Chapter Text
Unexpected.
That’s the word Sawamura would use to describe the incident where Miyuki had gotten hurt without anyone knowing and continued to play like nobody’s business.
Sure, Eijun had been worried and frustrated too, especially because he was Miyuki’s pitcher—Miyuki’s partner for god’s sake—and yet he was the last person to realize his catcher had gotten hurt during the game he was pitching in. He had been literally throwing the ball into that bastard’s mitt the whole game, had been the one interacting with him the most, and he still failed to notice his catcher had gotten hurt.
So, yeah. He was a little pissed at both himself and Miyuki for not telling him. But mostly himself.
Still, the word ‘unexpected’ fits the situation better, Eijun nods to himself. He always had this impression that Miyuki was unbeatable. A stubborn–cold-hearted–emotionally constipated jerk with a pretty face–best batter–best catcher–hell, best everything– kind of impression. So when they had ended the game that day and Eijun saw Miyuki practically melt in relief and pain when Kuramochi threw an arm over his captain’s shoulder, Eijun realized that Miyuki is more human than he likes to show.
It was unexpected that his untouchable catcher could actually get hurt. And yes, it made Sawamura feel even worse about not noticing that he was hiding it the whole time even though they were a battery and Eijun was right there . He thinks that he and Miyuki are pretty close, but after this incident, Sawamura’s starting to lose confidence because how could Miyuki hide it from him?
With unexpected things came unexpected news and unexpected decisions. Like right now, the coach had just revealed to them that Miyuki had been told to rest for two days and was only allowed to play using sixty percent of his ability in their next game. That would’ve been fine if it weren’t for the fact that their next game was at Koshien stadium for their spring tournament.
“Sixty percent?! As in barely more than half? As in six, zero—”“Zono stop yelling, you’re freaking everyone out!”
Needless to say, the news started a huge commotion. After all, even though Eijun hates to admit it, Miyuki is the team’s foundation. He is the star of Seidou and everyone knows it. Not having him in full condition for their next game would be a brutal blow that Seidou might not be able to handle. Although Kawakami’s elbow is still injured and Furuya is still out of commission because of his ankle, Sawamura humbly believes that as long as he, the ace —that has a nice ring to it—is still here, their defense should be fine. It was their offense that he was worried about now that their main cannon had gone and played sumo mid match, getting himself injured.
“Unexpected. Unexpected… unexpected, unexpected,” Sawamura grumbled, still pissed at himself for not noticing and allowing it to get to this point. “I hate that word.”
Zono and some of the others hovered around Miyuki, fussing over him while he laughed at Kuramochi’s attempts to rein in the mayhem.
Kuramochi glared at the catcher, gritting his teeth. “Don’t fucking laugh at me, you bastard! This is all your fault!”
“Hmm? What was that? It’s your duty as vice captain to help take the load off of the captain’s shoulders and keep things in line while he’s injured? Why, yes, I’m glad you understand your responsibility,” Miyuki smirked mischievously, provoking Kuramochi with his words.
“..Hah?!” Kuramochi snarled, cracking his knuckles. “Keep running your mouth and I’ll personally make sure you can’t even swing at sixty percent next game!”
It only made Miyuki laugh more before Eijun walked up to them, slapping the catcher on the back. “Now, now, Kuramochi-senpai, we can’t hurt cap so badly. He is a weak man right now and unfortunately we still need him for our next game.”
Miyuki raised a brow. “Weak?”
And maybe it’s the way Sawamura said it so sincerely with no ulterior motive, like he does with all things, that Miyuki pauses and frowns for a second. “Oi, what do you mean ‘unfortunately’?”
Kuramochi smirked victoriously, throwing an arm over his roommate’s shoulders while glancing at Miyuki with a look in his eyes that said ‘I win.’ Eijun doesn’t understand why, but he assumes it has something to do with their odd best friend relationship that neither would ever like to admit.
The coach cleared his throat as he waited for the commotion to die down. “I know that you are all concerned about Miyuki’s condition, however, I don’t plan on using him the whole game.”
Eijun immediately straightened, furrowing his brows as he let his eyes drift to said crippled boy who looked just as taken aback, if not, even more uncomfortable with that statement. Sawamura could see how hard the teen was restraining himself from saying anything. Eijun doesn’t think he’s seen Miyuki ever look like that—with his fists and jaw clenched, his usual smug and infuriatingly calm smile that danced on the edge of a smirk now forced with agitation that he couldn’t speak on.
The coach is the one person Eijun knows Miyuki would never talk back to, out of the great amount of respect he has for the man. Although, the ridiculous constipated look he had on his face did enough of the talking; it was written all over him how much he hated and rejected the idea of not playing the whole game.
Eijun couldn’t help but stifle a giggle.
“Miyuki, don’t look at me like that because I’m not changing my mind.” The coach said, the edges of his mouth curving upwards slightly at the sight. “Four innings. That’s all you get.”
“...Yes sir,” the catcher spoke dejectedly and—oh my god? Eijun couldn’t believe it. Was Miyuki Kazuya sulking ?
Eijun and Kuramochi cackled silently. The coach even let out a small smile.
“I’ll think about making it five if you properly rest up and your condition improves by the day of. And try to avoid picking off too many runners, if possible,” Kataoka added after giving it a thought. It certainly made all the difference to Miyuki who looked a little happier.
“Okumura, you’ll sub in after Miyuki,” Kataoka explained. “I know it’s a big responsibility subbing in for your captain, but I trust you’ll be able to do it.”
Eijun smiled, knowing the situation for the wolf boy couldn’t get any better. He could feel his aura from across the room.
“Yes sir!” Okumura replied with that intense air around him.
“As for the rest of the lineup that day, we’ll go with our usual setup, but there’ll be a lot more pressure. Batters go out there and score a lot of points to make things easier for your captain.”
The coach sure knew how to fire everyone up. The whole room’s atmosphere changed just from a couple of his words. People were now teasing Miyuki and talking about how it's now their turn to save him. Kataoka turned his gaze onto Eijun.
“Sawamura, you’ll be starting this game. I’m counting on you to play the whole game, so pace yourself.”
Eijun’s entire face lit up, a huge grin spreading across his features. He could feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on him, but the words his coach said to him drowned out everything else. Eijun knew what it meant for the coach to trust him with the whole game; a lot of pressure would be on him. Without Miyuki in full condition, it meant the results of this game were mostly going to be based on his performance. It was going to be an especially intimidating task since there was no comfort in having Nori-senpai or Furuya to back him up if he messed up—they were both out of commission due to injuries. Furuya tried to protest but the coach was having none of it.
Eijun could hear his heart thumping quickly in his ears with nerves and excitement. The coach was counting on him .
“Yes, boss! This Sawamura will work hard to meet your expectations!”
Maybe some unexpected things could be good too.
“Don’t work too hard, now. We don’t want you passing out mid-game because you decided to overwork yourself,” Miyuki teased.
Eijun immediately puffed up, glaring at Miyuki. “Shut up cripled boy! It would be your fault if I passed out—which I won’t, because I’m not that reckless!” They both knew he kind of was.
“Just sit back and be amazed, cap!”
Kuramochi cackled beside him, leaning into Eijun with his arm tightening slightly around his shoulders. “Cripled boy? I’ve taught you well, haven’t I?” The short stop smirked. Sawamura giggled, realizing how much his roommate’s tendencies have rubbed off on him.
“You better recover fast, Miyuki Kazuya, or else wolf boy’s gonna steal your spot,” Eijun laughed loudly. “He’ll whisk me away!”
Miyuki raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth tugging up into that familiar evil smug grin—equal parts amused and unbothered. Eijun hates the way he always looks like he’s won.
“Oh?” he hummed, voice smooth and teasing. “I’m gone for not even four innings and suddenly I’m replaceable?” he drawled, but there was a glint of amused challenge behind the lenses of his glasses.
“Didn’t realize I had to start guarding my spot and my pitcher.” The catcher took a small step into Eijun’s personal space, nudging him with his shoulder, smirking. “Careful, Sawamura. Some wolves bite.”
Eijun’s heart thudded embarrassingly loud in his chest from the proximity. “Maybe, but he won’t bite me—only people who mess with me, isn’t that right Okumura-shounen?” he grinned, turning his attention to the first year catcher who was growling and glaring at Miyuki.
“I’ll steal your spot, Miyuki-senpai,” the blonde catcher voiced with real intent. He wasn't joking—and Eijun liked that about him. That fire mirrored his own, making them a good pair with their chemistry on the mound naturally falling into place. After their little face off they had earlier in the year—one Eijun, oh so mercifully forgave him for like the gracious senpai he is—they’d ended up clicking better than expected.
Eijun genuinely had fun being a battery with Okumura. And he could tell the younger boy had changed, just a little. Maybe it was because he didn’t hate Eijun as much anymore, or maybe he even liked him. Whatever it was, Okumura actually smiled these days. That tiny shift? It made Eijun’s heart feel a little lighter every time, knowing the boy finally warmed up to him and was earnestly enjoying baseball with him.
Miyuki let out a light laugh, adjusting his glasses. “You sure don’t waste any time, do you? Guess I’ll have to speed up my recovery then. Can’t have my precious partner getting stolen by some stray dog.”
Eijun’s eyes widened in disbelief, and the others around him let out a series of shocked, stifled laughs, followed by an exaggerated chorus of “Ohhh” at the unexpected roast.
“Damn, Miyuki. Stray dog? Go easy on the poor kid,” Kuramochi cackled. “He doesn’t need to be attacked just because someone’s feeling a little possessive—ow!” Miyuki had stepped around Sawamura to land a rough kick to Kuramochi’s shins.
Eijun furrowed his brows in confusion. Possessive?
“Who’s possessive?” Sawamura asked innocently, tilting his head.
Kuramochi opened his mouth to say something but Miyuki placed a hand on his face, pushing him back, and responded instead. “Sawamura, are you up for pitching a couple to me right now?”
The ace froze as a dopey grin stretched across his face. His golden eyes were all sparkly, staring at the catcher as if he had hung the moon and stars himself. And my god was this boy starving for Miyuki’s attention.
“Is this a dream?!” Sawamura exclaimed, his beaming grin rivaling that of the sun. “Is Miyuki Kazuya seriously offering to catch for me??”
A chorus of laughs filled the room, but the only one Eijun could hear was Miyuki’s smooth deep chuckle.
“Don’t get too used to it, ace-sama. You’ve been surpassing my expectations lately, so I figured you deserve a reward.”
Eijun blushed, ears turning pink as he bit back his smile that threatened to grow. That small bit of praise from his captain was enough to make Sawamura’s whole week, filling his chest with immense joy and warmth. Miyuki Kazuya was praising him.
It was too good to be true.
For a second, he forgot how to form words. “A-Are you even Miyuki Kazuya? Who are you, you imposter!” Sawamura yelled, trying to cover up his flustered stutters.
The older teen had this unreadable look on his face as he stared at Sawamura for a moment, the glare in his glasses covering his eyes. Eijun blinked up at him, brain still buffering from the unexpected praise and—oh, there he goes again with the word ‘unexpected.’
The catcher tilted his head back slightly, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth—a kind that always spelled trouble for Eijun. “Wow, harsh. First I offer to catch for you, and now I’m an imposter?” he said, adjusting his glasses with mock offense. “Maybe I should take the offer back.”
Eijun immediately panicked, arms flailing out defensively. “N-No, wait! I take it back! You’re totally Miyuki! The real deal! One hundred percent! Signature smirk and everything!”
Miyuki laughed again, and Eijun could practically feel the smug satisfaction radiating off of him. “That’s what I thought,” Miyuki said, eyes glinting. “Now, let’s go to the bullpen.”
The ace huffed, muttering under his breath, “Stupid glasses-wearing genius catcher...” but even he couldn’t hide the soft smile curling at his lips.
Why did Miyuki always have to say things that made it so hard for Eijun to keep pretending he didn’t completely adore him?
“I hate to burst your bubble, Eijun-kun, but aren’t you forgetting something?” Haruichi asked with pity for some reason.
Eijun raised a brow, staring at Haruichi cluelessly, before the pink haired boy gestured towards Miyuki. The ace turned his gaze to Miyuki who was talking with some other third year students as he began walking out of the cafeteria.
Eijun squinted, staring at him like he was trying to solve a complex equation with no numbers—eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed in deep thought. His gaze followed Miyuki’s every movement, trying to piece together what Haruichi could possibly mean.
Then, like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him, his shoulders sagged, realization smacking him across the face.
“Oh my god,” he breathed, eyes widening in horror. “He’s injured.”
The words left him like a punch to the gut.
At first glance, the captain was talking with others normally, chatting all composed and unreadable—but now Sawamura saw the way his body subtly leaned toward his uninjured side, how he’d roll his shoulder every now and then as if doing so would make it better.
Flashes to that match where the pitcher from Seikou idiotically tackled Miyuki appeared in his head. He clenched his fists.
He felt like a complete idiot.
“I got so excited I… completely forgot,” he muttered, voice small.
Haruichi offered him a sympathetic pat on the back. “It’s okay. You weren’t the only one.”
His fingers absently tugged at the hem of his shirt. “He said he’d catch for me,” he said quietly. “He really meant it… even though he can’t.”
And god, that made it so much worse.
“Sawamura, you good?” Miyuki called from where he was standing in the doorway, ready to leave. It seemed the older noticed the pitcher’s sudden gloominess because the look on his face was bordering on worry, but Eijun knew better than to call it that.
“Idiot,” he called out, tone somewhere between a tease and a plea. “How can you make an offer and not even back it up? That’s false advertising, captain.”
It seems even Miyuki forgot he was hurt, because he looked at Sawamura the same way, trying to figure out what he was talking about.
Until he did.
And somehow, his reaction was so much worse.
Miyuki looked guilty and frustrated with himself in a way that twisted something in Eijun’s chest. “Ah… right,” Miyuki muttered, low and more to himself than to anyone else.
There was something bitter in the way he said it. Like he was mad, not at Eijun, but at himself. For forgetting. For getting the boy’s hopes up. Probably for offering something he couldn’t actually follow through on. Everyone knew how excited and happy Sawamura would get when he was offered to play catch, especially by Miyuki. The catcher probably felt guilty for it, and all Eijun wanted to do was give him a big smack on the back of his head for it because that was stupid. He didn’t want anyone feeling bad because of his own childish tendencies.
Miyuki exhaled through his nose and adjusted his glasses again, a nervous tic Eijun had memorized by now. “Guess I got a little ahead of myself. Sorry,” he apologized.
Eijun hated it.
“Don’t apologize to me, stupid tanuki!” Eijun shook his head. He couldn’t believe he was yelling at Miyuki Kazuya for apologizing . Those two things don’t even belong in the same sentence. Unbelievable. And unexpected. Again, that stupid word.
“Rest for the next two days, get better, and then you can catch for me.” Eijun grinned. “Until then, I’ll be pitching like my life depends on it and I’ll improve like crazy again—maybe come up with another breaking ball—so that when you come back, I’ll be so good that you’ll be begging to catch for me.”
Miyuki leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as his head fell to the side, letting it gently press against the wood. His usual grin eased into something gentler, quieter, more relaxed. It made his cheek nudge against the doorframe, eyes settling on Eijun with an expression the pitcher couldn’t quite decipher, lingering on him a second longer than necessary. Eijun tilted his head, puzzled by the shift, but chalked it up to Miyuki being weird again.
“Wait for me?” Miyuki asked.
“I’ll be waiting.” Sawamura replied.
“Boss, this Sawamura would like to participate in fielding practice today!” Sawamura blurted out of nowhere, prompting the entire first string to nearly trip over themselves as they whipped around to stare at him in bewilderment.
Eijun tilted his head at their reactions. He knows he lives and breathes the pitcher’s mound, always hyper-focused on throwing balls and nothing else, but it’s not like he didn’t understand the importance of fielding too. He just… never really said it out loud before.
He started to get a little uncomfortable when the coach just kept staring at him with blank surprise, so he added, “After all, an ace needs to be good at everything, including fielding!”
“Sawamura,” the coach began, his tone even but sharp, eyes narrowing slightly. “What’s your goal? If you’re just planning on running around without a clear purpose, then you’re wasting both your time and everyone else’s. I need to know you’re doing this with intention, not just to prove a point.”
Eijun bit his lip, golden gaze drifting over the field of curious eyes, finding Miyuki watching him with quiet interest. The pitcher turned back to the coach, eyes now filled with seriousness.
“It’s just—ever since you told us about Miyuki’s condition, I’ve been thinking…”
Kuramochi whispered, “He’s been thinking?”
“I heard that!” Eijun snapped, pointing dramatically.
He sighed, scratching his head awkwardly as he focused his attention on Kataoka. “I’m not sure if you’ll go for it, but... I have an idea—kind of.”
The boy flinched a little when he noticed the yakuza boss’ eyes narrow scarily. He swallowed nervously, taking it as a sign to continue. “Miyuki’s not gonna be one hundred percent behind the plate. He’s not gonna be able to do his weird mind-reader stuff or his freaky fast pick-offs.” He glanced toward Miyuki, who raised a brow. “No offense!”
“Offense taken,” Miyuki muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
Eijun turned back to the coach. “So I thought—if he can’t do all that catcher-ninja stuff, I’ll just do more on my end! If he can’t cover for me, then I’ll cover for him. That’s what a battery is, right?” He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.
There was a beat of stunned silence in the air.
“If one part’s not working at 100%, the other’s gotta go 150%! I'll make sure the runners don’t get on base. And if they do—fine! I’ll gun them down myself! I’ve been practicing pick-offs anyway!” Eijun clapped his hands once like the matter was settled. But no one interrupted. He took a step forward like he was about to deliver a pitch—not an idea.
“I’ll control the runners. I’ll throw pick-offs. I’ll focus on my control more too—so we won’t get into any weird situations and it gives Miyuki room to breathe,” he added, nodding firmly, like he was convincing himself. “If I have to pitch perfect games until he’s back to normal, I’ll do it.”
His eyes flicked to the field, where Miyuki stood watching. “He doesn’t have to carry everything by himself anymore. He’s already done that enough.”
There was a strange buzz in the air. Something that felt a little like disbelief, and a little like awe. Eijun didn’t quite catch it—he was too focused on saying the rest.
“But that’s just defense! Offense—offense is where we really gotta think smart.” Eijun said, voice rising with excitement. “I hate to say it, but Miyuki’s like... the guy. He’s the one who brings in the runs. Clutch home runs, walk-offs, all that annoying prodigy stuff.” He mumbled, puffing his cheeks.
Saying that sentence out loud felt like betrayal to every argument they’d ever had. Miyuki Kazuya didn’t need more reasons to smirk like that. Still, it didn’t make it any less true—and that annoyed him more than anything.
He let out a determined breath. “It takes more than one person to cover for him. So what if... we don’t rely on that this time? What if we shift to plays where he doesn’t have to move as much? Like uh... the hips! Squeeze plays!”
“Squeeze plays put pressure on the defense, right?” He had been listening to Chris-senpai’s lessons, thank you very much. “It also means Miyuki doesn’t have to use his whole body—less stress! We don’t need home runs, just smart plays and teamwork.”
He bounced on the balls of his feet, grinning. “We’re good enough to do that, right?! We can totally throw them off!”
He didn’t realize how quiet it had gotten until someone muttered a quiet, “Holy crap…”
Eijun blinked, confused. “What? Did I say something weird?”
No one answered.
Eijun tilted his head, waiting for the coach’s response. The silence stretched for a moment, and then the coach finally spoke.
“Squeeze play,” Kataoka echoed, voice unreadable. “If we go with this strategy, you do realize you’ll be under a lot of pressure on offense too, right?”
Eijun blinked. “Huh?”
“You’re good at bunting,” Kataoka said plainly. “One of the best on the team. Of course I’ll use you a lot.”
He hadn’t thought of it that way. Honestly, he hadn’t really thought of himself at all when he blurted the plan out. He just thought it was a way to help the team until Miyuki recovered.
“…Oh. Right. That makes sense,” he mumbled.
Kataoka didn’t respond right away. He let out a short breath. “It’s reckless.” He said simply. “You're asking to shoulder both the mound and the offense all because you want to cover for someone else.”
Sawamura looked like he wanted to argue, but Kataoka continued, his next words slower. “But... it’s also the kind of thinking I’d expect from a true ace.”
Eijun’s heart squeezed with pride. His eyes widened as he bit his lip to keep himself from smiling.
How long he’s waited to hear those words from the coach.
“You’re not trying to win for yourself. You’re thinking of your teammates, of how to shift the strategy around someone’s weakness without making it a liability. You understand Miyuki's large role on this team and you were able to come up with an idea to work around him.” His voice gained more weight. “You understand the risk. You’re not running blindly—you’re choosing to take it head-on.”
There was a pause. The coach had this look in his eye that Eijun knew meant more than a thousand words.
“You’re already carrying the mound. If you take this on too, it’ll be a lot.” Kataoka folded his arms, narrowing his eyes as if he could see right through Eijun. It made the pitcher feel exposed, like the coach could see everything he was thinking. “Can you handle it?”
“I can.” He responded with no hesitation. The answer came out instinctively—so much so, it even surprised the coach whose eyes widened a bit.
Eijun didn’t care. As long as he could help the team, as long as he could keep Miyuki behind the plate where he belonged, that was enough.
“I mean,” he added, scratching at his cheek and letting out a small, sheepish laugh, “it’s not like I’m doing anything special. I just thought… if Miyuki’s hurting, then the rest of us have to move a little more, right? That’s all.”
He smiled wide, earnest and lopsided. “Besides, that bastard’s always covering for me. It’s my turn.”
Kataoka didn’t say anything at first. He just watched him, eyes heavy with something unreadable. But then, slowly, the coach nodded once.
“Today,” he said. “Show me.”
Eijun grinned so wide it hurt his cheeks. “Yes, boss!”
“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.”
“Sorry, boss!” He called, giving a quick bow before jogging back to the field with that bright, clueless grin on his face.
The second he reached the others, he slowed. Everyone was staring.
Kuramochi was the first to break the silence, his voice flat. “You’re out of your mind.”
Eijun blinked owlishly. “...Eh?”
“You—” Kanemaru gestured vaguely with his hands as if they could summon the words he wanted to say. “Who the hell thinks like that?”
Sawamura furrowed his brows, pouting in confusion. “What are you talking about?” He doesn’t understand what’s so complicated about his plan. “Miyuki’s hurt. And the team needs to win. That’s it.”
He was the pitcher. Miyuki was his partner. If his partner was hurt, he just needed to help more. To pick up the slack. Man, if he was today’s genius, they might actually be doomed.
Kuramochi opened his mouth, then shut it again. “You’re actually insane,” he said, almost impressed.
“You said that already,” Eijun huffed.
“Yeah, and I’ll keep saying it until it gets through that thick skull of yours, you reckless dumbass.”
Even the first years looked at Sawamura with wide eyed looks, especially Okumura who watched him with a different gaze. Well, he wasn’t growling at him. So something was definitely off.
“Do you even realize how much you’re taking on?” Toujou muttered. “You’re not supposed to change the entire team strategy by accident, you maniac.”
Eijun shrugged. “I just thought it’d help.”
“Eijun-kun, if you thought like this all the time, you might actually be a lot scarier for other teams.”
“If I actually thought ?! I think really hard sometimes—I think all the time!” The pitcher gasped, looking offended as he stared at the pink haired boy with wide eyes. “Is this the return of dark Haruchi?!”
“...You’re an idiot,” Shirasu said and someone else snorted, but it was softer than usual. Like it meant something else entirely.
Furuya suddenly appeared beside him, nodding solemnly. “He’s kind of amazing though.”
That did it. Everyone looked at Furuya like he’d grown a second head. For Furuya, the quiet emotionless polar bear who rarely interacts with people, to say something like that especially to his rival—albeit, it is Eijun— was undoubtedly very shocking. Even for Eijun who, although felt very happy from being complimented by one of his best friends/rival, was a little confused as to what he did that was so amazing.
“Don’t say it like that, you’ll inflate his ego,” Zono muttered, shaking his head.
Meanwhile, Eijun looked around for Miyuki only to find him in the same spot. He was looking at Eijun with a strange look on his face again—like amusement and disbelief, and something too serious to name mixed all together.
The pitcher squirmed a little under his gaze. “What?” He asked.
It looked like he was fighting something back before settling on a smirk. “You really came up with all that to make things easier for me? You might start making me think you have a little crush on me or something, Sawamura,” He teased, voice silky smooth as he enunciated every syllable of his name.
Oh boy. If only he knew.
Eijun’s heart nearly jumped right out of his mouth, his cheeks turning red with the tips of his ears. His stomach tingled with butterflies. Crap. He had to calm down. He was so flustered he almost forgot how to breathe.
And of course this bastard just stood there, waiting for Sawamura to say something with that stupid smug look on his face. He even leaned in a little, like he wanted to hear what disaster would come out of Sawamura’s mouth next.
God. Just dig the grave, jump in, and ask Furuya to throw the mound dirt over him.
Eijun exhaled a deep breath, calming his heart before answering Miyuki. “Yeah, I did,” he settled for, choosing to ignore Miyuki’s tease. “You’re injured.” Eijun grumbled.
And thank god the catcher didn’t choose to tease him anymore, instead choosing to let it go and continue talking.
“I can still play.”
“I know.” Eijun said with a stubborn tone, completely forgetting about the previous remark. “That’s why I’m covering for you.”
Miyuki stared at him for a second. Then he exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Unreal.”
The audacity.
Sawamura puffed his cheeks, fuming silently. What was that supposed to mean? He was being serious here! Miyuki was the one who got himself all injured and now he had the nerve to act like Eijun was the crazy one?
“You say that like you’re not lucky to have me!” He shot back.
Miyuki gave him a look of amusement and something else, but he didn’t deny it. That should’ve been a win, but Eijun could already feel the heat rising in his cheeks again.
“You better not mess up my signals,” Eijun mumbled under his breath.
Miyuki smirked. “You better not mess up your control.”
“I won’t!” Sawamura puffed his chest out, eyes turning cat eyed. He watched Miyuki chuckle, making something tighten in Eijun’s chest. The catcher walked over to the dugout to probably help the managers with things since he wasn’t able to participate in today’s practice.
He clenched his fists, mentally going over the plan again in his head. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, right? Just a plan to cover for Miyuki and keep the team going. He could handle it. He had to handle it.
A sudden kick to his butt snapped him out of his thoughts, making him yelp in surprise.
“Ow! You’re gonna knock the genius outta me!” Eijun squawked, flailing as he rubbed his stinging butt with a pout.
Kuramochi’s grin was mischievous as he leaned in close. “Not possible. You’d have to have some first,” He shot back, smirking. His tone shifted slightly, becoming more serious, if only for a moment. “Seriously though… just don’t burn yourself out, idiot.”
Eijun blinked, caught off guard for a moment by the shift in tone—but before he could respond, Kuramochi was already walking off, waving a hand behind him like nothing happened.
“Get your ass to warm-ups before Coach changes his mind!”