You took a moment before stepping on the plate, swinging your bat cleanly a few times. The bat was the perfect weight, heavy enough for you to really send a ball, but light enough to not tire you from just one swing. You glanced between the catcher and the pitcher, using your own deciphering ability to search for clues, clues to inform you on what to expect.

Stepping up to the plate, your brain jumped into hyper speed, analyzing all incoming data and combining it with your own knowledge. Batting was like a human equation. What did this combination of pitcher and catcher lead to? What solutions, in the form of pitches, would they create based on your own positioning, your foundation as a player, a batter. You settled into your stance, not crowding the plate, but close enough to put pressure on the battery.

You kept your eyes on Michima, but your ears picked up on the subtle shift of the catcher’s weight to your left. You watched Yuta nod slowly and you gripped your bat tighter. Leaning into your right leg, you breathed out slow as Yuta wound up, slow motion at first. You had to make the decision now, as Michima’s hand began to release the ball, your brain scanned all the possible solutions to the formula racing towards you. You had to choose.

It would be close to you, the left-hand corner of the square, teetering on ball vs. strike, but most likely a strike if you didn’t swing. The ball was hurtling towards you as you adjusted your feet, breathing out as you swung the bat through the air, cutting it low before bringing it up in an arced pattern.

The bat slammed into the ball, vibrating your fingers even through your gloves. For a moment, you couldn’t believe you just did that, watching the ball fly out, partially getting lost in the sun. Then reality came crashing back to you, bat flying from your hands as you rushed for first, aware that the trajectory of the ball would make you the primary target for the out.

The yells of both teams melted away, your vision going tunnel, your primary focus being that first plate. The corner of your eye saw the opposing team’s outfielders fumbled for the ball, finally securing it in his hand. You had only seconds now, putting in a burst of speed as you watched the ball soar towards first. Throwing all caution to the wind, you accelerated into a slide, dirt flying around you as your leg made contact with plate. You held your breath as you waited for the call.

“SAFE!”

You stood up, the biggest smile you could muster apparent on your face. Kuramochi, who had remained on third, jumped and whooped. You laughed, handing your helmet and pads over to the runner to your right. You had done it; you had hit the first pitch of your first game in Reality B AND had made it on to base.

Miyuki began to walk up to the Homeplate, and you calmed your buzzing mind, realizing that your task was far from over. A runner on first and third, prime scoring position. Your brain began to input and calculate likely paths the ball could take. The one factor that remained an anomaly wasn’t the wind speed or the battery. No, it was the damn catcher who appeared like a wolf about to take the life of a large piece of prey.

His look told you he’d take no prisoners and you became grateful that you were on his team, instead of being on the receiving end of his hits. You began to inch forward, sliding your body forward in a potential effort to steal. Michima eyed you, clearly offset by your pressure and the pressure radiating from Miyuki’s murderous aura. He threw the pitch, but it was wild. You sprinted for second, once again drowning out the sounds, determined to not be an out for the team.

“PASS BALL!”

Your foot hit the base as you heard the call ring out, Kuramochi happily jogging to home before returning to the dugout. Cheers rang out through the field, Miyuki taking a step back to swing the bat a few more times. Seido had scored, the team had awakened, and this was only the beginning.

But just as the high of scoring was settling in, Miyuki hit a fly to first. You barely had a chance to blink before the ball came flying by your head, right into the glove of the third basem*n. The closeness of the ball to your skull caused you to stumble and twist to the side. Your knee protested slightly, but you jogged back into the dugout, injury avoided most likely due to the thing you had dubbed “knee prison”.

Though every fiber of your being wanted to scold yourself, angry that you had run for third instead of remaining on second, you pushed it all away. It was time to switch gears, to get the outs, support the battery and get back to scoring. Entering the shelter of the dugout, you saw the first string preparing. Miyuki sat, gearing himself up while deep in conversation with Furuya. Catching your eye, he looked you up down and you suddenly had the urge to turn away. Weird?

“That sidestep out there… you good?”

At first, you were just confused, momentarily forgetting how you had swerved to avoid the ball, putting inevitable stress on your knee. When it finally dawned on you, your stomach flipped slightly.

He had been watching you?

No, why did that make your heart skip. Shaking your head a little, causing the catcher to raise his eyebrow you straightened yourself out. Bending your knee to confirm, you gave him a thumbs up.

“All good, hate to admit it, but the brace is helping.” You turned, not awaiting a reply, begging your heart to slow its pace, for your brain to focus. Since when did he have such an effect on you?

Suddenly, the newbie pitcher stood up, brushing you aside, and making his way to Coach. Grabbing your own mit and cap, you followed to see what would transpire.

“Let me pitch the entire game, Coach.” His voice was as plain and unfeeling as usual, but his eyes showed just how serious it was. You couldn’t help but trail your eyes to Sawamura, who had frozen in his spot. His expression tugged at your heart, a big sister protective nature sweeping over you. You knew you had a bias, Sawamura’s determination and never wavering spirit resonating with you. He wasn’t born with raw talent, just flexible joints and resolve. His skill had long to go, but you had faith in him that he’d make it there. It was the yips, the traumatic experience that echoed in his mind, that kept him stifled right now. You could relate to that, more than anyone here knew. And it bothered you how everyone looked at Sawamura with pity, not with faith.

“No.” You watched Furuya’s face fall, rare emotion appearing across it at Coach’s flat-out denial. “This isn’t a game for you. This isn’t about you.” You breathed, admiring Coach’s words. He would never sacrifice a game for one player. Each of you needed to do your best where you stood, no favors were going to be given.

“But, depending on how you pitch, I’ll extend your innings.”

With that the team ran out onto the field, your eyes remaining over your shoulder, watching the softpaw pitcher. Then, you turned to the team that stood with you on the field. Taking your spot on first base, you cleared your mind, calling encouragement and support towards Furuya. The first batter came up and your eyes were once again drawn to the dark haired, smug jerk you called a friend.

He crouched, looking between his pitcher and the opponent, you could practically see the gears turning in his mind. Maybe the reason you two worked so well together was because of the similarities in how you approached problems. You both balanced between logic and instinct. But Miyuki was another level, either due to his position or just himself. As he flashed a signal to Furuya, who immediately sent the pitch, you found yourself wishing you could be the one standing on the mound, the ultimate partnership. And as the ball smacked beautifully into Miyuki’s mit, over and over, the smack radiating across the field, your chest swelled with pride and elation. Because his eyes shown with an undeniable fire, a flame that would never go out, as he raised his fist in the air.

“BATTER OUT!”

And it may have been a trick of the light, an illusion of the sun, but you swore you had seen it. Saw, as the second batter walked off in defeat, Miyuki’s eyes land on yours and change. And, for a moment, you had a naïve, ridiculous thought that you scolded yourself for as quickly as it came.

I like him.

Furuya continued to strike out batters, leaving very little work for any of the field players. However, Seido was struggling when up to bat. The top four batters tried their best to hold their own, but you had to admit, none of you had performed very well since the first inning, even failing to score a double play. In all honesty, Furuya’s pitching performance was the only thing saving the team. Everyone knew it, including Sawamura. Still, he had boldly asked to replace him, but was denied.

Now, at the bottom of the sixth, it was clear that Furuya was beginning to tire. You kept your eyes trained on the batter that had made it to first, fuming. Furuya had been basically playing the last 5 innings by himself. You knew you should be happy; you had such a strong pitcher on your side. Nevertheless, something was irking you. A pitcher wasn’t supposed to only strike out, but make tactical plays, utilizing the entire field to his advantage. If he had done that, maybe he wouldn’t be struggling now, so early in the game.

“BALL!”

Another pitch, another ball called. You started to wish you were the catcher. You were ready to smack some sense into that novice pitcher.

“BALL!”

“Miyuki FIRST!”

You caught the ball just as your guarded player slide back into first, declared safe. You bit your tongue, keeping any comments to yourself. At least Miyuki had covered him, watched your player, successfully keeping them at bay, but barely. One more ball, and this batter would walk, advancing everyone one base. You exchanged a look with Haruichi, the same thought running through his mind.

Furuya slammed his arm down, but even from your viewpoint, you saw how much power it lacked, how off the trajectory was as it zoomed into Miyuki’s mit. Bowing his head slightly, he tossed it back. The players advanced and the air on the field became heavy. You looked around, saw the heads dropping, as if the game was already lost. Miyuki saw it too and you figured he was toying with a battery time out. You kicked at the dirt, refusing to remain useless.

“Hey Seido!” The field turned to you, mixtures of confusion and annoyance on their faces. You ignored it, pressing forward. “You can’t do anything if you’re not looking up!” A flash of shame rippled through them, realizing that you had just called them out. You wondered if the fact that you were a girl made it sting a bit more. Oh well, you’d use that to your advantage. You locked eyes with Furuya. “Do you want to stay on that mound!?” He nodded, Miyuki standing in the background, a sly smile gracing his face. You punched your mit.

“Prove it to me then!”

Just like that the energy shifted, the team became louder, encouragement rang throughout every single player, even the dugout yelling out to them. Miyuki caught your eye and nodded.

And with that Seido closed the sixth inning 4-6-3 double play. Kuramochi tackled you when you finished that play, getting the final runner out on first. You beamed at him as he ruffled your hair. The adrenaline burned through you as you gathered around Coach. You didn’t want to sit here, didn’t want to wait for the others to bat, you wanted to face it all, now. You hopped from foot to foot, the anxiety and excitement overflowing.

“Sawamura will pitch next. Furuya will go to left field.”

You froze, catching Sawamura’s face, ignoring the aura and arugment of Furuya. If you hadn’t known Sawamura so well, you would have thought he was elated at the idea of being on the mound. But his face…

His face screamed uncertainty between his wide, care-free grin. His muscles were stiff, his fingers fiddled with his glove, his pupils slightly dilating. Your protective nature returned, and you reached to pull him aside, but were met with a wall.

And suddenly you realized it.

No one knew that Sawamura had the yips yet. You had gotten your timeline wrong. You had watched this episode already, though you didn’t remember the outcome of the game. You already knew where this ended. Wracking your brain, one scene kept replaying through your mind, the one that had brought tears to your eyes.

Sawamura’s complete failure on the mound, his breakdown, his panic attack in the form of miscalculated pitching. And you were about to let it all happen.

Miyuki had put himself between the two of you, but you put a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged you off. You knew he meant well, was focusing on his pitcher, but… but no this couldn’t happen. How could he not see it? How was the all-knowing catcher so damn unaware when it mattered most? You couldn’t let Sawamura break like this, you had to protect him. As their backs disappeared into the bullpen your arm dropped to your side in realization. There was nothing you could do or say to change this outcome. You were completely powerless.

Hanging your head in defeat, you watched Kuramochi gain two strikes. You grit your teeth, begging him to buy them time. But your prayers remained unanswered as he struck out, signaling the changing of sides. You grabbed your mit, all positivity evaporating as you walked onto the field, Sawamura to your left. You feigned a smile, smacked his arm and wished him well. But it was almost too much to watch.

Scanning the field, you wondered if anyone else could sense what was about to happen. Your eyes fell onto Haruichi, who watched his friend with sad eyes. He noticed the lack of yelling, an uneasy silence surrounding Sawamura. Those two had been on a rocky path for a bit now, but Haruichi truly still cared about the softpaw pitcher with a big mouth. And so, did you.

You could read everything Miyuki was planning. Starting with an inside pitch, to play to Sawamura’s strengths. Sawamura wound up, you noted the stiffness in his form, his shoulder as well. The ball is way too low, Miyuki having to bend deep to receive it. You bit your lip as Miyuki signaled for him to loosen up. You shook your head; it wouldn’t be enough.

Pitch after pitch, runner after runner, you watched the slow downfall of the little ball of sunshine. Miyuki kept calling timeouts, but you knew, nothing he said would fix it. It was so much bigger than faith, than talent, than confidence. Sawamura had a traumatic memory running through his mind on repeat and he wouldn’t be able to shake it with a shoulder bump and sarcasm.

You watch as Miyuki points out to the field, reiterating that you all stood on that field together, a team, having each other’s back. You desperately wanted to end the game, to take the mound yourself, anything to spare Sawamura. But you stayed where you were, watching as Sawamura threw the pitch into the fence, a petrified aura surrounding his form.

You all gathered around him on the mound, Furuya running in from left field, mit outstretched. At first, you didn’t think Sawamura would give up the ball, his face still a blank state of shock. You reached your hand out to him but paused when he stepped towards to the taller boy.

“Sorry to leave you in such a pinch.”

With that, he began the long walk to the dugout, all eyes following him. You praised him silently as he left, his back straight, his head held high. You wanted to rush after him, to take him away from the field, the watching eyes. You’d give him a safe place, a place to feel. You’d give him what he gave you in this world. What they all had given you.

…

The game ended in a victory for Yakushi, the crowd whispering of “the downfall of Seido.” In the dugout, you flinched at the disappointment in Coach’s voice as he tore you all apart without even raising his voice.

“The positions you held today mean nothing. Your grade level means nothing. I don’t care who you are, if you are playing to the standard that I hold you to, you’re in the game. If not,” he stared every single on of you down, “I’ll bench you.” His eyes locked on yours and you gulped. Was this directed more to you than anyone else?

“Miyuki, Kawakami, L/N and Sawamura, my office.”

You trailed behind the other three, your palms sweating with anticipation. As you gathered around his desk, you placed yourself between Sawamura and the others. You wanted your presence to be a comfort to him, a supportive system in a never ending, dark tunnel.

“Miyuki, what is your assessment of Sawamura’s performance?” Coach asked the captain, who’s voice had adopted a deeper, more serious tone. You kept your eyes glued to the desk in front of you.

“He can’t pitch to the inside. He… he has yips.” The way Miyuki paused before admitting it told you that he hated to be the one to say it. It infuriated you that the Coach was making Sawamura sit through this, with such a large group, making someone he respected so greatly tell him such earth-shattering news. Not even tell him directly, but report it in front of him, as if he wasn’t even there.

“You have something to add, Y/N?” Your eyes snapped to the Coach, realizing that your eyes had given you away like they always did. You breathed in deeply, regaining some sense of composure. You weren’t going to make this worse for Sawamura. You turned away from the room, focusing only on the softpaw. You softened your face as best you could, quelling your anger.

“Sawamura-kun, how often do you think about that pitch to the head you threw?” You asked him directly but kept the soothing tone in your voice. You watched as his entire body tensed, his eyes widening slightly, lips pursing together as if to hold something in. You nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder. “That… that was traumatic. No matter that it was a foul play by the other team, it got to you. It’s playing in your mind every time that Miyuki calls for a pitch to the inside. It’s the same thing that happens to me when…” You paused, not sure if you wanted to admit it. “That happens to me when I slide into home. I remember my ACL tearing, the pain, the fear of never playing again. It gets to me.” You were keenly aware of Miyuki’s face changing at your words. Because you had never told him that, never admitted that to anyone. Focusing back on the pitcher, you saw Sawamura’s eyes become glossy. You pressed on, hoping that if it was you saying it, it would sting just a little less.

“It’s not your fault, that this happened. Our brains recognize patterns that aren’t even there. Your brain is telling you that inside pitches are dangerous. We should have taken you out of that game after it happened, maybe even before it.” Sawamura’s chin had dropped and you softly picked it up to look him in the eye. “Look at me.” He obeyed, dark eyes lacking the fire and innocence they usually elicited.

“A setback isn’t terminal.”

He nodded slowly as you smiled at him. You looked over your shoulder, now addressing the room. “For the future, when you speak about someone, you should speak TO them.” Your words hung in the air as you returned your gaze to the desk, your body tense. Miyuki dropped his head for a second at your words. You knew he was smart enough to connect what you were saying. He had been the only one to address you while you lay on home plate in agony. He knew better.

Coach didn’t mention your outburst, only dishing out instructions for Sawamura’s recovery. You knew he cared, you knew he wanted the best for all of you, but sometimes it just pissed you off. Sports didn’t have to be so cold.

As you all funneled out of the room, you pulled Sawamura aside, before anyone else could. He didn’t meet your eyes, even brushed your hand from his elbow. You persisted, aware that Miyuki lingered behind you. You felt his gaze on your back.

“Sawamura-kun, just… come to my room if you need someone.” He nodded silently, pushing past you, not even acknowledging Miyuki’s presence, making his way down the hall. You bowed your head, feeling utterly defeated.

Imagine your surprise when, later that night, as you strummed your guitar to clear your head, you heard a knock at your door. On the other side, stood Sawamura, who smiled through his tears as he choked out a simple phrase.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

Chapter 6: Pitch for Me

Chapter Text

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

He didn’t want to be there; you could see it written all over face. By being there, he was admitting weakness, admitting that he could no longer handle this on his own. You opened the door, gesturing for him to enter. He walked cautiously, like he was worried someone would attack him upon entry. You closed the door with your heel, turning your attention to the pitcher.

Your heart shattered as he fell into your arms, pulling you both to the ground as his body wracked with sobs. You took his weight, pressing your hand protectively over the back of his head. The tears seeped through your top, soaking your neck and shoulder. You had never seen someone so torn apart. He mumbled his grievances into the air, leaving them there to fade and dissipate.

He was grieving, grieving something you weren’t entirely convinced had been lost. You could practically hear the thoughts running through his head. Loss. He believed he lost everything tonight. Lost the spot on first string, lost the ace number, lost the one thing he considered to be unique about him. You took all of his emotions onto yourself. In your head, you cited indisputable evidence on why everything thought was incorrect. You remained silent though because he didn’t need evidence right now, he needed someone to listen.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there. Not aware of when you began to rock the pitcher back and forth, soothing tones leaving your lips. Slowly, his cries quieted, replaced with hiccups and sharp intakes of air. He melted into your lap, where you stroked his hair. You waited a moment before you began to speak.

“Eijun, do you want to talk to me?” You used his first name for the first time, hoping the familiarity and comfort that came with it broke down any remaining walls he had. He had trusted you enough to come here when he was so vulnerable but crying and communicating were two different beasts he needed to face. You felt his breath against your leg, evening out with every exhale.

“Why did they even ask me to join, when all I am is a failure?” You pondered the question for a moment. Snapping right in and saying, “no you’re not,” would invalidate everything he was feeling. He was fragile right now and you needed to tread carefully.

“Well, failure goes hand in hand with success.” He scoffed into your leg and you gently batted his head. “Hey! I’m serious. It’s not like we succeed at something and suddenly that it’s we are winners and will only ever succeed. We are always going to succeed and fail, they’re kinda like yin and yang. And failure leads to success. The more success we have, the more we have to lose, the more likely failure will occur as stakes rise. You can’t have one without the other.” He remained silent for a minute and you worried that he had closed his walls on you once again.

“You’re so corny, Y/N.” You laughed, giving his head another subtle smack.

“Watch yourself, you’re talking to your senpai.” His head shifted, brown pools staring up at you. His face was still sad, but it looked a bit less pained, less strained. You smoothed the bangs out of his face with great care. “Somethings are also completely out of our control. A bad pitch, Eijun. Just like a misstep leading to a knee injury, it just happens sometimes.” He sat up, acknowledging your words with a nod before staring at the door.

“I should probably get going.” You smiled. No matter what you said, he would still try to do this on his own. He didn’t want to bother anyone, didn’t want to burden people with his own problems. You knew that behavior, it was your own favorite pattern.

“You can stay here longer, if you need.” His eyes came back to you full of gratitude, a kindling of fire igniting for a moment. You stood up and sat down on the desk chair, while Sawamura took a spot on your bed. You truly couldn’t do fix it; the healing and recovery could only come from him. You’d support him while he worked his way out of this ditch of despair. You hadn’t fixed his problems, hadn’t given him any magic solution to feel better. But you had been there and sometimes, that’s all anybody wanted. You picked up your guitar and began to strum, humming a random melody. Sawamura leaned back into your pillows, eyes closing.

“Your voice… so pretty…” You continued on, strumming and humming as you watched the little pitcher fall into a peaceful sleep. You stopped playing, walking across the room to pull the blanket over him. He nuzzled right into it and you had to stifle a laugh. “Thanks… senpai” Sawamura breathed out. It wouldn’t be easy, but you knew he’d be okay.

You spent the next hour working on homework. You got through your history readings, drafted your literature review paper, and solved the 20 math equations assigned to you. You had just opened up your English translation homework when an urgent knock at the door rang out in the room, demanding acknowledgement. Sawamura shifted in his sleep and you hurried across the room, not wanting to wake the pitcher. It was odd someone would knock on your door at this hour.

Behind the door stood Miyuki, sports bag slung over his shoulder, bangs sticking to his head with sweat, like he had been practicing moments ago. Although, as you took in his full appearance, you almost didn’t recognize him. His glasses were askew, his hair messier than usual, and his chest rose and fall as if he just sprinted across the diamond. You opened your mouth to ask what was wrong when he grabbed you by the shoulders. His fingers dug into you just enough to make you flinch. You had never seen Miyuki frantic. It was extremely unsettling, but you tried to not let it show.

“Sawamura! Have you seen him!? Kuramochi hasn’t seen him for hours. Y/N we have to find him!” You placed both of your hands on Miyuki’s and pushed him off gently, bringing his hands in to rest on your chest. You breathed in deeply, watching as he involuntarily mimicked you.

“Miyuki. Calm down. Sawamura is with me.” He glanced from your room to you, appearing to either not understand or not believe you. Gently, you led him by both hands into the room, pointing to the lump that was Sawamura in your bed. Miyuki peered at him for a minute, like he couldn’t believe it was true, that the pitcher was safe and sound. He leaned up against the wall and sunk down, placing his face in his hands and audibly breathing in deeply. You sat down, cross legged in front of him. “He knocked on my door an hour and a half ago. We talked a bit and then I let him hide out here,” you explained gently, not sure if Miyuki even cared about the details. He rubbed at his face, frame relaxing slightly with relief. You both stayed silent for a bit. It wasn’t uncomfortable or sad, it just… was.

“I… I was imagining… the worst.” Miyuki’s voice cracked slightly, and you resisted the urge to run your fingers across his cheek. Instead, you nodded, encouraging him to continue. “I saw his face change that day. I knew something was wrong. And I let him keep pitching. I was supposed to protect him, that’s my job, I promised him I’d take care of everything. We’re partners and I failed him.” He picked his head up, eyes falling on the sleeping pitcher. He was sad, disappointed in himself, angry at his actions that he could no longer change. And today, he watched the consequences play out. Over and over again.

And yet you started to laugh.

Miyuki was absolutely bewildered at your outburst. You placed a hand over your mouth to try and contain it, but your body still shook with every giggle. Flabbergasted, Miyuki smacked your arm, causing you to dramatically fall over onto the floor.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… it’s just, you’re both so STUPID,” you whisper laughed, holding your stomach as you attempted to control the fit of giggles. Miyuki’s own frown was slowly turning up, you looked absolutely ridiculous rolling around on the floor. He jabbed his fingers into your side, causing you to laugh even more.

“Care to explain that!” He hissed out at you and you inched away from his relentless attack, regaining your composure. You placed your hands up in surrender as you fought to catch your breath. Smiling, you tilted your head at him.

“You both are carrying the blame all on your own, without considering all the other factors that weigh into the result.” His eyes widened slightly, not prepared to be called out so plainly, your matter-of-fact manner catching him off guard. You shrugged. “I thought you were smart? Everything from the wind and sun position to the placement of the batter,” your face darkened, “which I still think was fishy, determined that bad pitch.” Aware that Miyuki’s eyes were now glued to your face, you dropped your own to your lap, fiddling with your thumbs. “You’re both oversimplifying it, while also dwelling on the thing you can’t change. It’s time to focus on repairing your battery and building our team back up.”

Again, silence. This time, it left you a little more uncomfortable. Maybe you should have approached him in a manner similar to how you had worked with Sawamura. You weren’t wrong and you had figured Miyuki would do better with facts and explanations rather than insightful wisdom. Still, he wasn’t speaking now. You started to backtrack, ready to adopt your comforting nature when Miyuki stood up. At first, you worried he was about to leave, storm out of the room for your childish reaction. Instead, he grabbed your hand, pulling you up, pausing only for a moment to grab your sports bag, slinging it on his shoulder along with his own, before dragging you along after him.

“Miyuki, what are you doing?” He didn’t answer, just continued to tow you out into the brisk summer air. You shivered slightly, goosebumps rippling your skin, you wish he had let you take a sweatshirt. Your tank top and shorts were not offering much warmth as you walked. “Miyuki! Mind clueing me in?” You looked over his shoulder, annoyed that you still weren’t getting an answer, and realized he was dragging you to the bullpen. That was odd.

Shaking your hand out of his grip when you arrived, you rubbed your hands up and down your arms trying to generate warmth. Miyuki began to dig into your sports bag, and you growled. “Dude, get your hands out of my stuff.” You weren’t even surprised when he ignored you, zipping the bag up and tossing you your glove. You co*cked your head when you caught it. “What we couldn’t play catch right outside the dorms?” It was only then that you saw him pull his face shield from his own bag, a subtle smirk appearing on his face.

“Pitch for me.”

You gaped at him, eyes widening. “Why? You have three pitchers to choose from is that not enough? I barely know what I’m doing.” Miyuki began to walk back, tossing you the ball. You caught it on instinct, your body ignoring the fact that you didn’t want to pitch. Miyuki crouched down, taking his stance. He brought his mit out slightly to the side, what would be a beautiful strike.

“I want to see you pitch. Bring it to me, right here.”

His eyes were glinting in the moonlight and you found your resolve wavering. Truthfully, just today you were feeling jealousy over the battery. Before that, you had always admired the position of the catcher, loving how they controlled the game with every signal. A flash of memory ran through your mind, a middle school coach laughing in your face at the idea of you playing the catcher. You then proposed pitcher, the other half of the amazing battery, and was met with laughs again. That’s why you had become first baseman, it was the only position he’d give you.

You glanced up, breathing in deeply, every memory of sexism in baseball rocketing through your mind as you began your wind up. You locked your eyes on Miyuki’s mit, then rocketed your arm down, releasing the ball from your fingers and sending it straight into Miyuki’s glove.

An involuntary smile spread across you face and you bit your lip in an attempt to contain it. You stared at the hand that had held the ball moments ago and ran your thumb across the palm. It was so different. You had come to love your position, truly, but this feeling was addicting. You rolled your shoulder out before opening your mitt up. Your mind screamed “give it back to me.” You didn’t want the high to end yet. Miyuki pulled off his helmet, returning your smile with own.

“Nice pitch.”

You continued to pitch to every corner Miyuki asked of you, your smile growing wider with every passing praise Miyuki gave you. You cycled through different grips, watching as the subtle changes morphed your pitches. Every muscle in your body was utilized, every neuron firing in your brain. And receiving every single pitch you threw was the other half of the battery. Miyuki.

Your arm began to shake with exhaustion and Miyuki noticed, pulling off his face shield and tossing it aside.

“That’s enough, before your arm falls off, killer. We’re going to have to ice your shoulder now.” You protested, claiming it was his fault for asking in the first place. “I didn’t think you’d go this hard! Or frankly, do so well.” You flipped your loose hair over your shoulder.

“You should know. I don’t do anything half-assed. Now,” you lifted your mitt to him, “cool down catch?” He shook his head firmly.

“You’re going to injure your shoulder if you keep this up. We didn’t even have you stretch first.” You shrugged, shifting your mitt to your right hand and holding it up. Miyuki crinkled his eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

“I’m ambidextrous you idiot. That’s why I’m such a solid switch hitter.” Miyuki didn’t even try to hide his shock. How had he missed such a key fact about you? You noted his surprise and nervously tried to explain yourself. Had you really never told him? “Coach knows I think, but I usually just use my right for throwing because…”

“Because people can’t catch left-handed throws without practice.” Miyuki finished for you, keenly aware of how people in his own position struggled to catch for southpaws. Sawamura’s own face had lit up when Miyuki had actually caught his ball with ease. For a moment, Miyuki questioned why they were wasting you on first base when you had a complete arsenal of pitching skill and power, with a special ability to enforce it all. He chose not to dive deeper into that thought, figuring the truth would only upset you and piss him off.

You tapped your foot. “Come on, a couple tosses, and I won’t even bitch about icing my shoulder.”

He threw the ball back to you and a toss and catch began. You both stayed silent, listening to only the crickets and the smack of the ball against your mitts. It was a beautiful type of quiet, the serene and peaceful type that only occurred when you were completely safe, protected and loved. It had been too long since you had last experienced it. And here you were, in a reality that was not your original, but completely yours. Cherished and cared for more than ever before. Your mind began to slip into a daydream. Catching Miyuki’s last toss with ease, you flopped into the dirt, admiring the dark blue sky that was painted with an ocean of silver stars.

“Hey! What was that about icing?”

“Five minutes Miyuki and then you can plunge my arm into an icy hell.” He conceded with a scoff, clearly recognizing that there was no arguing with you, there never was.

You rolled the ball in your hand, memorizing every stitch, wrinkle and fray it possessed. You wanted to trap this moment in a jar, keep it by your bedside, there to open whenever you required it. But maybe the mere capturing of this instance in time would change the very state you loved so much. You sighed aloud, smiling slightly. A memory would have to do.

Miyuki plopped down next to you, his head resting next to yours, while his feet stretched to the outside, creating an open triangle. He watched you as you stared up at the sky, lost in a daydream or a memory. Your hair was down, he almost never got to see it that way. Your eyes reflected the stars, the moonlight illuminating your skin, which was covered in goosebumps.

“You cold?” He asked you, tracing a single finger up your arm. You shuddered at the touch, more goosebumps erupting around. He smirked, what an effect a simple motion had on you. You shot him a look, the look you always gave him.

“Well, someone dragged me out into the night air without a jacket, so not much we can do about it. Can we?” He chuckled at the dripping sarcasm. “It’s fine though, this is perfect.” Your eyes closed, a relaxed smile still gracing your face. Miyuki only wished he could take a picture, a permanent source of your happiness, though not sure a camera could even capture the moment.

He sat up, pulling off his sweatshirt and dropping it over you. You were confused at first, possibly about to protest, but the warmth of his body heat sunk into your cold frame and you huddled deeper into the makeshift blanket. Miyuki lay back down, admiring the sky alongside you.

“Why’d you bring me out here?” You asked after some time, voice sleepy and soothing. Miyuki considered the question. It had been an undeniable urge, as you sat there berating him for placing blame on himself. An idea that manifested while you collapsed into giggles at his idiocy. Something had come over him in that moment, a feeling he had never experienced. It swept him up, as he watched you completely let go in front of him. It took his breath away while simultaneously breathing life into his being. It made his heart swell, beat quickening just enough to be noticed. Along with it, his thoughts became uncontrollable, erupting from the locked box he buried them into. The thoughts that were captivated by no other than…

You.

You. Your laugh, your smile, the fiery glow of your eyes that reflected his own, the curve of your muscles that even school uniforms couldn’t hide.

You. Swinging your bat and hitting a home run. Cheering the team up whenever their stupid prides got the better of them. Sprinting across the bases, throwing caution to the wind while your performed risky moves to help further the game in their favor. You, in all your stubbornness, confidence, sarcasm, and brightness.

You. The only one who could taunt him as mercilessly as he did to others, who understood his brain, his thinking, sometimes even better than he did. The one who could be sweet and kind, but strong and powerful all at once. The girl who had walked on to a field of over 100 men and said she wouldn’t leave without a spot. The person who had become his confidant…

And all of these thoughts exploding into his mind frustrated him. Because he shouldn’t be feeling them, couldn’t be feeling them. He didn’t want to be feeling them. You were his teammate, his vice-captain.

For his entire life, baseball had dominated his life, influencing everything he did. He had goals that he refused to call dreams because he knew they would become a reality. He would go pro, holding onto this sport for as long as the universe would allow. Nothing was going to stop him; nothing could become a barrier to that ultimate destination.

And yet baseball had given him you. Thrown you into the equation that had once been so simple. And it’s not that you were a barrier, or an obstacle he had to overcome. Even he couldn’t define what it was. What pushed him back, away from the light that surrounded him when he was you. He couldn’t explain it but…

You weren’t a possibility.

“I like to catch when I’m frustrated.” Miyuki answered simply, pushing those escaped emotions back into their locked box where they belonged. You hummed at him, scolding him for continuing to be frustrated about something he could no longer control. You repeated yourself, about focusing on the present, setting goals for the future. You were misguided on why he was frustrated, but he wouldn’t correct you. Miyuki listened, feelings safely locked away, calmness and clarity returning as he followed your advice and enjoyed the present.

Chapter 7: So Beautifully Sad

Chapter Text

Your feet pounded into the soft earth beneath you, music blasting in your ears. You couldn’t even hear your controlled, forced exhales as you ran. The sun had yet to peak out, the sky a mix of warm blues, oranges, and purples. You cut through the dawn air, your sleepy fog melting away. Your head was clearing with every passing step.

You slowed your pace as your watch beeped at you, your cool down complete. Yet as you slowed, your mind became louder, thoughts more insistent on being heard. In an attempt to quiet them, you continued running. You just needed a little more time.

Practices had been rough. Sawamura had been forbidden from touching a ball, working only on his stamina and strength. He had yet to talk to you again, his face and voice giving away just how depressed he was. You hadn’t pushed, putting faith in the pitcher, his friends, and one stubborn catcher. They’d make it through. The rest of you had done countless batting and fielding drills, not ceasing until you almost collapsed in exhaustion. And as much as you hated to admit it, it was working. The players were showing where they stood, proving what position in the lineup they deserved. And then, Coach had to go and out you in front of everyone.

“Y/N,” he had called out suddenly, as you finished your 100th swing in the cages, “get on the mound.” You froze, gapping at the man, keenly aware of the tension that had rippled through the pitching lineup.

“Sir?” You questioned, bat dropping to your side, truly not sure how to respond. If you stepped on that mound now, your team may never forgive you. Your eyes found Miyuki and you gave him a “what the hell did you say” look. Surprise filled you when he put his hands up, shaking his head. If Miyuki hadn’t said anything, no one should know. Coach said nothing, merely pointed to the mound in front of him. It wasn’t a question, it never was.

You sighed, ignoring the eyes that followed you, all practice having ceased at the mere mention of you pitching. You stood on the mound, daring a look at the faces around you. They all seemed so small now, far away from you. You had worked so hard to be their equal, what was this energy radiating around you? It wasn’t kind, nor malicious, somewhere in between. Coach tossed a ball to you and then, shocked everyone by picking up the bat next to him.

“Miyuki, catch for her.”

Again, it wasn’t a question. Miyuki obliged, pulling his face shield down and crouching behind Coach, questioning if he wanted a helmet, to which he declined. That angered you, the childish refusal still running through you.

“I can easily hit you! I have no clue what I’m doing. Why would you trust me like that?” You spat out, kicking the dirt of the mound slightly. You were always sharp with Coach, your tongue never earning you more than a couple sprints. He couldn’t fault you for your honesty, only on your delivery which could use some work. He ignored your question, nodding to Miyuki to give you the signal. You shook your head in exasperation. Men were frustrating, no matter the age.

Miyuki placed his glove in the top left corner on the outside, a changeup. You rolled your eyes; it wasn’t even an easy pitch to start. Nevertheless, you took your stance, breathing in deeply. If the team blinked, they would have missed it, your arm snapping down, fingers releasing the ball in a beautiful swoop. Your pitch sailed towards Miyuki’s glove as Coach swung for it…

But this was a changeup, meaning everything was not as it seemed. The speed that the ball appeared to present with was a lie and he fell for it, swinging early, the ball sailing into Miyuki’s mit seconds later. Your chest swelled with pride.

Because Miyuki was smiling that way again, the way he had never directed at you before. The face shield darkened his features slightly, but you could still see it. His grin was a mix of pride and disbelief. How could you have kept such a secret? He tossed the ball back and you reluctantly caught it. You had hoped that had been it. But you threw three more pitches, Coach hitting two of them, the last forkball catching him off guard. Shaking out his hand, he pointed his bat at you.

“Now, switch arms.”

Your eyes widened, shaking your head at Miyuki in disbelief. While icing your shoulder, Miyuki mentioned that Coach couldn’t have any idea that you were ambidextrous, otherwise, Miyuki himself would have known. Coach kept detailed records of each player and not one of those files suggested you could do everything you did on your right, with your left. Yet here the three of you were, discussing it as common knowledge. Miyuki shrugged again, as confused as you were. Coach picked up on it.

“Show me what you did that night.”

He had seen you. He had watched you and Miyuki that night, coming to this conclusion. As you stood there, contemplating walking away, telling the Coach to use one of his real pitchers, you heard them. The whispers of the team rang through your ears as a new memory flashed through your mind.

You were a first year, standing in front of the Coach, your hair pulled up into a bun and tucked into your baseball cap. You weren’t fooling anyone though, your anatomy giving you away the instant anyone laid eyes on you. You spoke directly to Coach, eyes never wavering as the whispers rang out.

“What’s a girl doing here?”

“She could never survive here.”

“She’s kinda hot though, maybe we can keep her, something to encourage us?”

“This ought to be fun to watch.”

The memories were leaving a bad taste in your mouth and you turned the ball around in your hand. Frankly, you didn’t care anymore, everyone could go f*ck themselves.

You switched your glove over, adapting your stance and nodding at Miyuki to make the call. Your demeanor had changed, your presence on the mound had turned murderous. You weren’t playing around, weren’t scared of what anyone would think with this pitch. It was now just you, Miyuki, and an enemy. Miyuki put his mit out and signaled. Fastball, inside, close.

Glancing between Coach and catcher you shook your head. No, no that wouldn’t do at all. He’d hit it immediately. Miyuki signaled for it again and, again, you refused, throwing your own signal out to him behind your glove. He smirked behind his mask. He didn’t think you could do that one, but it was the best option.

You brought your leg up, locking eyes on your target and grinning devilishly. He wouldn’t hit it. Repeating that over and over in your head you brought your leg down wide, arm whipping over your shoulder. You didn’t breathe as you watched the ball soar to its destination.

And it was the perfect slider. It slammed into Miyuki’s mit with a satisfying smack, the catcher jumping up and tearing his face shield off.

“Hell yes, Y/N!” He yelled out, his own adrenaline high coursing through his veins as you smugly smirked at Coach. To your surprise, Coach didn’t scowl, or spit out a retort to your smugness. Instead, he smiled. Or, maybe it was more accurate to say, his forever frowning face straightened slightly. He put his bat down and looked across the team.

“Remember, don’t underestimate anyone. Dismissed.”

You grit your teeth; a target being now firmly placed on your back. You didn’t dare look at the three pitchers’ watching you, having thrown a pitch each one had considered their specialty. It’s not that you had thrown them any better than they would have, but the arsenal of pitches combined with the ability to switch arms, it would confuse any batter, even one as good as Coach. They wouldn’t see that though. Your teammates, your friends, would now see you as a threat.

Coach walked up to the mound, both of you keeping your eyes forward. He placed his large hand on your shoulder and patted it once. “Nice pitch. I’ll keep this in the back of my mind.” Walking away, you let out a breath, leaving behind the mound, the field, without looking back.

The teammates hadn’t mentioned your pitching since. They didn’t treat you differently, but everything felt off to you, tense. Kuramochi and Haruichi were the only ones, minus Miyuki, that hadn’t acted any differently. In fact, the two had asked for help in their switch hitting, which you happily provided.

But the one question that they would never be brave enough to ask you, the one that was on all of their minds…

Where the hell did you learn to pitch like that?

It was the pitchers you were worried about, though no one else would remember this after the initial shock wore off. You frankly weren’t a threatening presence for them. They already knew you were a switch hitter. You weren’t encroaching on any other territories besides pitchers. Nori had been avoiding you, Furuya’s aura sparked anytime you walked in the room, and Sawamura… he hadn’t looked you in the eyes.

This weekend, Coach had begrudgingly given the team the long weekend off, acknowledging that if he continued to run you the way he had, injuries would occur. Everyone had been ordered to go home, if able, and rest. Each of the managers had handed out a weekend exercise and drill packet that you were all to complete.

Home. You all had been told to go home. Yet, you were pretty sure you didn’t have one to go back to. And that’s why you were here, running at 5am on a Friday. You just… couldn’t do this today. Not here.

Miyuki slung his bag onto his back, shoving Kuramochi slightly at his ramblings. They were both heading to catch the trains home. It was too damn early, but they were in need of a change of scenery. He looked out over the field, the sun slowly streaming across the dew-covered grass. Then his eyes landed on a figure in the fog, hair swishing side to side with movement.

“Is that Y/N?” Kuramochi asked, having noticed Miyuki’s gaze. Miyuki nodded, eyes not leaving the girl.

“What’s she doing running this early?” Miyuki pondered as they walked. Kuramochi let out a sigh.

“Come to think of it, Y/N wouldn’t really have a place to go this weekend, would she?” Miyuki turned to Kuramochi, realization settling in. The way you carried yourself made it so easy for him to forget. You never had even talked about it to him. Next to him, Kuramochi began walking again, hands relaxing behind his head.

“Aw man, actually, it’s probably been just about a year since the accident. She’s probably trying to keep her mind off of things. She’s never been one to talk about that stuff.” Kuramochi shrugged, choosing to let you continue to run. Something stopped Miyuki’s feet, made it impossible for him to continue. Noticing his pause, Kuramochi called out. “Bro, you coming? You’ll miss the train.” Kuramochi followed Miyuki’s eyes to where they watched their friend and smiled. He wondered when it would click for you two. He patted Miyuki’s shoulders. “Go do what you need to do Captain. There’s another train at 10.”

Only when your legs felt like jell-o did you slow your pace, lungs burning slightly at the chill in the air. You knelt over your knees, sucking in air gratefully. Your mind was still a buzz, but a shower might do it. Then, you’d get changed and go. You bit your lip at the thought, nibbling away at the soft skin. It was only a hand on your back snapped you to your senses. You swung your arm around, only to be met with a block and a surprised face of a catcher. You pulled out your earphones, ignoring the flinch Miyuki made at how loud the music blasted from them.

“Miyuki? What are you still doing here?” You lowered your arm, wiping the sweat from your forehead and pulling your ponytail tighter. Your voice lacked surprise, it just sounded tired. Miyuki felt a pang of pity run through him, one that would surely piss you off. He decided to ignore your question.

“You need to do a cool down stretch,” He said simply, pointing towards to the ground, “I’ll help.” You didn’t even argue, which left him so unsettled. You never willingly followed any directions. But you collapsed onto the ground, stretching one leg over your other and allowing Miyuki to push it down. He hadn’t seen you this quiet before. Even when you were lost in thought, you were always mumbling to yourself. The silence continued as he stretched you. It soon became too uncomfortable to bear. “You going anywhere this weekend?”

You scoffed at him, sitting up to let him press your back down. “No. Aunt’s place is far and she’s out of the country for the next few months. I’ll just train here while you all slack off.” You got up from the ground, nodding to him and turning towards the dorms. “Have a nice time home, Miyuki-senpai.” The simple honorific made you feel miles away from him. You used it to mock him, not as a courtesy.

Why did this goodbye feel so… final?

The chills that had erupted across his body when Kuramochi told him Sawamura was missing returned, littering his arms in warning. Why, why did his mind go there? Before anything else? You…you’d never.

His body always seemed to have a mind of its own when it came to you. He reached out to your disappearing figure, breaking into a run, grabbing the back of your razorback and pulling you back. You furrowed your brows, shrugging him off, seeking explanation. But he didn’t have words, only this twisting inside him.

You noticed it, tired as you were, you couldn’t ignore it. He had the same face he had the other night at your dorm. Had he figured it out?

“You should come to my house this weekend.”

Your eyes widened, and Miyuki’s did too, as if he didn’t believe he had just offered that to you. You smirked at his reaction, letting out a small laugh and waving your hand.

“Go home, Miyuki. Spend time with your family. I have somewhere to be today anyways.”

You walked away, leaving him on the field, still contemplating what he had just offered. Your heart thumped against your ribs. You had wanted to say yes, to escape the overwhelming volume of your inner thoughts, of your spiraling emotions. But you couldn’t show anyone this side, couldn’t pass this burden to anyone else. It was your time to suffer, to bear this alone. You deserved it. And no one needed to see it.

Especially him.

…

Miyuki returned to his room, ignoring the events of earlier. He grabbed his headphones that he had left forgotten on his desk. Rummaging through his bag, he realized the stats book he had meant to take was nowhere to be found. Shrugging, he figured you had snagged it before he had the chance. Pushing down his pride and embarrassment from earlier, he headed to your dorm to ask for it.

He knocked once outside, tapping his foot anxiously as he waited. There was no answer though. He knocked again, louder, calling out your name as well. Sighing, figuring your music was blasting away in your earbuds, he jiggled the doorknob. The door swung open with ease and he stepped inside the room.

You were facing your mirror, away from him, a black dress tracing your silhouette elegantly. Your hair was tamed back into a braid. Your hands gripped the lace sleeves. Miyuki didn’t comprehend. Where would you be going, looking so beautiful… no, so beautifully sad.

As if in answer, you turned to him and Miyuki’s breath caught in his chest. Your tears glinted in the low light, rolling down your cheeks in silence. Your eyelashes were soaked, catching as many tears as they could manage. Miyuki just stared, taking in every inch of your wilting frame. Your eyes slowly met his, not even bothering to hide the pain you always tried so hard to never show.

“Miyuki…” You began, swallowing hard, as if the next words would take every ounce of your strength. He took a step forward at the mention of his name. You softly cried as you threw away your pride, your fears, your punishment.

“Please don’t leave me alone.”

Chapter 8: The Universe's Choice for a Sick Joke

Chapter Text

You looked out into the stands as you crouched in the batter’s box, anxiously scanning with your eyes. You had called her hours before you had left for the game, told her the time, the address, where to sit, everything. Why wasn’t she here?

She never had wanted you to play baseball. Had tried her hardest to get you to find another sport, anything else. You assumed it was all in good heart, that she didn’t want to watch you suffer and fight your way through life. There had been more than one time you had come home in tears because another coach had laughed in your face or teammates had told you to get lost. Another part of you figured that the interest in the one sport your father had played stung her unhealed wounds. He had left you both without a word and though you were determined to believe that it was for the best, you could see how much it still hurt her.

But in the end, she always gave you as much support as she could. She helped pay for training camps, found recipes that helped increase muscle build, and listened to your rants about various hardships. Mom never once complained and eventually even stopped telling you to try another sport. She saw you face light up when you spoke about the sport, how proud you were to come home from tryouts and proclaim you were on the Seido Baseball Team.

This was the first game she was going to be able to see since you had started high school. Money had always been tight, and her after school activities were at the same times as games, so she had only ever watched the live streams in secret during breaks. But this time was going to be different, she had promised she’d be in the stands, cheering you on. She had promised…

But you had played the entire game, scoring the winning homerun yourself as the pinch hitter, with one eye on the stands. You could pick her face out anywhere; it was so similar to your own. She even mentioned wearing all the Seido gear she could find in your closet. She had promised, and yet, never came.

You had called her after the game, but the phone went straight to voicemail. Your anger and sinking disappointment muddled into one as you went to walk to the bus before anyone else. Only, Coach stopped you, his voice the softest you had ever heard it.

“Y/N…”

The whole team had turned around, the out of character tone in Coach’s voice causing a stir to run through them. You raised an eyebrow, not in the mood to deal with Coach while also not feeling as particularly spiteful as usual.

Why didn’t you realize it right there?

“Y/N… please come with me and Rei back to the school.” Your face fell into confusion, and it was mirrored by your team. You co*cked your head at Coach, not understanding any of it.

You should have known something was wrong.

“What… why would I not take the bus? Did I do something wrong?”

Stop talking, just go, just go with them.

Coach glanced at Rei, his face still hard and unchanging. However, Rei’s told a different story. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes; her hands clutching a phone that was buzzing softly. You looked between the two, confused and slightly annoyed. Why did this feel so, secretive?

Don’t let them see you like this.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. Please, we will explain in a more private place.”

Trust her, follow her, get away from all of these eyes.

Rei’s voice was full of pleading, her eyes begged you to listen, to have faith in her. But nothing was adding up for you, as your brain tried to find the solution for the odd behavior, the request, the tears…

They’re pitying you, the universe’s choice in the subject of their sick joke.

“I… I don’t understand? Why can’t I ride with my team? I hit the homerun… I helped us win… am I being punished?” Why was today a day of betrayals? Why wasn’t she here? Why were all of these adults making you feel so small, too young to tell you what was happening?

Why didn’t you listen, damnit, why didn’t you just go?

“Y/N don’t make us tell you here.” Did Coach’s voice just break? Was he angry with you?

Why can’t you trust anyone around you? Why now? Stop being so damn stubborn.

“Are you… kicking me off the team?” The worst possible thing you could imagine in that moment was having your dream-made-reality taken away from you.

You were so wrong.

Coach didn’t directly answer you. “Everyone, head to the bus. Y/N, stay here.” No one moved, until Coach yelled out the order again, aggression seeping through his tone. They sprang into action. You continued to glare back at Coach but obeyed him.

They all left except two, two who refused to leave you on your own. If they were trying to kick you off the team, they’d fight for you. They stood behind you, Coach not even attempting to question their presence. You weren’t even aware they were there.

Y/N I’m so sorry…

Until they both caught your collapsing frame. You shook your head furiously, no, no, this couldn’t be true. It was just a sick joke.

Car accident… drunk driver…

Your screams echoed throughout the stadium, pain, grief and disbelief manifesting in one, long cry of misery.

Died on the scene…

You pulled against the arms that were holding you, cursing your lack of strength, cursing everything. You hit them, clawed at them, at yourself but they never wavered, kept you close to them. You found no safety in their arms, no comfort. All you could recognize was the lack of oxygen, the never-ending echo of their words in your ears. The combination of doubt and comprehension of the truth ripping you apart from the inside. How could something mutilate a being to such an extent and yet, not a drop of blood would ever fall?

Miyuki and Kuramochi held you there, too stunned to speak, not even knowing what they could say to bring you peace. They just held your broken pieces, not able to tear their eyes away from you. Why had the world chosen you as the pawn in its own cruel game? Slowly, your cries ceased, replaced with hollowness in your face and unmoving eyes.

“It’s all my fault…” you whispered out into the silence, scarcely allowing yourself to breathe.

“Y/N…” Miyuki began, his hand trembling slightly on your head. You didn’t acknowledge him, continuing to remain hidden behind your hair. He knew you had asked her to come. You had told them both so excitedly just the other day, had prided yourself in your use of persuasion. Miyuki didn’t matter, Kuramochi didn’t matter, none of this mattered. f*ck the win, f*ck Seido, f*ck baseball, f*ck the world.

“I wish it was me.”

The four exchanged glances, the same thought running through their minds. Why… why then had your voice sounded… normal. As if you had just found the truth, the solution to the pain and problem.

“It should have been me. Take me instead. Give her back to me.” Your head fell back into Miyuki’s lap, gripping his legs with your hands, as if he was the only thing keeping you in the land of the living. They all watched as your grief and guilt consumed the person they once knew. And they wondered if they’d ever see her again.

As Miyuki held you in your black dress, sinking you both to the floor, a year to the day, he became angry with himself. There was so much he should have done during this year that he had never did. You just seemed so okay, you came back to practice the next week and never spoke of it again. You laughed with them every day, stubborn and argumentative, your game never affected. Weeks later you’d tear your ACL, facing all therapy and surgery alone, with a determined grin etched on your face. Had everything you’d done been for them? A lie you told those around you so no one would ask about the demons in your head.

How could he have let himself believe that you were fine? Was it for his own selfish comfort?

He held you just as he did that day, your head cradled in his lap, hand on your hair. However, different from before, his other hand grabbed yours, the one that scratched at your chest. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed. And, unlike back then, you acknowledged his presence. You brought his hand up to your cheek and pushed it against you. It grounded you, kept you from falling into the abyss of your own misery.

“She should be here,” it was barely a whisper, Miyuki leaning over just to catch the last words as your voice fell away. You sniffed, still not rubbing the tears away because you knew they’d only be replaced by more. “Why did I tell her to come? She’d be here if I had just kept quiet.” Miyuki rubbed his thumb on the back of your hand, soothing and soft. You leaned into the touch, hating yourself for a list of reasons you could never admit. And a fear, a fear you hadn’t realized you possessed took root in your very being.

So, who’s next on your path of destruction? Who will I bring despair to now?

“You shouldn’t get close to me, Miyuki. I hurt everything I touch.”

Your breath left your lungs at the force of which you were pulled up, one swift motion taking the wind from you. You came face to face with the catcher and his face was so…

Angry.

“Cut that sh*t out right now.” He growled out, his hand clenching around yours in a painful grip. You blinked at him, searching his eyes for an explanation. He realized then that you believed everything you were telling him. And it pissed him off more than anything. He raised his free hand to your chin and pulled it to face him, not allowing you to escape his intensity. You hadn’t seen this from him, ever. “No one would be better off without you. Not me, not Kuramochi, not Bakamura, or Haruichi, or any of our team. Not our classmates, not your aunt,” you opened your mouth, but he shut it with a swipe of his thumb, “and especially not your mom.” He let you sit with that for a moment, his words echoing in the room. And then, you threw your arms around him.

“I miss her so much,” you whispered into his neck, tears falling once again, soaking his neck. He wrapped his arms around your small, muscular frame. How could someone so strong be so small? He could lift you with one arm if he wanted, he wished he did. He wished he could take you far away from the pain, the trauma, the memories. Back to the diamond, put you on the mound, watch your fire spread through everyone, with a ferocity that could never be smothered.

Oh, how he wished he could just protect you.

“I…” he hesitated, causing you to shift in his arms. When you pulled your face back to look at him, he was blown away with the concern that filled your eyes. Why, even now, were you worried about him over yourself?

And why did that scare him?

“I’ve felt that before. That truth, that suffocating, heavy, painful truth that no matter what you do, or say, or beg, you can never go back, and they can never come home.”

How had he just explained your feelings so eloquently? Once again, proving how little you really knew about the catcher.

A single tear rolled from your eye and Miyuki swiped it away with his thumb, a small smile on his lips. His hand lingered on your cheek, relishing in the softness, the subtle dip in your cheekbone. His other hand found yours and intertwined your fingers once again, as if they had always belonged there. You couldn’t look away from his dark brown pools, as the pain slowly ebbed back into its lockbox. Your body leaned slightly forward, though you weren’t sure you had asked it to. He mirrored your movements, leaving your faces inches away from each other. Your eyes wandered down to his lips, your cheeks blushing slightly at the heat his hand was providing.

Swallowing fear, grief, and judgement, you stretched your neck up and placed your lips gently on his forehead. With it, you willed every feeling in your heart that had his name marked upon it into his own being. Maybe with this, his own pain would soften.

He didn’t move away from your lips, he didn’t push your body back. In fact, you might have seen his body soften as you pressed into him, your sweet gesture relaxing his entire frame. His eyes watched you as you sat back onto your heels, your face still glistening with forgotten tears. And then, it was over.

You breathed out, aggressively wiping at your tears. You stood up, Miyuki scrambling up beside you, confused by the sudden change. You smoothed out your dress and smiled at him.

“Thank you for being here, I’m sorry you saw all of that,” you gestured to the floor and bit your lip, “and for making you late for your train! I need to get going to pay my respects and then I’ll…” He grabbed your hand and pulled you out the dorm, barely giving you time to slip on your flats. “Miyuki… if this is pitching again, I really can’t pitch in a dress.” But he shook his head, not dragging you to the fields like he did before. Instead, he pulled you to his room, placing his hands up outside the door.

“Wait here.” You stepped forward to argue, but the door was effectively slammed in your face. You sighed loudly, rolling your eyes at the secrecy. Alone, your mind began to wander to Reality A.

The storyline hadn’t been that different in Reality A. You had been chosen as the soloist for your prefecture division. You sang your solo with every ounce of your heart, not aware of the tires screeching and the life leaving your one companion in life. Actually, the only main difference between the two realities?

When you were told, you had been all alone, as you always were.

The door flew open, shocking you out of your thoughts and causing you to trip back. In front of you, stood the catcher, but unrecognizable.

He was dressed in black slacks and a black button down, his hair smoothed down and tamed. You had never seen him so formal, so clean. Your eyes swept him up and down, not understanding that this man in front of you truly was the catcher you had known for almost three years.

“Let’s go see your mom, Y/N.” Your eyes widened, comprehending his words without fully believing them. Since when was Miyuki so selflessly kind. You hadn’t heard him say a sarcastic thing all day, not even a smart comment. “Y/N,” you focused your eyes on his, “you’re staring.” He snickered, posing slightly. You pushed him back.

Well so much for that streak.

Reaching your hand up, you ran your fingers through his hair, staring directly at him. His face became panicked, backing up against the door. With a laugh, you ruffled his hair, sending it back to its relaxed, messy look. You smiled at him, genuinely, a small ounce of relief quelling the sadness within you. His glasses askew, he glared at you, shocked that you had ruined his just straightened hair. You winked.

“Mom doesn’t like uptight pretty boys; she’d prefer you like this.”

And with that, you both walked, Miyuki’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you forward with a reassuring strength.

Maybe your existence didn’t have to mean pain.

Chapter 9: You Really Think This is Real?

Chapter Text

Miyuki stared down at the scorebook in his hands, making note in the margin to discuss later on. Your head rested on his shoulder, lulled there by the subtle movements of the train and Miyuki didn’t bother moving it. He was just grateful you had allowed yourself to rest. He wasn’t sure how he had convinced you to accompany him back to his hometown. He figured it was because the fight had all but left you.

Keeping your smiling, “it’s all okay” act up the entire visit to your mom’s grave must have been exhausting. You had said your blessings and prayers, introduced Miyuki, and then presented your offerings. You hadn’t addressed Miyuki directly much, hadn’t reminisced about the memories of your mother. He didn’t push you to do more, say more, let out any more emotion. The amount you already had was rare for you, you both knew it.

“Come back to my hometown for the weekend. It’ll be fun. We can work on some game plans too.” He had readied points to debate with you, prepared for any argument you would throw. Which is why he was so surprised by your answer. Your face taking up the disbelief, yet hopeful look he had become accustom to.

“Are you sure it’s alright?”

And now here you both sat, about to pull into the station, closer than before, closer than either had ever allowed. Miyuki was perfectly content to allow you to sleep on his shoulder on the train ride home.

The train began to slow as you reached your stop, your eyes not even stirring at the screeching of metal and the lulling of speed. Miyuki placed his hand on your forearm and shook you gently, calling your name out against your ear.

You awoke to the goosebumps rippling down your neck at his breath, Miyuki smirking down at you from where your head rested against him. You shot upright, straightening your back and cracking your knuckles nervously.

“Nice nap?” Miyuki asked innocently, his grin mischievous. You stuck your tongue out at him, silently begging your heart to slow down, for the heat in your cheeks to disperse. Since when did Miyuki fluster you? He stood up, unaware of your inner thoughts and pulled down your bags from the overhead compartment. Nodding towards the doors, both bags slung over his shoulders, he walked out, you close behind him.

You both made your way out of the station and towards Miyuki’s house, discussing baseball and upcoming games. Your steps got lighter as you spoke, the pain and heavy guilt that usually followed this day evaporating in the late afternoon air. Miyuki took note of the lightness as well, relishing in his own relief to see you back to yourself.

You walked up to a factory, attached to a small house. You ran your hands over the metal screwed into the brick wall as Miyuki fumbled for his keys.

MIYUKI STEEL

You had never asked Miyuki about his family. The train ride from Tokyo had only been a little over an hour, yet you had never seen Miyuki’s parents at a game. Granted, not many of the player’s parents came to watch you all, but that’s because they all lived far off. If your memory served you correctly, Kuramochi’s parents had been the only ones you had seen repeatedly.

But Miyuki was so talented. A clear promise to go pro, a prodigy that even an amateur could pick out and it unsettled you to know that no one had made the effort to see that, to praise him and proudly state their relation to him. From behind you, Miyuki cleared his throat, door swung open.

“You going to keep admiring an old sign or are you coming inside?” His tone was bored and teasing, causing you to roll your eyes and follow him inside, any thoughts of his family drifting into the back of your mind. He dropped your bags off in the living room, making his way to the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, glancing between the stove and the catcher. He stared back, genuinely confused by your lack of answer. His expression caused you to bite back a laugh.

“Are… are you serious? You? Cook?” You contained your laughter, but there was no denying the smile of disbelief spreading across your face. Miyuki crossed his arms in offence. He yanked open the fridge and started pulling out vegetables, beef and broth. With a blink of an eye, the counter was covered in utensils, pans and a rice cooker, Miyuki expertly chopping at the vegetables. You didn’t believe what you were seeing, let alone the savory smell filling your nostrils as he cooked. You stood up, crossing over the kitchen and chopping at the peppers. “So, why are you hiding these skills from the rest of us?”

Miyuki let out a hollow laugh, dumping the chopped ingredients into the pan, lower the heat as they sizzled and cracked in the oil. “You’ve seen those guys using my room as a hotel, right? Imagine if I provided food too? They’d never leave.” You covered your mouth as you laughed, realizing how correct that assumption was. Miyuki nodded to the barstool, shooing you from his kitchen. “You slice like an animal. Stop ruining the process.” Hands up in surrender you obliged, lazily spinning the stool and taking in the room around you.

There were a few pictures resting on a shelf in the living room, but mostly the walls were bare. Beer cans littered the surfaces around them. You found yourself fighting the urge to clean up as you waited for Miyuki to cook. Standing up, you ventured over to the three photos on the shelf, hands tracing the spines of the books behind them.

“You read these?” You asked, noticing a few of your favorites gracing the shelves and filling you with nostalgia. Miyuki looked up for a moment from his work and nodded at you. “Catcher in the Rye is my favorite.” Miyuki scoffed at you.

“Holden is such an asshole though. I liked the book but wanted to punch that guy right in the face.” You grit your teeth at the comment, remembering every argument you had ever had in defense of that book.

“He’s supposed to be an unlikable, snarky, asshole. Because the world made him that way, the adults that failed to protect him, the universe that decided that this kid needed to suffer.” You ran your fingers across the printed letters of the title and sighed. “He was just a kid that was angry at the world, rightfully so, and no one cared enough to listen. You’re not supposed to like him, but you’re supposed to empathize with him.” You picked up the closest photo and brushed the layer of dust off it with your fingers.

“I guess I never analyzed it that deeply, figures your brain would make all of those connections.” You smiled slightly at the comment, Miyuki knew you, the real you. In your hands, the photo was finally clean from dust. A man and woman stood smiling, a tiny baby cradled in her arms. The man held her close, the baby laughing happily up at them. A twinge of sadness hit you when you remembered the state you had found the happy memory in. As if someone was trying to hide it, forget it, cast it away.

“Analyzing me now, are you?”

You jumped at the sudden appearance of Miyuki’s voice behind you. Carefully placing the photo back down, you turned around and co*cked your head. You studied his face, his posture, his breathing pattern. He wasn’t closing off his body from you, nor was he fidgeting nervously. He was watching you, raising an eyebrow as you continued to stare. “You’re being weird Y/N… you sure you’re good?” You laughed, swatting away the hand that raised to take your temperature.

“You accused me of analyzing you, so I figured I’d try it out.” You walked back to the bar stool and spun it around like a child. “Turns out, you’re still just an asshole with glasses who’s good with a mitt.” Miyuki glowered at the comment, grabbing two bowls and topping them with his creation. He paused before handing it to you.

“You allergic to anything?” You looked up at the ceiling, pondering for a moment. You waved your hand, taking the bowl from him.

“Bees and grapefruit, can’t blame those if I die from your cooking.” You laughed, twiddling your chopsticks in your hands. Miyuki stared at you.

“Bees? And grapefruit? How’d I not know that?” He sat down next to you, not reaching for his own food, causing you to pause. You shrugged at him, not understanding the big deal.

“We don’t often sit around talking about our health history, do we? Not really riveting high school baseball conversation.” You took a bite of your food, eyes immediately lighting up and grabbing Miyuki’s arm. “The hell! This is amazing!” Your mouth was still full of food, causing you to choke slightly as you exclaimed how impressed you were. Miyuki patted you once on the back with a laugh. “Seriously Miyuki, where the hell did you learn to cook like this!?”

It was Miyuki’s turn to ponder for a moment, chewing his own creations with a satisfied smirk. “I started cooking for myself in middle school. I was awful at first, but practice really does make perfect.” You took another bite, allowing the flavors to explode across your tongue in perfect harmony. You didn’t realize Miyuki was watching you, smiling softly at your content face. Was he trying to make up for all the times he hadn’t been there before, or was this something more? He couldn’t answer his own question, but he wasn’t sure it mattered at all. You were here.

And for the first time, the house he had lived in for his whole life, felt like a home.

You both continued to eat in a happy silence, enjoying the delicious food that filled your bellies. You still couldn’t believe that the catcher was this talented at something besides baseball.

“Your mom and dad must miss having you around if you’re this good at cooking! I’d never let you go to Seido.” You smiled at him and he returned it. Still, you noticed the slightly forced corners of his lips, the way he closed his eyes quickly, breathing deeply. You recognized it, a look he gave when Coach expressed his disappointment. It was the look of pressure, of weight pressing down on his shoulders. “Miyuki? Did I say something wrong?” He shook his head, donning the sh*t eating grin you knew so well.

“Not at all. My dad’s diet is beer and whatever is around, I don’t think he even knows when I’m here or not. Maybe he notices the change in diet for the few days I’m around.” He laughed as your own smile died away, the avoidance and masking tactic too familiar. Yet you had never seen him do it, not once. “And my mom, well, she got really sick when I was about three. Died when I was four.” His voice broke and he cleared his throat to cover it up, shoveling more of his dinner in his mouth for good measure.

Remembering the conversation you had shared while he held you in his arms merely hours ago, your heart caught. Miyuki understood more than you had ever realized. You claimed to know everything important about your team, your friends. You thought you had everyone down, had figured out secrets and feelings with your brain and puzzle solving.

You were so naïve, yet again.

Ignoring his indications to change the subject, you grabbed his hand and squeezed. His eyes went from your intertwined hands and your face, confusion riddling his frame. You smiled warmly.

“Thank you for everything today Miyuki. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Releasing his hand as quickly you had taken it, you scraped the last of your meal into your mouth and stretched. Miyuki still stared down at the hand you had been holding. You grabbed both empty bowls and made your way to the sink, humming to yourself as you cleaned.

He watched you. You, in an environment he had never observed you in, perfectly content and calm. Miyuki breathed in deeply, placing his head in his hands. Why did you do this to him? A simple touch and he was falling apart, a war waging inside himself. The urge to pull you close, never releasing you from his sight. But he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

This wasn’t something that could be made a reality. You would be a distraction and he would be one to you, from whatever it was that drove you forward. He’d already decided that, already told himself that.

But why was his heart beating so fast?

“Miyuki? Are you alright?”

Stop. Stop with the concern in your voice and that sweet way you always used to say his name. If you kept doing this, he wasn’t sure how long his control would last. How long he could deny the gravitational pull to be one with you. Smiling, Miyuki waved off your worries, along with his feelings, stubbornly returning them to their box, begging them to stay shut away.

Because if he ignored it, they’d die, wouldn’t they?

He led you to his room, dropping your bags next to his bed. You surveyed the space. It was simple and well kept, fitting for the guy you knew. Baseball trophies, magazines and pictures littered shelves. You laughed at the same sh*t eating grin donning the miniature Miyuki’s face. You turned around, holding the photo.

“Look how ADORABLE you are!” Miyuki’s face turned into a scowl as he snatched for the photo. You, however, expertly dodged underneath his arms, kicking his knee in for good measure. He stumbled forward, you giggling as you put distance between him and you, arming yourself with a pillow for good measure. “A catcher’s knees are pretty important; don’t you think Y/N? Be careful where you kick!” His voice feigned anger well, you almost believed him. But the grin, just like the picture, betrayed him. You threw the pillow at his face, cleaning knocking the glasses off his face.

A shock went through your body as you watched his glasses fall to the floor. It wasn’t a pain, but it wasn’t pleasant either. It brought you to your knees, a hand to your chest as if the wind had been knocked out of your lungs. Why? What was this feeling?

A memory flashed through your mind, your first day in Reality B. A pillow was thrown, glasses fell, limbs intertwined.

“Do you really think this is real?”

The voice, hollow and unfamiliar, sent shivers down your spine, as you struggled for air.

“Do you really think you can remain in a dream?”

You were vaguely aware of a shadow of a person walking towards you. Except, your vision was blurring, the room was shifting, like a TV with a bad connection.

“Time to return to reality.”

You blinked hard, breath quickening as you began to see your tiny bedroom, the alter for your mom in the corner. You shook your head furiously.

“No, no, no please let me stay.”

Miyuki, suddenly realizing something was wrong, called out to you, confused as to why you thought he would make you leave. He cracked a joke, but you couldn’t hear, the voice inside your head taunting you.

You screwed your eyes shut, focusing on Seido, your team, the baseball diamond. You felt the bat in your hands, the vibration the remained with you as you hit a pitch out of the park. You ran your fingers over the stitches of a baseball, seconds before you sent your arm flying down. The faces of Sawamura, Haruichi, Kuramochi, everyone, swam through your mind. And, walking towards you, a savior you didn’t realize you needed, came him. Messy brown hair, glasses slightly askew, warm eyes you continued to lose yourself in, and that damn sh*t eating grin. Just like the first day you met him.

If this wasn’t reality, then why did your heart flutter every time you locked eyes with him?

“Y/N! Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Arms enveloped you, lifting you from the ground and sinking your weight into a mattress. You became aware of how fast your heart was racing, at the rate that you were inhaling, scarcely exhaling. The bed dipped as he lay next to you, pulling you into his chest. You pushed back, trying to gain control of the situation, of the pounding in your ears and chest. He overpowered you, hushing you with simple, comforting words. You you’re your tears at bay, trying to push away the thoughts of what could have occurred. After some time, you finally relaxed, allowing yourself to return to a baseline. “You’re okay. I got you.” You hummed apologies into his chest, subtly drinking in his scent of sweet burnt sugar. He shook his head, releasing you slightly.

“Anxiety attacks happen Y/N. You’ve had a sh*t day; your body is exhausted, and your brain is too. Just,” he ran his hand through your hair, pushing some behind your ear, “try to sleep now, okay? We’ll have fun this weekend. So just, rest.” You breathed out loudly, stress and fears slowly ebbing away with every word he spoke. You couldn’t tell him the truth, that you may one day disappear from this world, from his memory, gone without a trace. How the very threat, the very idea of it, scared you more than anything else in the world. You couldn’t say anything to him, and yet…

He was the only one you wanted to tell.

Gripping his t-shirt, you pull him into you, wrapping your arms around him to ensure there would be no space between the two of you.

“I don’t want to lose everything I have here.”

He tensed in your arms, though you paid no mind to it. Because you were unaware of what Miyuki had been thinking in the kitchen, not even an hour ago. You didn’t have the slightest idea that, in this moment, Miyuki came to the conclusion that you too didn’t want your relationship to change. That the mere idea of it had sent you into an anxiety attack.

He wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you slightly before he rested his chin on your head.

“I won’t ever let you lose a thing, Y/N.”

Chapter 10: When the Tide Turns Fierce

Chapter Text

You laughed as Kuramochi enthusiastically leapt into the air, desperately trying to catch the high ball you had thrown. You dug your toes into the dry sand, the little coarse pieces burying your feet. Turning towards the ocean, you smiled in contentment as you watched the waves pull in and out of shore. The sun was warm on your skin and you silently hoped your baseball tan would even out a little today.

The annoyingly loud voice of Kuramochi had pierced your ears this morning when you answered the phone. He screamed about a team beach day, threatened to demonstrate his new wrestling moves on you if you did not show up, and didn’t even question why you were answering Miyuki’s cell. In hindsight, his call had come as a much-needed distraction from the awkward tension that rested between you and the catcher.

You had woken this morning in a fog, dried tear tracks gracing your face. The light was streaming through the blinds and you had pushed yourself back into the blankets, hoping for a few moments more. But that’s when it all hit you.

Because your back met another body, your subtle movement against him causing his arms to squeeze you closer. He rested his head in the crook of your neck, fully sound asleep, and your lungs forgot that their sole job was to take in air. Your attention snapped once again as Miyuki rolled his hips against you. Your face slowly reddened as you recognized the feeling against your lower back as…

You had forcefully rolled away from him, breaking his hold on you and nearly falling off the bed. His eyes had shot open, appearing confused, then widening in realization. You had hurriedly escaped from the room, claiming need for a shower, but truly hoping to escape your embarrassment. Back pressed against the bathroom door, you had taken in slow, deep breaths. You hated your hormones at that point, just as much as Miyuki did in the room next door. The rest of the morning had passed in awkward silence until his phone rang.

You let out a long sigh, bringing yourself back to reality in time to catch Kuramochi’s hard pass. You slipped off your mit, rolling out your shoulder and heading back towards the group of boys by your towel. They were huddled together, whispering feverishly and you raised an eyebrow skeptically. Your team was clearly up to no good, but you had no energy to figure it out. Instead, you settled down onto your towel, allowing the warmth of the sun to soak through your skin. The beach was oddly deserted today and you were enjoying the peace and serenity, only acknowledging the sound of the waves.

“Pssstttttt! Y/N!”

You groaned at the sound, placing your arm over your forehead to block out the annoying catcher. To your dismay, toes began to prod your ribcage with vigor. You giggled slightly at the annoying feeling, helpless to your sensitive tickle response. Kuramochi snickered, continuing to prod you.

“What do you two want besides proving that you are the bane of my existence?” Your voice didn’t even attempt to cover up your displeasure. Miyuki had also joined in the prodding. You groaned and opened your eyes, taking a moment to adjust to the tinted view from your sunglasses.

“Do you want to help cheer up Sawamura?” Miyuki asked, sounding more genuine than was to your liking. You sat yourself back on your elbows, glancing towards to the group of first years. The three were playing catch, but you didn’t miss the subtle bouncing leg of anxiety as Sawamura tossed the ball. You nodded at Miyuki, a pain rippling through your chest as you felt the emotions spilling from your first year.

“Of course, what’s your plan? I already told you that I think Chris is our best option.”

“Him and the others are already on their way here. But Kuramochi and I have a better plan.” His glance towards the other caused your hands dig into the towel, that look spelled trouble. Before you could even open your mouth, your instinct was proven correct.

Kuramochi grabbed your waist, hoisting you up in one fail swoop. You let out a screech as he placed you over his shoulder, Miyuki plucking your sunglasses from your head. You kicked and punched Kuramochi, who laughed in his most hyena fashion as he headed to the ocean with speed.

“Remember Y/N, it’s all for Sawamura!” Miyuki yelled as Kuramochi hurled you forward, you holding your breath just in time. The ocean swallowed you up, the sting on impact sending an unpleasant feeling across your body. You pushed yourself to the surface, dramatically flipping your hair back as your broke the surface, sun glittering on the water droplets you sprayed out. You turned your head sharply, enjoying the sight of Kuramochi’s dying smile. You lunged forward at him, harshly pulling him into the water.

“Did you have to throw me!? You asshole!? You’re lucky I used to swim competitively! That tide was strong!” You screamed out, stepping forward, ignoring the growing crowd of the team. You were so immersed in your attack on Kuramochi, you failed to notice him until his hands wrapped around your waist.

“Now, now Y/N don’t be a sour sport.” Miyuki cackled out as you pulled at your restraints. Glancing towards the shore, you reached a hand out to your first years.

“Eijun! Haruichi! Furuya! Please, help your senpai!” You reached up and tugged on Miyuki’s hair, effectively causing him to loosen his grip. You wriggled free, just as the first years attacked the vulnerable catcher. You laughed at the sight, Miyuki completely helpless to the onslaught. He fell into the water, the first years following him. You stood up and clapped your hands. “Alright boys, don’t drown him, your senpai is avenged.”

“Having fun there captain?”

You turned toward the familiar voice and felt a smile break across your face. The third years had appeared on the shore, Yuki leading the pack. You ran out of the water, the others close on your heels. You leapt onto Ryo, the older Kominato just barely bracing himself for the onslaught. Warm memories of your friendship filled your head, Ryo sleeping in your dorm after your mom’s passing, working with you on your physical therapy exercises, improving your batting average… all of it swept you up as he spun you around laughing.

“You act like you haven’t seen me in months, Y/N-chan.” He squeezed you as he lowered you back down, studying you for just a moment before deeming you okay with a ruffle of your hair. You smiled up at him.

“Y/N, I’m offended I get no such greeting, we played so many shogi games.” Yuki remarked, his gruff voice not revealing the humor in his words. You chuckled and pushed his arm.

“Yeah, and you lost every single one. Gotten any better captain?” Your teasing looked like it was about to earn you another dip in the ocean, but luckily Kuramochi had come up to the group.

“Anyone up for some beach volleyball?!” He twirled the ball on his fingers and eyed everyone challengingly. You smacked the ball away and stuck your tongue out.

“Bring it, I’ll take any excuse to beat you idiots.”

As the rest agreed and the game was set up, you smiled once again, relief flooding through your body. Tense as it had been at practice the previous week, it finally seemed to be back to normal with you and your teammates. No one was concerned of your newly revealed skills, your threat as an ambidextrous player, all except… Sawamura.

You caught his eye briefly, only to watch him turn away from you, putting the net between you two for good measure. You sighed heavily. Even with so many things going right for you once again and no signs of the mysterious voice threatening to take you back, you still felt a pang of discomfort at the thought of losing the trust of the southpaw.

“Give it time.” Miyuki’s voice made you jump slightly, but he ignored it, stepping up beside you and shoving your shoulder over. “He’ll come around. He needs to figure some things out on his own, besides,” he gestured to the young pitcher, who was now accompanied by Chris, “I think someone will help lead him to the light.” Smirking at you, he pulled you away from your rooted spot to the court.

Your team consisted of Miyuki, Haruichi, and Furuya. The others had Jun, Yuki, Kuramochi, and Ryo. The numbers weren’t ideal, but both teams were determined to make it work and come out on top.

Spinning the ball in your hands a couple times, you tossed the ball up in the air and smacked your hand down on it. It went flying, with power and speed, right at Jun. He let out a war cry as he dove for it dramatically. And the game was off.

Both teams played well, spiking, diving, and setting enough to keep the game evenly matched. You had been best at receiving, your height putting you at a disadvantage when you were up at the front. Miyuki, being ever so sly, had picked up on this, allowing you to receive all balls aimed for him. This allowed him to get into place for spikes or sets. At one point, Jun took notice of this teamwork and spat.

“What is with this unbelievable battery? What have you been up to?”

You were completely oblivious to Jun’s insinuations, rolling your eyes and immediately getting your head back in the game. Miyuki, however, became visibly flustered, sending a death glare to his senior.

Furuya was your weakest point as a team, often mistiming his receives and sending the ball out of bounds or into the net. Haruichi, even though small, was serving service aces all around. The two teams battled on and on for dominance.

Yuki received Haruichi’s last spike, sending it with precision to Kuramochi for a set. Kuramochi’s set, though slightly low, was enough for Jun to come screaming in. You braced your stance, catching how Jun’s eyes subtly flicked to Miyuki as he jumped up to spike.

“SWITCH!” You yelled out, ordering Miyuki out of your way. His reaction time was just a second short, leaving him directly in your path for a receive. You pushed off the sand, twisting slightly in attempt to avoid the catcher and save the ball. Your knee protested, sending an electric zap through your entire body as you slid your arms out for the ball. It stung as it slammed into your forearms, launching into the air. “SLAM IT!” You screamed out, lying flat on your back as your knee continued to course a subtle pain through you.

Ryo set and, surprisingly, Furuya jumped up to spike. But you were unable to watch the final spike as a certain catcher blocked your view. Not one catcher actually, but two. Chris and Miyuki both crouched down by you, studying you.

“For f*cks sake Y/N, can you go one day without injuring yourself?” Miyuki growled out, placing a hand over your bent knee and you grinned.

“What do you mean? No injury here.” You pushed yourself up to sitting, the pain still present, but not crippling like the last time. You flexed and stretched your leg out, Miyuki’s hand still placed over it. “Satisfied?”

Chris spoke up, placing a hand on your shoulder and sighing. “No, not at all. I know you, Y/N, you would have jumped right back up after that save, in case they received the spike.” You had no retort, knowing he was exactly right. “If you keep hurting and pushing your body, you’ll end up like me.”

That sentence sent a shot through your heart and you bowed your head. Your senior would give anything for the chance to play with his team again, but his own determination had been his downfall… and you were following the same path, without regard for anything.

“I’m sorry Chris-senpai. I really did just twist wrong, if I had on my brace, I wouldn’t have even felt it.” The others had gathered around where the three of you sat, concern evident on their face.

“Is it your knee again, Y/N.”

“Are we going to have to wrap you in bubble wrap?”

“Seriously, what am I gonna do with you,” Ryo asked as he pulled you to your feet, careful not to aggravate any injury. You laughed as you cautiously put weight onto your leg. With no protest from it, you bounced from leg to leg and sent a thumbs up to the catchers.

“All good!” And, upon noticing the dark looks of both guys, you quickly added, “and I will ice tonight and take a pain medication just to be safe.” Before the other two could demand more discussion, Haruichi piped up.

“Where did Eijun-kun go?”

The group stopped, glancing around. Chris, who was the last person to be with Sawamura pointed towards the ocean.

“He told me he was going for a swim, to clear his head.” You followed the path of Chris’s finger, only to inhale sharply. The waves had increased in ferocity and, if you squinted, you made out the bobbing head of Sawamura in the distance. He was struggling against the waves, trying to swim directly to shore, unaware of the likelihood of being swept away. Your heart dropped and without a word, you took off at a sprint towards the ocean.

You ignored the calls of the team, aware of Kuramochi on your heels with Yuki and Miyuki not far behind him. They knew what was about to happen, yet the thought of you throwing yourself in the middle of it scared them as much.

“Y/N! Let me go, those waves are fierce,” you heard Kuramochi yell as you splashed into the water, feeling the tug of the waves on your legs.

“I’m the trained swimmer here, I’m the best shot.” You called back over the waves, going to dive, one eye still trained on the struggling pitcher. A hand shot out and grabbed you, pulling you back to face him. It was always him.

“Since when do pools have waves like this!? You’re the smallest here, and a complete idiot if you think I’m letting you go out there.” You didn’t pull away, merely intertwined your pinkie in his and shook it up and down.

“I’ll be back soon. Be ready for us.”

You pulled away from his grip and dived under the water, kicking your legs furiously. In Reality A, you had been a swimmer throughout middle school, until you and your mom had moved you to a high school with no team. It didn’t break your heart or anything, and now, you were grateful for the skills.

You broke the surface for air, finding Sawamura just a few feet from your reach. He was coughing as the waves overtook him once again, tiring and struggling just to stay above the water, allowing the waves to pull him as they wished. You called out to him, hoping your presence would both calm him and give him the strength to swim towards you. As he recognized your face, a giant wave crashed over you both.

Diving underneath before impact, you watched as Sawamura was pushed down, no longer fighting against the waves, limbs stilling in the water. Hurriedly, you closed the distance between you, grabbing the pitcher’s wrist and dragging him towards you. The effort alone was excruciating. Miyuki wasn’t wrong when he said you were the smallest on the team and, even though you were extremely muscular and well formed, the first year was dead weight over your shoulder.

Your head emerged from the ocean, Sawamura close behind. You coughed slightly before beginning to move forward.

“Y… Y/N?” Relief flooded through you as Sawamura’s hoarse voice graced your ears. You stole a glance back and squeezed the arm you were holding.

“It’s me, Eijun. Just keep talking, stay awake, I’ll get you back to shore.” You felt the slight struggle of Sawamura as he attempted to aid in carrying his own weight. You shook your head. “It’s easier if it’s just me, otherwise our timing is off. Just stay awake okay?”

Your voice remained calm and comforting, even though your body was screaming for you to panic, to cry, to survive. You had never felt such a pure fear, the most primal fear of death. Your lungs demanded more oxygen, while the waves tried to fill you with water. You fought the waves, the tiredness, the weight, keeping your eyes fixed on the shore.

Where your family was waiting.

Back on land, the team stood anxiously, searching the waters for a sight of you . They had not seen a glimpse of you since the last large weight had overtaken both of you. Miyuki stood the farthest out, his hands balled into fists. Why had he let you go again?

Just then, your head bobbed into view, about 20 feet from where he stood. Sawamura was slugged on your shoulder, clearly fighting to stay conscious. Your movements were slow, your face betraying just how exhausted you were. You lifted your head up slightly when you caught his eye, opening your mouth to call out.

Only then, another wave overtook you and, with your strength fully spent, you were powerless to avoid its impact as it crashed over you. Miyuki let out a yell, diving towards you both, the rest of the team following suit. Kuramochi, having just as much speed in the water as on land, dived under with Miyuki. You were slowly sinking, slow bubbles escaping your lips, eyes closed. Your hair snaked around you, your hand still attached to Sawamura, your determination to save him evident even in your state. Sawamura, somehow still conscious, was attempting to pull you towards the surface. It was clear, in his state, his efforts were futile. Kuramochi and Miyuki grabbed the two of you, pulling you both back to surface.

The team was there to meet you all, aiding in hauling the two of you onto the beach. As Sawamura was slammed onto his side, his eyes opened immediately hurling the water from his lungs. Coughing and sputtering, he collapsed into Kuramochi’s knees, exhaustion filling his body. And then his eyes fell on you.

“Y/N?”

Miyuki was desperately thumping you on your back, attempting to dislodge the water from your lungs. Your eyes were closed, head lulled to one side, chest still. Pulling you onto your back, Miyuki placed his head onto your chest and breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of your gentle heartbeat against his ear. He pulled open your mouth with his hand. Pinching your nose, Miyuki lowered himself down, meeting your lips, forcefully sending two breaths into your lungs.

And that was all you needed.

Gasping, you rolled to your side, hurling the water up from your lungs. You coughed and sputtered as the last bit of liquid left you, collapsing back in pure exhaustion. The rest of the team was whooping and hollering, ecstatic that their teammates were safe and unharmed. You lazily rolled your head to look at Sawamura, who had moved to your side. You smiled tiredly, poking his cheek, ignoring the despair in his expression.

“No pulling that sh*t again Sawamura, or I’ll have you running with ten tires.” Your voice was gruff and ragged, but he smiled at you, nonetheless. He bowed his head down to you.

“I’m so sorry senpai. After how I’ve treated you… you still came for me.” You slowly pushed yourself up, one hand on Miyuki for support. You softly punched Sawamura in the arm, to his surprise, and laughed.

“You’re my family Eijun. Of course, I did,” you gestured to the others, “we are your family,” you emphasized. He bowed his head yet again and you ruffled his hair. Turning to the rest of the group, you smiled. “I don’t know about you all, but I’ve had enough fun for one day. Let’s all head back to our homes.”

“Come on Sawamura, we can go back to the school together, I want to show you something.” Chris offered Sawamura a hand, who took one last glance at you before taking it.

Everyone else agreed, quickly dispersing to gather their things. Kuramochi was the last to leave, repeatedly reminding Miyuki to get you home safely. You stuck your tongue out at him as he disappeared before turning to the oddly silent catcher. You punched his arm just like you had with Sawamura and raised your eyebrows.

“Thanks for saving me… again. You really shouldn’t make a habit out of…”

He cut you off, enveloping you in his arms with a ferocity that rivaled the waves that had pulled you under. His grip was strong and fierce. And you found yourself immediately relaxing into it. He was radiating fear, relief, and conflict, you felt it so strongly as if it was your own. You hesitantly placed a hand on the back of his head and played with his hair gently.

“Hey there captain. I’m okay.” To drive your point home, you pulled away and grabbed his hand. You intertwined your pinkies and bobbed them up and down. “I promised, didn’t I? I won’t ever break that.” You smiled at him, genuinely confident in your words. Miyuki’s own seriousness broke slightly. Absentmindely, he brushed a stray pieced of hair behind your ears, his hand resting on your cheek for just a moment longer than was normal. It’s as if he was reassuring himself that you truly were here, right in front of him, unharmed. And before his own will could stop him, he leaned into you.

The kiss on your cheek was so soft and light that, if your eyes hadn’t witnessed it, you might have thought it was your imagination. His burnt sugar smell was now mixed with ocean air and summer sun, creating the most intoxicating and unique sent. As he pulled away, his typical grin once again graced his face. He took your still interlock pinkie and bobbed it one more time before releasing it.

“And I’ll hold you to that, Y/N.”

Chapter 11: Over the Line and Left Behind

Chapter Text

You let out a long breath as you squinted against the sun, eyeing Tanba as he stretched out his arm. Truthfully, you had been surprised when Coach had announced that the third years had requested their retirement game get moved up. You had questioned their urgency, to no avail, each one pushing your questions away with shrugs and hair ruffling. Still, something felt off. You had told Miyuki as much, who brushed off your worries.

“Come on, what do you think they are gonna tell us? What can be worse than getting our asses handed to us by our senpais?” Even with his joking manner, you knew better. You knew he was feeling immense pressure, nothing coming easily as captain. Baseball was easy for Miyuki, making plays, fixing in game problems, analyzing plays and players… it all made sense to him. People, however, and how they interacted based on what you said, how you said it… that confused him to no end. Too many nights had ended with him pounding on your door, throwing himself onto your bed and claiming he was the wrong choice. You would sit with him, strumming your guitar or picking at an assignment. It was no use to tell him that he was the only choice, the best choice, to lead the team. He would never listen to such obvious sense. So, instead, you sat and just let him vulnerably express every fear he had. You hoped that had been enough.

A whistle brought your attention back to the present, where Tanba was preparing to hurl a pitch your way. Gripping your bat, your gloves fighting the metal, you prepared to swing. Only, it wasn’t your pitch, and you knew it. You watched with ease as it flew past you, into the catcher’s mit and smirked at Kuramochi on first, who was whining terribly about wanting to run. Rolling your eyes, you focused back, tuning out everything except the pitcher in front of you.

Praying that your knowledge of Tanba wouldn’t fail you (he had always favored the inside pitch with you), you widened your stance and prepared to swing the bat. As the ball left his hands, you imagined the sound of the metal colliding with the small ball, smirking at the idea of it flying as high as it could. Seconds later, your imagination merged with reality as you made contact, sending the ball into the outfield. Not a home run, but it would do. It was the push they needed.

Because, as expected, the third years were thoroughly destroying you. As your foot landed on first, seconds before the former captain caught the ball, you let out a sigh. It was up to Miyuki now. You hated that it seemed it was always up to him. Part of him probably relished in the weight he carried for the team, but it was still weight. One that continued to grow heavier as the days went on.

He stepped up to bat and to the untrained eye, one would think he was his normal self, co*cky and confident. But you knew him. You knew the way he gripped his bat was tighter than usual, that his stance was a bit stiffer.

You also knew that it didn’t matter. Because Miyuki would always get the job done.

As if you had seen the future, the bat slammed into the ball with a fierceness only the third years could rival. Miyuki took off and so did you, racing your way to second, keenly aware of the calls from the third years. You were their target, they wanted you out.

There was no escaping the slide. You had begun to hate the sliding, fearing for your knee every time, fearing that just the right hit to the head could send you back to Reality A. It was your only option though, so with a growl and a silent prayer, you brought your body down, dirt and mud flying up around you.

You heard the smack of a ball contacting a mitt just as your foot touched the base. The call was made. You breathed a sigh of relief, accepting Ryo’s hand to help you up. Catching Miyuki’s eye, you shot him a wink and a thumbs up. He could use some positive energy right now. Ryo, watching you carefully, raised an eyebrow.

“So, when are you going to finally tell him you’re in love with him?” His tone was dry, as if he had asked what you had eaten for breakfast. You smacked his arm, hard and relished in his grimace. Your eyes remained on the upcoming batter as you spoke. Inside you were worried you had been too obvious about your feelings regarding Miyuki.

Or had Ryo figured it out before even you had? How many others had?

“Miyuki and I are just friends, teammates and co-captains. He’s all stressed out and if he needs someone, I’ll be there. Just like I am for all of you insufferable boys.” You pretended to not hear the “yeah right,” that Ryo breathed out as Tanba got the first strike. If only you could get to third, maybe even round out to home. It would be enough to boost their spirits.

“Team seems to be really struggling, what, we leave, and you all lose your touch?” You bristled at his bluntness. You expected it, but it still pissed you off a bit. You shot him a look, watching as Tanba threw a ball. You yelled out some encouragement, hoping it would reach the batter.

“Well we’ve got a pitcher with yips, a captain who doesn’t thinks he’s good enough and doesn’t know how to talk to people, third years moving up a retirement game, and…” you let out an audible sigh, the feeling of doom taking hold. Ryo placed a hand on your arm and squeezed gently.

“Hey, I was just messing around. You guys are doing well, especially the captains. Each team goes through the metamorphosis before they find their footing. You guys just have to find it faster than most with Coach...” The unfinished sentence caught your attention and, judging by Ryo’s face, he had said something he shouldn’t have. So, naturally you pressed him.

“What is that supposed to mean, Ryo?” Your eyes took him up and down as he suddenly became much more interested in the game in front of him. You dug your elbow into him. “Why do we get less time? What’s going on with Coach? And why do you know before I do?”

Ryo shifted uncomfortably. You guessed he was trying to decide if he should ignore you, until you were forced to run, or come clean. You glared at him, aware that the batter was either about to hit the next ball, or strike out.

“Ryo! Answer me!”

“Coach is quitting.”

The world stopped turning. Three words and it came to a screeching halt. Nothing made sense now. It all felt like pure doom, despair and destruction. It wasn’t a problem you could fix with a smile, sarcastic comment, and analytical thinking.

Because you all were being left behind, left to flounder… left to feel hopeless.

You didn’t notice the bat make contact with the ball. You didn’t see the players burst into motion, Kuramochi heading to home, Miyuki coming for your base. You stood, frozen, as the words continued to echo in your head.

“Y/N! Y/N, I’m sorry but you need to run!” Ryo shoved you forward, a last fail attempt to get you to run before the fuming Miyuki murdered you. Your body ran on autopilot, glancing to see the ball was far off, rounding third for home, praying you made it there in time. You didn’t hear cheers of encouragement, or the call of the umpire that you were the safe. You just walked off the field to the dugout, a smile placed on your face as the team congratulated you and Kuramochi for the double.

You didn’t even realize time had passed until Miyuki was dragging you out of the dugout, raising his voice like you had never heard before. When he was angry, he was usually firm and menacing… his silence causing more fear. But this, this was something you had never seen from him.

“The HELL was that Y/N!?” He pointed out to second base, his voice catching the attention of both teams, and Coach, who watched cautiously. You shot them both a glare, though you were sure only one noticed.

“I’m sorry! I got the run, just drop it Miyuki.” You kept your voice even and attempted to remove any anger from it. From his perspective, you had spaced out midgame, when you knew how much pressure he felt. He had every right to be pissed.

That didn’t mean he had to blow up at you in front of the world. You crossed your arms and turned to grab your glove. You’d shake this off, play your hardest, and break the news to the team tonight. Not now.

Miyuki, however, had no intention of dropping the subject like you had suggested. A hand on your elbow pulled you back to face him. The malice in his eyes actually caused you to flinch. He flickered for a moment when you did, maybe even regretted how he was handling you. But his hand didn’t release you. The next time he spoke, it was how Miyuki normally sounded when he was anger. And that didn’t make it any better.

“You’re a vice captain. You better start acting like it if you want to stay on first string. No more daydreaming in the field.”

You shook your arm free, blood pumping loudly in your ears as your heartrate increased with rage. You wanted to swing at him, you wanted to wipe the disappointment off his face. You didn’t deserve this. He didn’t get to see you at your most vulnerable, to tell you such sweet things when you were alone, and then rip you to shreds in public. You didn’t care how mad he was, how stressed he was.

The team had gathered around the two of you, Kuramochi even stepping forward to try and diffuse the attention. You barely noticed it. You were tired of this.

“Don’t you dare threaten my spot. I got the run! You don’t get to sit here and tear me apart, in front of everyone, for a mistake because you don’t know how to handle your own stress. I won’t play that game Miyuki. I’m not your scapegoat for emotions.”

He visibly bristled at that. Kuramochi stepped between you both, placing a hand on your shoulder. He was always the most levelheaded out of the three of you, Coach definitely knew what he was doing when he picked the three of you. The genius, the calm, and the calculating. However, it wasn’t you he should have intercepted.

“Says the one with a busted knee, who hides behind a smile when she’s still breaking inside.”

It was too far and he knew it. And frankly, had nothing to do with baseball. He just wanted to hurt you. Your face didn’t fall, tears didn’t spring to your eyes. You only saw red. Kuramochi gripped your shoulder, saying something about cooling off, focusing on the next inning. You only glared at Miyuki, who seemed to have lost all fire.

You couldn’t stay quiet anymore.

“Coach resigned Miyuki! Coach is quitting the team, Ryo just told me out there. So, SORRY I was a bit distracted out there.” You didn’t take pride in watching his face fall. Your heart actually hurt as you said it out loud. And it clenched tightly when you saw your team’s faces, mirroring Miyuki’s.

“What… what are you talking about?” Haruichi had stepped up, the rest of the team beginning to whisper around you. You shook your head, this wasn’t what they needed right now, what Miyuki needed right now.

But it’s not like he had considered you before he started this. Maybe it’s better this way.

“I… I don’t know anything more than that. The ball was hit as soon as he said it. I don’t think we are supposed to know. I’m not even sure they’re supposed to know.” You raised your eyes to meet Miyuki. His face had wiped itself of all emotion. He glanced at the third-year team, as if lost in a conversation that only he could hear. Taking a deep breath, he called the team to him.

The speech he gave made your heart swell with pride, despite your anger, more than you’d care to admit. You watched as he rose to the occasion, fully realizing what the title of captain meant. Here, he wasn’t trying to be Yuki, or Coach, or any other influential person that had inspired him in the past. Here he was Miyuki, captain of Seido, and he’d be damned if he let his team fall into shambles. In classic Miyuki style, he set their goal high, Nationals, no questions asked. The dark cloud that had settled over the team slowly rose, the sunshine breaking through and instilling hope. A hope only one person could have provided.

That day, as the Seido baseball team stepped onto the field, they had finally become what they most needed to be. They became a team. A team with their hearts set on Nationals. A team that would do anything to keep their Coach right where he needed to be. Coach belonged here.

The game ended in a terrible defeat, but Coach couldn’t hide the pride on his face. He saw how they began to play together, how each play connected to another, and each player became their own, no longer hiding behind the shadow of their predecessors.

You felt a similar pride but could not ignore the anger you had pushed aside for much longer. Knowing you shouldn’t be around people when it came to the surface, you cleaned up your portion of the field quickly, slung your bag over your shoulder, and headed to the showers in hopes of washing away all feelings bubbling inside you.

“Hey Y/N!” You turned to see Nori bounding up to you, carefully taking note that Miyuki was to your left, putting balls away. You smiled at Nori, trying your best to ignore the warm pools searching you.

“What’s up, Nori?” The pitcher usually went to the others for help, which you chalked up to being weirded out about going to a girl with their problems. Nori shifted uncomfortably and you figured he was pretty desperate to come to you. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

“I… I just wanted to say that… if you ever need someone to talk to… to be there…you have me.” He smiled shyly and you tried your best to smile back. You politely thanked him for his concern, shot Miyuki a death glare, and bounded off.

An hour later, you were lying in your bed, freshly showered, earbuds in and blasting. You had a playlist for every emotion and today was a “Dark and Twisty” kind of day. You stared up at the ceiling, letting the music wash over you just as the water from your shower had. Maybe the noise could drown out the nagging thought in your brain.

You like him. And he hurt you.

You shook your head furiously. No, it’s just because he made you seem like a weak, helpless little girl in front of your team. If Kuramochi had done it, he’d be getting the same treatment. You kept repeating this to yourself, even as another voice in your head fought back with a, but would it really hurt you this much if Mochi had done it?

You didn’t hear the knocking at your door, eyes closed as you tapped your foot absentmindedly to the beat. It was only when you felt a hand pluck your earbud out that you opened an eye. A certain, puppy dog eyed catcher was staring down at you, a bowl of food in one hand and your earbud in the other.

You paused your music and sat up, leaning your back up against the wall. Staring. It was the first time in a long time that you saw him become visibly uncomfortable in your presence. Things were usually so easy with him, so fluid and natural.

“Is there a reason you broke into my room or…?” You broke the silence with sass and a continued death glare, Miyuki making it clear he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation. He raised the bowl in response.

“Didn’t see you at lunch. Figured you might be a bit hungry?”

His voice was so soft, so remorseful, it almost had you wavering. Almost, but not quite. Unluckily for him, the memories of the dispute from earlier were on a constant loop in your head. You had half a mind to refuse his offering and tell him to leave, when your stomach let out a low growl. Miyuki raised an eyebrow and handed you the bowl.

As you said your thanks and began to eat, Miyuki pulled up your desk chair. He sat directly in front of you now, watching you carefully. He was smart to bring food, your hangry levels were slowly decreasing, leaving only the residual anger from the game.

“Y/N… how badly did I mess up this time?”

You paused, your chopsticks holding a delicious piece of stir fry by your lips. You gave him a pointed look.

“That’s really how you want to start this apology?”

Miyuki ran a hand down his face then through his hair. He always did that when he was anxious, you thought, remembering how many times he had done it during their after practice talks. You could practically hear his thoughts now, “sh*t captain, sh*t friend… what else are you gonna mess up Miyuki?”

And you so desperately wanted to reach out, to grasp his hand and tell him not to worry. That it was okay, just a heat of the moment argument that went too far. That you would have taken it there if he hadn’t. To comfort him, to bring him close, to feel him, touch him, to ki…

No. No, that’s not how this worked. He didn’t get a “get out of jail” card because you liked him. You valued yourself more than that. Because no matter how much you liked Miyuki, you knew you deserved better than what he had done today. A little voice in your head also reminded you, that this was very much a one-sided attraction.

“I screwed up again, Y/N. I lashed out. I targeted you because there was an opportunity and, if I’m being honest, because I figured it wouldn’t leave lasting damage given how close we are.”

You knew the admission was supposed to be helping his cause, but you felt familiar rage begin to course through your veins. You took another bite of chicken to push it back down. He was trying, at least let him try.

“And that was so ridiculous, rude and downright toxic of me. It honestly disgusts me just to admit it. That I used you like that, as my own personal punching bag, just to let off steam. You have every right to be mad at me. To never speak to me again. Just… just know I’m so sorry.” He locked eyes with you, searching for an emotion you had hidden so well.

“I never want to be the one to… hurt you.”

It was so soft you almost thought you heard him wrong. Miyuki didn’t like being vulnerable and you knew it. That was probably the most vulnerable thing you had heard out of his mouth, one with actual emotion behind it. It was enough to sway your anger, bringing you back to stable neutral. You set your bowl to the side and grasped the hand that was currently raking across his legs.

“Hey now, no need to take off your skin as punishment.” You studied his face for a minute. Maybe he had been doing worse than you had picked up on. The whites of his eyes were slightly reddened, bags and dark circles decorating underneath. He hadn’t been sleeping, possibly staring at a TV screen trying to assess the team and their next opponents if you had to wager a guess. You smiled warmly at him.

“You were an ass.” Miyuki nodded.

“You’re sorry for spreading my business so publicly?” Miyuki gripped your hand as you said it out loud but nodded anyways. You sighed and calmingly ran your thumb across his own.

“Hurting me is inevitable Miyuki, we are human. I’ll hurt you too, I probably already have.” He opened his mouth to argue, but you kept going.

“But this, coming here and owning up to it, means more to me than a promise of ‘never hurting me again’. Try your best not to, but don’t set expectations no one will ever meet.”

He nodded again, bowing his head down to wrest it on your intertwined hands. You knew there was more, there was something else spinning around in Miyuki’s mind, but you couldn’t figure out what it was. Only that it seemed to be tearing him apart.

Without a word, you pulled him to you, onto the bed, similar to how he had that night back at his house. You hugged him tight to your chest and pretended not to notice how his body slightly shook with each breath. You weren’t sure if he was crying but figured he didn’t want you to know the truth.

Instead of investigating, you began to run your hands through his freshly washed hair. You hadn’t noticed how soft it was before, it was always Miyuki who was touching yours, not the other way around. His body noticeably stilled as your hands raked through his hair, softly.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, not daring to glance up. He didn’t pull away from the touch either. Actually, he leaned into it.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week and my mom used to do this to help me fall asleep.”

Miyuki snorted at your bluntness, and you smiled down at him, humming softly as you continued your work. His body was beginning to relax. It was barely late afternoon, but if Miyuki could just relax, maybe get an hour or two of sleep, you knew he’d be in a better mindset for whatever was troubling him.

“Are we okay?”

You grinned at his question, touched he was checking in, rolling your eyes at the fact that he thought you’d do this if you weren’t okay with him. You gave his head a gentle smack, to which he didn’t even flinch.

“No, clearly I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” you deadpanned. Miyuki yawned and nodded against your chest, bringing an unknown blush to your cheeks.

“Figured. Just avoid the face, it’s one of my best features.” You laughed, rolling your eyes as Miyuki gripped you tighter in an effort to stop your movement. Your heart stuttered as he pushed the two of you closer.

The voice inside begged him to stop. To stop holding you, to stop comforting you, relying on you, smiling at you, joking with you.

Stop making me think there’s a chance.

You intertwined your pinkies and shook up and down, for good measure. Promising more than just to avoid beating up his face.

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

Stop giving me hope, Miyuki, that this can be reality.

Chapter 12: Obvious Now

Chapter Text

The cold rain was pouring down in buckets now and you shifted uneasily at the interruption. Mostly, the team seemed okay with it, everyone doing what they can to stay agile, to remain focused on the game. Sawamura, the newly rejuvenated pitcher, with no promise of setting foot on the mound, had refused to come in from the bullpen. But not everyone understood the effect this could have, even if this was the fall tournament.

Furuya sat in the dugout, eyes covered by his cap, waving off Miyuki’s warnings to stay game focused, to not relax. You felt a bubbling of annoyance as the young ace ignored his captain. Was the ace number getting to his head? You cared for Furuya and knew he was the best choice for ace… but he was just so young and naïve to his own weakness.

There was also the fact that Sawamura was quickly returning to the race, never admitting defeat, acting as if Furuya was just borrowing the ace number for safe keeping. Your eyes wandered to the bullpen, Sawamura pitching in his prime. You recalled his powerful pitching against the third years, the way he had pulled the team together with his loud words and pitching from the heart. You almost thought it would be a shame to waste such a good pitcher in the bullpen.

“Baseball for your thoughts?” Haruichi had appeared at your side, offering a baseball with a soft smile. You ruffled his hair before taking it, tossing it up and down. You found comfort in the ball, running your hands around the stitches.

“Just worried what this break is going to do to our players, our momentum.” You surveyed the players, stretching, practicing swings, drying their jerseys in an attempt to stave off the chill that the rain and wind were offering.

“Furuya isn’t listening to me or Miyuki. I think he knows the rain bothers him, so he sees this pause as a win, rather than a loss or inconvenience.” Haruichi leaned onto the fence, stretching his back out as he did. “I don’t know how I got stuck with the most stubborn, temperamental year ever known to baseball. An unbelievable pitcher who can’t pitch unless weather is peak condition? Seriously, where did we find these guys?”

You let out a giggle as you shoved Haruichi’s shoulder, reminding him how, though he was better than the other two, he had his fair share of stubborn moments. Faking hurt, he crossed his arms and tried his best to glare at you. But you could only smile and ruffle his hair again. He was such a good kid, one who looked out for his friends, even if they didn’t treat him how they should. He stood up for himself, his team, and took on any challenge. Not to mention his own special talents on the field. All the attention may be drawn to Eijun and Furuya, but Haruichi was the powerful shadow behind them, taking up more space than most would acknowledge. You looked out onto the field, a smile still gracing your face.

Sometimes you forgot this was a shifting experience. That these people were supposed to be fictional. 2D drawings on a screen that somehow evoked a stronger emotion in you than the real life ones that had surrounded you. You had always loved the pink haired character of Haruichi, wanted someone to acknowledge him openly, give him the credit he deserved. Proudly stand up and say…

“You’re incredible Haruichi, you know, that right? At baseball and just as a human. Those idiots are in good hands with you.”

His face immediately reddened, shyness returning at such outward and blunt praise. He put his hands out, desperately trying to push away the kindness you were showing him. With a soft smile, you pushed his hands away.

“Take the compliment love, I’m going to go check on the team.” You gestured to the outdoors. “The rain is slowly letting up, perhaps we’ll be able to play in the next half hour or so.”

“I’ll check on the two pitchers, you take care of the rest?” Haruichi responded, a smile gracing his still red face. You nodded at him, grateful for his presence. Surveying the dugout, you went to each player, assessing their uniforms, reminding them to stay warm, drawing their attention to the slowing rain. Each one nodded and did as they were told, stretching and switching undershirts.

Your own undershirt was soaked through, but for you, changing meant you had to head back to the locker room, and there was no time for that. You recalled the last time you had stripped down to your sports bra in front of the team. What’s the big deal, you had thought, when they were all without shirts? Coach had not shared your sentiments and you vaguely remember the third years swatting the heads of the younger ones who were caught staring. Had someone cat called? Didn’t Chris have to get held back from punching a second string that was helping with equipment. You shook your head, not wanting to relive the same thing today.

Your eyes fell on Kuramochi and Miyuki, heads bowed in discussion, most likely about the game. You figured they weren’t even aware of the slowing rain, the soon to be call to start the game. Miyuki’s undershirt was dry, most likely having changed it as soon as he got back. Kuramochi, however, still appeared to be wearing what he had been before. You walked up to them and gently kicked Kuramochi.

“What the hell you... Oh it’s you, Y/N.” Kuramochi dusted his pants off and stood to meet you, Miyuki following suit. You laughed, apparently only you were allowed to kick Kuramochi.

“Games going to start back up soon, start warming up your muscles and change your undershirts,” you rubbed Kuramochi’s between your fingers, “you’re soaked. Can’t have you getting sick or injured on us.” Kuramochi saluted and took off towards his bag, muttering about whipping his team into shape when he got back. A hand took your own undershirt and surveyed it. With an eyeroll, you turned to meet Miyuki’s eyes.

The two of you had fallen back into your comfortable friendship. There hadn’t been an intimate moment in the past few weeks since the night in your dorm. Your playful banter had returned, sarcastic insults and passive aggressive comments as well. You had reverted back to being sad alone, though you hadn’t been sad much. No, sadness was only hitting you when you remembered that he was Miyuki Kazuya, genius catcher of Seido, loved by all, with a fanclub of girls chasing after him… and you…

You weren’t on his radar. He had already admitted early on in all of this that he barely saw you as girl. If anything were different, you’d know. Otherwise, he’d come clean by now. Miyuki didn’t shy away from something he wanted. He took on challenges head on. He… he would have done something by now.

And could this even be possible? They were on the same team, had already gotten talked to Coach about hanging out in your room (which is a total double standard, mind you, but that’s beside the point), and who knows what it would do to the dynamic of the team. Would it effect playing, managing and captaining the team? Would relationship arguments leak into playing? And what about that night in house, the voices in your head? Would you inevitably be thrust back to your original reality? So lost in thought, you didn’t even notice Miyuki was talking until he snapped his fingers in front of you. Your eyes refocused on him, noting that one eye was squinting, and a bit redder than the other. You co*cked your head.

“Miyuki, what’s wrong with your eye?” He gave you a confused look, before shaking his head.

“Don’t try and get out of the fact that you’re soaked and need to change!” He opened his mouth to continue but you ignored him, taking a step closer and grabbing his head.

“Y/N! Stop, let go,” he called out exasperatedly, grabbing at your hands that were firmly dug into his head. You pulled him towards you, spreading his eyelids open to get a better look. He continuedly attempted to push back, sputtering at your blunt advances, but you ignored him, squinting at the subtle ring of a contact around his eye.

“Miyuki, your contact is irritated, why the hell is it still in your eye!?” He jerked his head back.

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t have the solution with me or sports glasses, so unless you want a blind catcher…” You rolled your eyes at his sass. You pulled him by the wrist to the bench, grabbing your sports bag in the process. Digging for a moment, you pulled out a case and handed it to him. Confused, he unzipped and pulled out the contact solution and eyedrops. He raised an eyebrow.

“Mind telling me why you carry this around?”
You rolled your eyes again and widened your eyes, gesturing for Miyuki to look closer.

“I wear contacts. How unobservant are you? I know I don’t let people see me with glasses most of the time, but goodness, you’ve for sure seen me with them before.” Rubbing a disinfectant wipe along his hands, then handing him a towel to dry them, you pointed at his reddening eye. “Now, take care of that before I do it myself.” A flash of fear went across his face, most likely at the thought of you reaching into his eye.

The whole process took barely two minutes, enough time to get the call from the umpire that the game would resume in fifteen minutes. You began to call for your team, sending them to stretch, catch and swing, anything to get them warm and pumped up. Grabbing your phone and a plastic cup from the water jug, you put on your workout playlist, allowing it to echo out across the area. As it blasted, you noticed a visible change in the mood around you, players began to get louder, brighter and amped again. A few began to bounce to the beat, you included. Even the sun was breaking through the storm clouds. The pause may become a reset, but that doesn’t mean it has to be a bad one.

“You always know what everyone needs.” Miyuki appeared at your side, brown eye visibly better. You hoped that when your eyes lingered on his for a bit longer than normal, that it could be explained away by your concern for him. He handed you back the case, hand brushing yours for just a moment. A moment that made your heart jump involuntarily. How annoying, no matter how much you told yourself this crush was fading, he always found a way to remind you, it most certainly had not.

You smiled at the praise anyways, tossing your case into your bag, before bending down to stretch to the ground, the familiar pull of muscles awakening your own drive to play. When you came up, Miyuki still stood next to you.

“So why aren’t you changing when you made everyone else?” He poked your still damp undershirt. You gave Miyuki a glance before you started to stretch your arms, swaying slightly to the intense beat blasting from your phone. Coach glanced towards your phone, visibly annoyed by the echoing hip hop in the dugout. But he knew that what you were doing, as annoying it may be to him, was working.

“I’d have to run back to the locker room to do that, you know that. I’d get soaked on my way back too. It doesn’t make sense and now there’s no time. I’ll be alright, it’s really a precaution, I’ve kept my muscles warm. Unlike some people.” You glanced nervously at Furuya, who appeared aloof and dazed. You bit your lip, wondering what you could do in this moment to change that.

“I’ll cover you, if you’d like to change. You know, a trade for the contact fix.”

You glanced at Miyuki and smirked, pulling a new blue undershirt from your bag. Narrowing your eyes, you studied his face, watching him become slightly uncomfortable under your gaze.

“Not trying to sneak a peek at me are you, Miyuki?” You emphasized each syllable of his name, biting your tongue to keep yourself from laughing. Miyuki co*cked his head, a reaction you weren’t expecting. This was the moment he was supposed to blush and stutter. Instead, he took a step closer.

“Why, something you want me to see?”

His voice, barely a whisper, was dripping in a tone you had never heard. A tone that made the air leave your lungs completely. You glared at him and quickly turned around, facing the back corner of the dugout. You really thought you had the upper hand on him. Your backs brushed as he stood up against you. He wasn’t much larger than you, but certainly taller. The dugout had cleared out substantially, so hopefully you wouldn’t draw any attention. As you stripped down, you spoke in a hushed tone.

“Ready to kick Teito’s ass?” Miyuki snorted at your bluntness and you laughed at his reaction, discarding the soaked undershirt and picking up your fresh one. Your arms prickled with goosebumps in the after-rain air. Your sports bra was a bit damp as well, though not nearly anything like your undershirt.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Furuya isn’t in the right headspace now, just make sure…” Miyuki stopped you with a gentle shove back, causing you to grab his wrist to keep from falling. He almost turned at the touch, then quickly remembered the implications that would have on his boxed away feelings.

You quickly pulled the shirt over your head and tapped his shoulder, signaling he was alright to turn around. His face was focused again, the catcher that controlled the game. You didn’t have to say anything to him, tell him anything, he was doing what he did best.

“I got my pitchers. Worry about the field. Divide and conquer, just like we’ve always done.”

You smiled and squeezed his shoulder, “Doesn’t seem like a fair trade in terms of numbers but…” you winked, “I get you couldn’t handle it.” You left the dugout, ignoring his arguments and hit your mit.

Game time, take 2.

You were first up to bat, taking a few practice swings before stepping into the box. You breathed out, pushing the sounds and distractions from your mind. The world seemed to shrink down to the field. You stood alone, staring the sidearm softpaw down, stance strong and prepared. You tried to ignore the burden of starting the game, of gaining momentum. This was the fall tournament, and one wrong move could end it all.

The first pitch was fierce, whizzing inches past your belt. If the ball had teeth, you were sure you’d be bleeding. You glared at the pitcher and tried to read him for ill intent. However, when your eyes met, he winked at you. You raised an eyebrow at the gesture, unsure of his intentions.

Wait, get your head in the game!

The thought hit you just in time, as a ball came whirling in, appearing slower than the last. You didn’t trust your eyes, knowing the tricks. You took in a deep breath, an idea forming your head as the ball inched closer.

You swung, slowing the velocity without reducing the power behind it. You weren’t sure how to do it, or if it would even work, but you just needed to try something. You couldn’t let this pitcher win, you couldn’t be the reason the momentum was halted. You needed to prove to the team that they were here to win. You needed to prove yourself.

You just had to get the ball in the air.

The metal bat vibrated throughout your hands as it made singing contact with the ball. You hardly believed your eyes as it soared over the pitcher and infielders, heading straight to an unmanned point in the outfield.

There was no world around you as you ran. The crowd, the teams, Coach, Miyuki, all of it disappeared as you sped past first. You knew it was dumb to try it, to try to make it to second when the ball was already heading that way, but you needed to pull off the impossible. For your team.

The sounds of the people around you came crashing back as you neared the base, keenly aware of the outfielder who called for second. He had quite the arm on him, you recalled, as you braced yourself for the impact of a slide.

It was now or never.

Dirt and mud covered you as you slide onto base, ball slamming into the baseman’s mit at almost an identical speed. Your arm scraped slightly against the coarse sand as you slid, your hand gripping the base with intensity, praying that you’d be made safe.

It seemed the whole stadium held their breath, waiting for the call. You didn’t even move from your slide, just closed your eyes tight in hopes that you’d hear the words ring out across the stadium.

“SAFE!”

You couldn’t contain your smile, hopping up and smirking at the second baseman, who looked ready to murder. You stretched out your legs and readied yourself for the Miyuki’s turn to bat.

It was only when you noticed the Teito pitcher turned to you did your smile fall slightly. He appeared to be trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t make it out. With a flick of his hand, as if he was waving off the failed communication, he just smiled at you and turned back around.

You watched from second as Miyuki stepped up to bat. It was the bottom of the fifth and, again, the momentum of the game was falling on your captain’s shoulders. And he delivered, like he always did, sending the ball off into the outfield. Your muscles were awakened as you ran, the air fresh from the rain. Your foot easily tapped third before the ball even arrived in the infield. Miyuki was also safe on first, turning to you and raising his fist in triumph. You returned the gesture, jumping slightly with excitement. I told you to leave it to me, he seemed to say as you both let the cheers from the crowd wash over you. You both turned to the next batter.

It was always hard to read Furuya. His face never gave an emotion away, even as he stepped up to bat. And even so, your stomach began to sink as he readied his stance. He didn’t look at Coach, didn’t give it a second thought. He stared straight at the pitcher, hands gripped too tightly on the bat. You wanted to scream, to rip the bat from his hands and bench him. You had warned him, you all had warned him.

Your anger came to a point with the popping of the ball off the bat. You could practically feel the fury radiating off of Coach and the captain from here as Furuya got the first out. Your own was building, but you refused to unleash. You would not become the firecracker on the team, you had enough of them, anymore and the team would very well explode. Instead, you yelled out to the batters on deck, encouraging everyone to keep the momentum going. You were in prime scoring position, Miyuki not far behind, you both just needed on solid hit.

“I’m not looking for a miracle, just a solid hit!”

Your words were hopeful and spirited but had no effect on the fate of your team. Teito held Seido to no runs and now, in the sixth inning, things were only getting worse. Furuya was throwing wide, walking batters and quickly losing his cool. You could only watch helplessly from first base as Furuya attempted to find a fire that the rain had drenched.

The batter that Furuya walked, the southpaw pitcher, was currently on first, though to be honest you almost had forgotten he was there, too busy fretting over your team. It wasn’t until he tapped your shoulder that you turned around, annoyance written across your face. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Nice batting out there, I’ve never seen someone use such an interesting technique and be successful.”

You raised an eyebrow at the praise, noting how the phrase “for a girl” was missing from the sentence. That was almost unheard of for you. Curious of his intentions, but much more concerned for your team and the game, you shrugged your shoulders and turned back to the action.

The ball continued to sing against the metal of the bat as Furuya continued to give up runs. In this moment, you had half a mind to pull the pitcher off the mound and finish the game yourself. Just as Miyuki called a battery timeout and you took a step towards the mound in an effort to get a full timeout, you heard a call from the dugout.

And Sawamura was walking out.

This was happening, this was going to be Sawamura’s big recovery, you could feel it in your bones. As he walked out, calling out his ridiculousness as always, your heart swelled with pride and hope. You glanced at Haruichi, who couldn’t even try to hide his grin. His friend had returned, the fearless pitcher. This was the Sawamura you remember from tryouts, boldly claiming he would be the ace.

In this moment, maybe you should have been feeling fear, concern for Sawamura. One wrong move and he could be thrust back into his depression, his yips choking the life out of him… ending his career before it even started. But somehow, you could only smile as Miyuki called for the first pitch. A pitch that shot goosebumps down your arm, a chill overtaking your entire body.

Who was this southpaw pitcher in front of you?

It was clear to see Sawamura had transformed. It was possible that he’d look back on his time with the yips and be glad it happened. While he was still the bullheaded pitcher you had all come to love, he had a new… veteran like sense to him.

Because failure was one of the best ways to ensure success. And Sawamura had experienced nothing but failure since coming to Seido. As he stood on the mound, his presence seemed to say, “here I am, watch me soar.”

Sawamura soared higher than anyone that day. Even when his pitches failed, even when a batter got on base, he was able to acknowledge that he had a lot to learn, relied on his team, and never lost his spirit. With Nori finishing out the game, his own fire awakened with his team and Miyuki’s encouragement, Seido secured the win, 3-2.

You were elated as you walked to the bus, ruffling Sawamura’s hair, one arm slung around Haruichi’s shoulder. You had volunteered to go find the two first years, lost somewhere around the locker rooms. You laughed as Sawamura boldly began to challenge you to a video game that Kuramochi had recently obtained. It was only when a hand jostled your shoulder that you were pulled from your entertainment.

The three of you turned to find a group of three guys, college age at best. The one in front, the tallest and most muscular, took a step towards you.

“You’re Seido’s token female?”

You raised your eyebrows, unimpressed both with the question and the lack of creativity in name calling. You felt Haruichi grow tense at your side. Sawamura was visibly bristling, you were actually surprised his mouth still remained closed. You put on your most venomous smile.

“I’m the first baseman on Seido’s team, yeah. Can I help you with something, sir?”

Your voice was polite, but if looks could kill, the three would be instantly struck dead. Haruichi had a hand on your wrist, squeezing gently as your pulse rammed painfully against his palm. It wasn’t fear, it was pure anger.

The short, broad friend behind the tall one stepped forward. Sawamura shuffled closer to you, both first years overcome with a protective nature you had never sensed around them. You, being as bold and stubborn as you were, brushed both off, standing your ground against the looming group.

“Just wondering how you managed to get a place on the legendary team?” He looked you up and down while the other two snickered at something between them.

You had pretended not to notice today that the stage of the fall tournament seemed to come with a bit more sexism. The cat calls from the crowd while you were up to bat, the certain remarks called from the opposing coach as the pitcher faced off with you. You even had tuned out the words from the crowd, never letting them sting you, rolling off your skin like rain droplets.

But this was the first time someone had approached you so plainly, out in the open for all to see.

And people were starting to take notice. Passersby’s had begun to pause as they walked by, whispering to whoever they were with. You could guess what they may be saying. You proudly wore your Seido jersey, the navy blue 3 shining proudly on your back. You decided, given the increase in attention, it would be best to just end this before anything began.

“My batting average speaks for itself; I’d say. I’d challenge you on the field but,” you looked him up and down, as if studying him, taking in how their faces began to anger, “doesn’t seem like that’ll be in the cards for you.” You smirked smugly, enjoying how riled they became, all three stepping closer, one being bold enough to place a hand on your cheek. He caressed you, before gently tucking a stray hair behind your ear, his eyes full of condescending thoughts. Your body froze, even if you didn’t it want to. Your body sensed danger and didn’t like its chances in fighting back.

“Sweetheart watch your mouth around the men… they can break you just as well as they made you. Your face is too pretty for baseball.”

Coming to your senses before the boys got involved, you slapped his hand away, relishing in the stinging sound that came from it. You hoped it hurt. You didn’t back away, Haruichi and Sawamura stepping forward, Sawamura yelling about respect. You chose to remain silent, sending a glare at the three, refusing to walk away first.

“What’s going on here?”

All turned to face Miyuki, who had adopted his serious captain face, though he was unsure who he should be glaring at. It was clear he had only just arrived, probably sent to recover the stragglers who were holding up departure.

“Captain! These guys were---” Sawamura began before you rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. You smoothed out your ponytail and adjusted your cap, not allowing your face to reveal your emotions.

“We were just leaving Miyuki-senpai. Let’s go, Sawamura-kun, Haruichi-kun.” Without another glance towards the others, who were slowly disappearing into the shadows, you headed towards the bus.

Miyuki watched your figure disappear, the honorific still ringing in his ears, like a warning siren. And then he grabbed Haruichi and Sawamura in front of him, turning them to him.

“What the hell just happened?”

Your head was resting on the cool bus window. You had quickly found solace in the very back of the bus, where no one would disturb you. Having been known for sleeping after a game, you knew you’d be safe. You were kicking yourself for having forgotten your headphones though. Your mind was wandering, not landing on anything in particular. You weren’t fuming from the encounter, residing to be numb when in the presence of your team. You didn’t even notice Miyuki sliding into the open seat next to you, your thoughts to chaotic and unorganized. Until, however, your shoulder was tapped multiple times, with urgency. You sighed.

“Which one told you?” You asked, face remaining solemn as you studied Miyuki. The vein in his neck was bulging, like it always did when he was angry. It was clear he knew of the events that had transpired. He was trying his best to remain calm though, flexing and relaxing his fingers in and out of fists.

“They both did, Haruichi more for me to check on you and Sawamura because he wanted permission to beat them up.” You laughed at that, knowing Sawamura stood no chance, was a bit squishy, and had no fighting experience.

“No need for that, just a onetime thing.” Your gaze returned to the window, Miyuki’s eyes continuing to search you for more… more of what you weren’t sure. Emotion, perhaps? Something he could fix, make better?

“Y/N… he touched you.” Your jaw tightened as you remembered the feeling of it, the touch, something you had often craved from one, became vile with another. Miyuki’s voice was a mix of pain and fury, as if he couldn’t believe someone would be so blatantly disrespectful to you. There was something else in his voice though.

“Miyuki, do you feel responsible for this?” Your eyes were full of confusion as he ran his fingers through his hair. His body language confirmed the guilt that was coursing through him. You squeezed his shoulder. “I protected myself Miyuki, and I’m safe and unharmed. Sawamura and Haruichi were there as well. It’s… it’s over and it’s no one here’s fault.”

Miyuki let out a noise of frustration. “Y/N would you stop pretending this is normal? That this is okay? Talk to me.” You turned slowly, not angering at his naïve words.

“Miyuki, this is my normal. The catcalls, the comments, the trash talk… the sexism. It’s the life I chose when I decided to go out for a men’s baseball team. Sure, they’ve never approached me, but it was bound to happen eventually.” You shrugged your shoulders, as Miyuki’s face fell. You waved him off. “You all don’t hear it or choose to ignore it because it’s game time. And so do I.” Your heart pulled in your chest as his face continued to crumble. Maybe you had been too blunt, too matter of fact for him. It took him a few moments to acknowledge you again.

He offered you a black earbud, presumably his own. You smiled, raising an eyebrow at the gesture.

“And what would this be for Captain?” He leaned in slightly, the scent of burnt sugar fully enveloping you, reminding you of how intoxicating the catcher known as Miyuki Kazuya could be.

“Helps drown out the noise that’s up there,” he gently poked your forehead, smirking knowingly, “and when you’re ready to talk to me, I’ll be here.” He leaned back in the seat, your smile soft as you followed suit. Surprise consumed you as Miyuki tugged your head onto his shoulder, but you didn’t protest. Instead, you sunk in, your head fitting almost perfectly in the spot, as if it was made for you.

He was safety. He was comfort and warmth. Miyuki was adventure and challenge, something new every day. He was strong, enough so that your own strength never threatened him. He never had wavered at the idea of you on the team, never dismissed your skills. He helped you thrive, in life and in baseball. He complimented you on and off the field, and you him. In that moment, it was all so… obvious.

Miyuki was home. And as you lay there, you had the sneaking suspicion that this wasn’t going away. That you wouldn’t be able to continue loving him from a distance.

Miyuki chose a playlist, knowing both of you had a similar taste in music. As “Modern Loneliness” began to fill both of your ears, Miyuki rested his head onto your silky hair and pretended not to notice the slow falling droplets that were finding a home on his shoulder. He didn’t even hesitate to intertwine your fingers with his, squeezing them.

But that didn’t stop him from repeating a phrase in his head, over and over.

“She’s just my friend.”

Chapter 13: Crossing That Line

Chapter Text

It had been two days since the incident and, though you hadn’t forgotten it, you had made your peace with it. Miyuki, however, had still been seething when the bus parked in front of the dorms. He was insistent on telling Coach, which you refused on numerous occasions. There just wasn’t any need for such a fuss, you’d handle it, just like you always did. Miyuki hadn’t taken kindly to this and had been avoiding you ever since.

You had just finished field practice and were in desperate need of a shower. Your focus on cleanliness quickly switched when you spotted two teammates in a secluded corner. It was Miyuki who was in, what seemed to be, a deep discussion with Nabe. Curious, you changed your course, heading for the two boys instead.

“Is it really right for me to be on a team, when I just don’t care as much as all of you?” You slowed in your steps, still unnoticed by the boys. Nabe had always been a smart player, but his intelligence had never been enough to get him on the first string. Having always been a player on second or first string, you weren’t able to easily relate to his struggles. But his words, they still cut you deeper than you expected.

“If you’re asking me for the answers, you’re not going to get them. This is a choice you have to make.” Miyuki’s voice wasn’t venomous or harsh, but his words were firm, leaving no room for argument. He wasn’t going to make a choice for anyone. He wanted dedicated members and if that wasn’t what Nabe wanted to be, then he shouldn’t feel pressured to stay somewhere he’d never truly succeed. Deciding to make your presence known, you cleared your throat.

“Everything alright boys?” you asked, glancing between the two of them with your signature eyebrow raise. They weren’t sure how long you had been there, and you weren’t about to admit to eavesdropping. Instead, you watched them both for a reaction, an admission.

Miyuki stared at Nabe for just a moment longer before nodding towards him and setting off in your direction. He touched the small of your back ever so lightly, guiding you away from the scene. You ignored the intimacy of the touch, trying your best not to lean into it.

“Are you going to tell me what happened or keep ushering me off to random places?” you remarked after a moment of silence, your mind flickering to the time he brought you out to pitch. You felt his hand drop from your back and he stopped moving. You slowed your steps, turning to face him. His face surprised you. His jaw was clenched and his hands in fists.

“I blame you for this.”

It’s like the air was sucked from your lungs by his words alone. You didn’t even attempt to hide the shock on your face. You took one step back and furrowed your eyebrows, looking around as if Kuramochi would pop out laughing. Because he had to be kidding right.

“I’m sorry, blame me for what exactly?” Your voice was even, but anger was already bubbling inside your chest. This declaration had come out of nowhere with no warning or catalyst.

“If you weren’t in my head so f*cking much maybe I would have noticed how Nabe, and the others were feeling BEFORE it blew up in my face. Maybe if I wasn’t worrying about your wellbeing every single second I’m near you, I’d be a decent captain! Maybe if I didn’t think about you every waking moment, I would be what they needed!” He was coming towards you, each step causing you to take one more back. Your best friend was blaming you for… being around?

“Hey, I get your stressed, but don’t you dare blame me for this! Nabe didn’t…” you trailed off, head snapping up to look at Miyuki again. You replayed his words in your head, confirming that he really just said what he did.

Miyuki took another step closer, anger still pulsing behind his eyes. You felt your back touch the wall, but you didn’t shrink away from his closeness.

“It’s not my fault and you know it Miyuki,” you stated quietly, eyes raking over his face. Did he realize what he had just said? “You’re a good captain, but you can’t notice everything, not with a team this big. Nabe came to you, and you told him your honest thoughts. That’s what you’re supposed to do.”

His hand slammed by your head, and you never realized how much he towered over you until that moment. You tilted your head up at him, keeping his eyes on yours. You didn’t flinch at the action, even angry, he’d never hurt you.

“I didn’t notice because I was too busy… thinking about you.” The last words sounded like they almost hurt him to say. “Your voice keeps playing inside my head. Like my favorite song that I can’t get out, it just keeps repeating.”

“Miyuki… I…”

“I look for you everywhere. On the field when I need to recenter myself, off the field when I have to play the role of captain, it’s always you.” Miyuki was talking faster now, his face now inches from yours, you couldn’t see anything but him. His arm kept you boxed in, there was no escape from him or the racing of your heart in your chest.

“And I keep telling myself that you’re just my best friend, but if we’re just friends how come it never feels like it? I shouldn’t always be wondering what would happen if we just,” his eyes finally softened, searching your own, “crossed the line.” Your head gently rested on the wall behind you. You swallowed deeply and breathed out. You were frozen under his gaze.

“Just tell me it makes no sense, that it’s never crossed your mind. That I’m just your best friend. Tell me and I’ll walk away.” He leaned even closed and breathed out. His hand brushed a stray whisp of hair from your eye and tucked it behind your ear. It lingered there, resting on your cheek.

“Tell me, Y/N.”

“I can’t.” Your voice was soft and steady. Miyuki’s eyes widened, confusion and hope mixing around behind the brown pools. In that moment, you dared to smile. What the hell, right? “I can’t because lately all I can think about is how your sh*t-eating grin makes my heart skip a beat. And how only you can make the judgmental voices in my head quiet down.” You nervously toyed with your shirt. “But I could never tell you that because you’re Miyuki Kazuya and I’m me… and yet I can’t help but wonder what would happen if we crossed that line.”

And then he was kissing you.

He was quick to reach you, pressing his lips hungrily against your own, as if it had taken all he had to hold back until now. His lips were soft, capturing yours with precision. His hand remained on your cheek, while the other dropped to your hip. He pressed you into the wall, as you both explored the lips of the other. Your hand found home on his chest, feeling the thump of his heartbeat against your palm. You leaned into him, and he moved to cradle the back of your head, desperate to get even closer to you. When he finally released you, he rested his forehead on yours. Your eyes fluttered open and found him. He was grinning down at you and you returned with a soft smile of your own.

“Hey,” you breathed, drinking in his intoxicating scent.

“Hey yourself,” he chuckled out, tracing a finger across your lips. You moved with it, eyes never leaving his. You were afraid if you blinked, you’d wake up, leaving this to be a dream. You snaked your hands around his neck and pulled him back to your lips. They were softer kisses and he smiled between them. When his kiss fell from your lips to your neck, you breathed in deeply, shifting your hips slightly towards him. He trailed back up to your jaw, then placed a kiss on your ear. “So, I’d say we crossed that line, love.” You giggled, ignoring the goosebumps that rippled across your skin by having him so close.

“Quite successfully.”

He took your hand in his and guided you away from the wall. He started towards the dorms, and you squeezed his hand.

“Where do you think you’re going Miyuki?” Your voice had a hint of excitement, as he continued to lead you up the stairs to your vacant dorm room. He lay a hungry kiss against you outside the door. But he pulled away too soon and you found yourself leaning towards him for more.

****** A/N: Turn back now if you'd rather not read what happens between them... the next chapter can be read without reading this bit, but I couldn't help myself*****

“No one gets to see me kiss you like that.”

The door had barely shut before Miyuki had you pressed against it, his hand was cupping your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone with a softness you had never felt. Your heart skipped a bit when you dared to look into his deep brown eyes. His gaze was full of intensity, enough to swallow you up. Your heart rate was quickening, and you knew, as his fingers moved to rest upon it, that he noticed. His subtle smirk overtook his lips as he leaned in closer. Your hand twitched as you considered touching him, any part of him. Yet you couldn’t move. It had always been Miyuki, it would always be Miyuki, forever. You knew this and still, you hesitated. Because your mind wouldn’t stop laying out every way this could go wrong, every way you could hurt him, he could hurt you.

He pulled you from your thoughts as he pressed a ghost of a kiss on your cheek before moving his head slightly to your ear. His breath sent goosebumps down your neck as he whispered a simple question, your head involuntarily leaning into his lips.

“Do I make you nervous, Y/N?”

Normally, this would be where you pushed him away, with a scoff of “yeah sure Miyuki-senpai.” Here and now, however, you couldn’t. Every time you pushed him away, he came back, sure, but you didn’t want to stop. You didn’t want to let him go, in fact you wanted him closer. For once in your life, you wanted to give in and do the one thing you had always wanted to do since you met him.

Letting out a slow breath, you raised your hand to Miyuki’s own neck. You traced his Adam’s Apple, before placing your fingers on his own pulse. You tapped it once before mimicking his movements, leaning into his ear, nibbling at the lobe slightly before breathing out softly.

“I’m not the only one, am I?”

You didn’t have time to enjoy his flustered reaction as he pushed you down to the floor, one hand intertwined in your own, the other still gently holding your face. He easily straddled you and you couldn’t help but flush at the sight. Miyuki, standing over you, chest rising and falling, eyes hungry for you, the girl beneath him. He leaned down to your neck, kissing his way up to your jawline, then making his way to your lips.

The kiss was deep, breathtakingly so. The air had left your lungs and somehow you didn’t mind, leaning into him. You allowed him to lift your head gingerly, begging for deeper contact with you. Each kiss was more passionate than the previous, and you found yourself letting your free hand explore the catcher’s neck, well-muscled chest and abs. Somehow, even as he desperately kissed you, you couldn’t convince yourself that it was all real. That he, truly, wanted you.

You began to trail down his sharp jawline before finding his pulse once again, this time with your lips. Miyuki’s breath stuttered and his hand that had moved into your hair tightened. You smirked against his skin, not only accepting that it was you who he wanted, but also delighted that only you could make him sound like that.

“Careful there,” Miyuki warned, sounding the slightest out of breath. You kissed his neck once more before pulling away to face him. He towered over you, but he appeared more disheveled than before. You slipped your fingers underneath his shirt and traced his abs playfully.

“What if I don’t want to be careful anymore, Miyuki?” You relished at the change in his face. Shock, at first, to ever hear those words leave your lips. It changed quickly, however, to pure euphoria that you were willing to let him see you in the most intimate way. To further prove your point, you slowly pulled his shirt up until he raised his arms to allow you to remove it entirely.

He leaned down slowly, as your hands explored his chiseled chest. You had seen him shirtless, hell you’d seen the whole team shirtless. But this, this was so different. Here you could stare because this was for your eyes only. He pressed the softest of kisses to your lips before placing an identical one on your forehead. His lips brushed your skin as he spoke.

“Are you sure you want this? Is it too fast?” You heart warmed at his decency. He was so different from the typical, so genuine and kind. You nodded softly and went to return to the kiss. He pushed you back softly with his hand, locking eyes with you. “I need to hear you say it, Y/N.”

It wasn’t an order or a desire to hear you admit it. No, as you stared into Miyuki’s deep brown orbs, you knew that Miyuki desperately wanted to protect you, to take care of you. He didn’t dare do a thing that may hurt you. He needed your guarantee that this was okay. And that brought the most genuine smile to your face.

“I want you, Miyuki. I want you, tonight, tomorrow, as long as you’ll have me. You know me better than anyone, it could never be too fast. You’re my best friend.”

Now it was his turn to smile at you. Another quick kiss was placed on your forehead before he returned to your lips. The flame had been rekindled and nothing was going to put it out. He kissed you as if the very act was the only thing keeping him alive.

“For the love of God, call me Kazuya.”

Frustrated by the fabric in his way, he quickly lifted it above your head, tossing it to the side as if it was on fire. You giggled as you leaned back down, watching as his eyes raked over you, full of lust and love.

“Gorgeous. You’re so f*cking gorgeous.”

It was as if any insecurity you may have had about your body melted away. Because here, in this moment, you were the most beautiful woman to Miyuki. His hands found your breasts, still tucked away in their black lace. He wasted no time slipping under the fabric, eyes watching your every move, every instinctual reaction to his touch. He took your nipple in his fingers and gently squeezed. You bit your lip in return. He wanted to see more of that. He wanted more.

Miyuki arms wrapped around the small of your back and thrust you back up and onto his lap. His hands then quickly unhooked your bra with ease and tossed it away. You were now feeling how hard he was underneath you and found yourself moving your hips against him. He groaned into your ear and quickly kissed down to your breast, allowing his tongue to swivel around the most sensitive pieces. His actions only egged you on, your hips now swaying in perfect rhythm against him. He was beginning to pant at your movements, his hot breath further stimulating your sensitive nipples.

And then he nipped them.

Your movements stuttered and you involuntarily pulled Miyuki closer to you with a groan, bringing his lips back to your breasts as he attempted to pull away. He laughed hoarsely at your action but obliged to your needs. With one hand massaging your breast, his mouth took the other, circling with his tongue, then kissing, and just when you thought he had forgotten what you wanted, he bit again.

“Kazuya,” you moaned out as he continued to pleasure you. He slowly kissed his way back to your lips. Your hand found its way to his hardened self and palmed him through his shorts. His movements stalled and you grinned. Slowly, you pulled the waistband back, just enough to slip your hand down and around him. He sucked harder.

“Do you like it when I touch you?” you purred into his ear, stroking him slowly, fluctuating the pressure. He leaned his head against your chest, panting.

“It’s better than I ever imagined.”

You paused at that, stalling your hand as Miyuki bucked against you, begging for friction again.

“Have you thought about me like this before, Kazuya?” You drew out his name slowly and seductively and his eyes flashed with hunger.

Without a word, he lifted you up from the ground, your legs wrapping around him on instinct. He brought you to the bed and laid you down, quickly shedding your shorts from your hips. His own sweatpants were soon to follow. You grasped his length and took him in your mouth, smiling as he moaned your name. And then you were stroking him agonizingly slow.

“Please, oh god please move faster.”

You had never heard such desperation from him. He had always been cool and collected and yet he was begging you. You stopped all together. His eyes widened and his breath stuttered. You smirked up at him.

He pushed down against you with a growl, kissing you hard and passionately on the lips, grinding his hips against you to remind you what he wanted. You couldn’t help but return the movement, pressing your own hips against him.

He began to kiss down your body slowly, toying with the black lace fabric as he went. His touch felt like fire and ice all at once.

“Kazuya,” you breathed out as his mouth explored your most sensitive place. Your hands found themselves in his dark locks, gripping him with every movement. He kissed his way back up to you, hands taking their turn in exploring as you got to taste his mouth once again. His fingers were agonizingly slow and teasing at first. You grinded against them, desperate for more.

“Please, faster. I’m so close.” He kissed and sucked at your neck as his fingers finally, quickly, and rhythmically pleasured you. His other fingers toyed with your breasts, sending your pleasure into overdrive. And when the coil snapped inside you, you made sure to call his name. Because Kazuya was the only one, you’d come undone for.

When he lay next to you, his knee slipped between your thighs and your hand once again returned to his hardness. And you didn’t stop until he spilled himself across your chest, calling your name in a voice thick with desire for more.

His chest heaved in time with yours as you both stared at each other. He looked you up and down. You reached out and gently touched his face, your hand shaking slightly. Miyuki caught your hand in his and pressed it to his lips.

“You’re incredible.”

He quickly reached for the towel hanging on your bed post and cleaned your chest. You slipped your sweatshirt on over your head and smiled your thanks at him. After slipping his sweatpants back on, he sat against the headboard and opened his arms for you to curl inside. You rested your head on his chest and breathed.

“Are you okay?” he asked you quietly, one hand holding your own, the other running through your hair. You smiled against his chest and nodded.

“Never better, Kazuya.” He tilted your chin up to him and you couldn’t help but think this must be a dream. His thumb brushed your cheekbone again and his grin returned, all be it with an air of softness to it. Softness, you couldn’t help but think, was reserved only for you.

“Keep using my name, will you?”

And though it was still all unknown and undefined. You were perfectly content to spend your night beside Miyuki Kazuya.