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Chapter Text

Sawamura Eijun had pitched the best game of his life, ball spinning from the tips of his fingers perfectly, throwing the best balls he could at the time. Once the game was finished, and Sawamura could confidently say he’d won - he found himself sprinting. Sprinting to meet the catcher, eyes hopeful - and Kazuya had smirked. Nice pitching. He had said, and it bloomed a new sense of pride and satisfaction in the pitcher’s chest. To be acknowledged, no, complimented by Miyuki was a fantastic feat in itself, let alone winning a game with his pitching alone. He felt his hands ache, even though he’d pitched a full game, the desire to pitch more stung in his very core.

“When we get back, Miyuki-senpai, catch ten of my pitches!” Eijun excitedly shouted, and Kazuya felt himself knitting his eyebrows together.

“A whole ten? Hahah, maybe in your next life.” Kazuya was tired too, and the catcher couldn’t help but admire this pitcher’s stamina. He could feel the energy from the dugout though, casting a glance, it was obvious Furuya was itching to pitch, and not given the chance, their resident polar bear would be all too excited to get back to Seidou and throw some. As catcher, it was Kazuya’s job to ensure that Furuya did so.

But before long, the Seidou team was filtering off the field, abandoning the stadium for the bus awaiting them outside. Their movements slow, tired, yet their desire to win - overwhelming. They were brimming with potential - and that alone was enough for Kazuya to find his eyes on Eijun’s back.

What does it take to fall in love, Kazuya wonders, staring at the baseball field - emptied. They’d just played a game here, fought as hard as they could - and they’d won. Though it had started to rain, heavily, afterwards. There was another game - and Rei offered to drive Kazuya back to Seidou afterwards if he wanted to watch it - though it looked unlikely that it would happen at all. Rei had taken the school van, so there was enough room for Kazuya, Kuramochi, Chris, and Haruichi. Who all eagerly stayed behind, ready to admire - ready to learn what the other teams could be capable of.

It wasn’t long before the game was called - and both teams wound up rescheduling for a later date. And with sluggish movements, what remained of Seidou all piled into the van, drenched - what a waste. Kazuya was admittedly, rather cold, and Rei was nice enough to blast the heat. The hot air pushed strands of Kazuya’s hair around, and boy could he not wait to get his achy, itchy muscles in the heated bath. They had a day off tomorrow - a Sunday, and Kazuya was already planning on reviewing today’s footage. He couldn’t shake off he bad feeling bubbling his gut, and he loathed it, so similar to the feeling he got when his dead had his back turned to Kazuya - shoulders shaking up and down, and Kazuya had been pouting because his mom hadn’t come to his game, so he’d walked home.

Kazuya let out a sigh, pinching his temple. He did not want to think of that, let alone now. They’d just won a game, couldn’t he focus on that instead? And man, was he tired.

“Mochi, you stink.” He grumbled, to distract himself from his current headspace, and that earned him a thump on the head, light. Kuramochi was probably too sore to give a good smack, and it probably took all of the shortstop to give that tiny thump. Still, it was appreciated, and Kazuya couldn't help the light hearted chuckle that bubbled from his chest. 

"Bahah, thank you!" 

“Oh yeah, like you smell great, Miyuki- and that wasn't a compliment, you shitty catcher...!” Kuramochi retorted, grumbling something about how Kazuya was the one stinking the van up, and how it was rude. Kazuya had responded with another thank you!  Which made Kuramochi seeth in annoyance, eyes twitching. Chris had simply laughed, a light chuckle - amused in the anitics between the two. Haruichi had his eyes closed, securing himself in a good nap. The van ride was peaceful, allowing them to eye the rain that dribbled against their window panes… until the van came to a rolling stop, a police officer had walked up to the van, his eyes full of something Kazuya couldn’t quite make out.

“There’s an accident ahead, so if you could turn around and head down third to get through.” He was polite, and he tipped his hat ever so slightly, Rei smiled. There was a solem look in his eyes as he did so, as if something truly horrible was ahead. Kazuya couldn't help but think to himself, was this how his mother's traffic guard looked? Or is that just simple, wishful thinking, that someone could look so similarly distraught as he had. 

“Oh, of course.” Rei responded, snapping Kazuya back into reality, plucking him fro his daze. Before long, they were back tracking - but traffic was sluggish, and Kazuya cast a glance back. He couldn’t see what the accident was, he could only make out what looked to be a mangle sports bag. It was black in color, and whatever the logo had been, it had been completely torn off. There was also something red on the ground - liquid, and Kazuya gulped around the lump in his throat. The flashing lights of the sirens, the call of ambulances ahead - whatever had transpired up ahead, had been horrible. 

They arrive at Seidou near an hour later than they should have, and the boys - and Rei - all scrambled out of their vehicle prison. Eager to stretch their tired limbs, the rain had ceased. Leaving the air hot a humid, and Kazuya felt himself quirk a brow in surprise. They weren’t here? It was completely as they’d left it, and the Seidou bus was nowhere in sight. Maybe they took a wrong turn? Rei slipped her phone out from her pants, dialing a number and pressing it against her ear. She was possibly calling Kataoka - but when her brows creased together, that was all Kazuya needed to conclude that the call had failed to go through.

“That’s strange…” She mumbled, lifting a finger to adjust her glasses ever so slightly. “Well, I bet you boys are hungry, we have a victory dinner prepared - I’m sure the others won’t mind if you start without them. So, go get washed up and meet in the cafeteria - hopefully they’ll make it back by the time you guys change.”

And the boys had done as Rei instructed, simply because what she said was logical. The others would be there soon, and so they went their different ways, some jumping straight into the baths, others drifting off into their rooms. Kazuya was one of the few that slipped into his room, dark, and cold. He had a pair of sweats, boxers, a tee lying for him, as well as a basket of his favorite soaps. He grabbed those, and then a towel, before heading into the baths, where he sank next to Mochi, after stripping.

“I could stay in here forever…” Kuramochi grumbled, arms folded on the side of the baths, leaning his cheek against his forearms. His eyes were screwed shut, lips drawn in a content smile.

“Mm…” Kazuya responded, or more like, acknowledged, sinking lower into the heated, green water below. It really was an excellent experience, Seidou baths were always nice - if you got past the public use aspect. Chris and Haruichi soon filtered in as well, and after they’d finished spraying themselves clean of mud, washing themselves off thoroughly, they too slipped into the baths. Chris found comfort in leaning against the wall, whilst haruichi found his to be somewhere in the middle.

Kuramochi was the first to leave, after the heat had started to become unpleasant, fingers looking like prunes. Kazuya was the next to pluck himself up, hunger gnawing at his lower stomach, demanding he go enjoy consumption. Though he found it kind of strange, considering he was in the baths for a half hour - he tugged on his sweats with one, swift motion.

When he entered the cafeteria, he did not expect to see Kuramochi on the ground, both hands threaded through his hair, tugging. He did not expect to see Rei standing, tears gushing down her face, and most of all… he did not expect to hear:

“There’s been an accident.”

——

The lobby of the emergency room was decently full, as Seidou players filtered from their checkups, the bus had a full on collision - three students wound up in critical condition. They wouldn’t release names, but Kazuya couldn’t stop gnawing at his bottom lip. He prayed, just like he prayed for his mother, that Sawamura Eijun would be the next to walk out. Most people avoided eye contact as they filtered out, faces contorted into looks of pain. Some wrapped up, some in casts -

This was going to be a big impact on practice.

Kazuya kicked himself.

The next people to filter through the door, resembled Sawamura quite a bit. From their chocolate hair, to their molten eyes, and the way they shouted at the nurses - and it was the name that Kazuya felt a sense of dread bubbling in his chest. They’d requested to see Sawamura Eijun, and most parents had filtered in calmly, waiting for their sons’ release. The woman, with a calm expression on her face, found her hands clasping over her mouth, a choked up noise slipping from her. When the family trudged over to a different section of the lobby, Kazuya felt himself staring. The woman was behind held by a man with a horrendous hairdo, and the oldest man had his bottom lip pursed, eyes trained on his hands as he pressed them together. Before long the woman was sobbing, and so was the man, and erupted like wildfire - the old man was too. Kazuya had seen pictures of these people, he realized, the woman being Eijun’s mother, the man being his dad, and the elder guy being his grandpa. The nurse looked down.

Kazuya felt himself walking out, legs moving swiftly, lips pursed, eyes trained on the tile below. He’d walked swiftly, and before long found himself in an empty hall, tucked with vending machines. He selected a rather sweet drink, and then a can of black coffee. The sweet drink was for Sawamura when he got out, it was Mango-Tacular. Eijun’s pronounced favorite beverage. The can was cold against his palm, and Kazuya hadn’t even realized how much he’d been sweating. The lights, horribly bright, seemed to burn his skin, and it wasn’t long that he was crumbling to his ass. As much as he tried to ration, it had become hauntingly obvious - everyone but three students had returned, and neither had Katoka.

Kominato Ryousuke, Sawamura Eijun, Furuya Satoru. Those three students had yet to leave the IC, and Kazuya felt his first come into contact with the ground. He’d punched it, hard, eyebrows furrowing. Why does this have to happen?! An image, one that Kazuya had drowned in baseball and old video tapes - one he had forgotten along with his useless father, resurfaced. His mother, in a hospital gown, in an eerily White hospital room. Her neck in a brace, eyes devoid of life - and then it evolved. Into a funeral, with incense wafting through the air - so strong it was sickening. It evolved to a gravestone, which Kazuya visits every now and then to place flowers, and then it all transformed- Sawamura was the one instead, and an overwhelming pang of fear pulsating against Kazuya’s chest. Heart thrumming heavily into his ribs, painfully. No one was going to grab his shirt, shake him about, yell at him. No one was going to demand Kazuya catch the pitches of the future ace, no one was going to demand Kazuya stop being such a selfish bastard. No one was going to be as visibly influenced by Kazuya as much as Sawamura, no one was going to squeak out petty insults that met nothing -

Kazuya choked.

For the first time, in a really long time, tears threatened to leak out of his eyes, and he felt his eyes land on the clock, it's already been three hours, five since they left the stadium. Kazuya can’t help but think to the sports back, he should have known. He should have told Rei to stop, he should have ran to Sawamura. He wouldn’t be able to run to Sawamura now, and being stranded on this ugly tile floor - Kazuya felt so helpless, so utterly useless. Both drinks still lying at the bottom of the machine, waiting to be grabbed. Kazuya came to the conclusion, that no matter how long it took - how much time slowly crawled by, he would sit here. He would sit in this dreary hospital, and he would wait - he would wait for Eijun no matter what, even if Eijun never came.

Resolve set in stone, the catcher peeled himself off the ground, glowering at the wall as if it had insulted him - personally.

“Bakamura, I’ll wait for you, so just take your time, and recover, so I can catch for you.” Kazuya muttered, muted over the sound of a faint ambulance, and the hospital shaking to life with an alert - a color. And wait Kazuya did, after returning to the main lobby, both drinks in hand. He’d slouched in his seat, before people filtered out, leaving one of the bigger benches free, where he found himself curling up - and before long he was out, asleep, dead to the world around him. Kuramochi hadn’t gone anywhere either, lips pursed, and Haruichi - naturally - had been forced to leave with his family. They’d be back tomorrow, and the pinkette had begged - even pleaded - Kazuya to text him if anything was said about his older brother. Chris too had gone, a look of regret firm on his face, that dead look returning to his eyes - and the team spirit, as a whole, felt crushed. More so than any time ever before. Kuramochi too, faded into unconsciousness, the grim air draining - and it was good to get a little bit of shut eye. He’d already told his family he was fine, so they could relax - not that they’d have a feasible way of getting there, they were quite poor after all. Kuramochi had updated them on everything too, and they’d been happy to hear he was fine - their little gangster.

Kazuya felt his eyes peel open, neck and back sore - aching - from his uncomfortable sleeping position, and Kuramochi was already awake, legs propped up on the table before them. He was scowling - heavily - at the wooden doors that lead to the surgical rooms. Kazuya sat up, slowly, and he didn’t feel the familiar tug of exhaustion at his limbs, only a sense of urgency and anxiety - he brought a shaky hand out, grabbing at Kuramochi’s arm - who jostled slightly from the unexpected contact.

“Sawa… mura?” Kazuya croaked, sleep coating his voice, making it raspy, tense. Kuramochi simply shrugged, but he knew that wasn't fair to Kazuya. So…

“His family was called back ‘bout an hour ago, haven’t heard anything since. I tried to pry, about Ryousuke too - nothing. Bunch a tight lipped pansies.” The shortstop grumbled, running a hand through his disheveled, green hair. A few strands were poking out, the notorious bedhead that ‘Mochi wore so well. His leg was jumping up and down, after he’d taken them down from the round table - stock full of magazines. Hardly any of them were interesting, mostly cheap makeup ones - the occasional national geographic…There were television mounted to the wall at every turn, usually playing some dumb cartoon - or a pokemon rerun. At the other side of the lobby was a kids section, with building blocks, paper, and crayons. Kazuya could see it in the way Kuramochi was hunched in over himself, the guy was doing his best not to self destruct on the spot - and it was, honestly, a bit impressed.

“Rei already left, she took those with minor scrapes and bruises back to Seidou - there’s a lot of parental concerns right now, so they’re trying to clean things up. Chris brought us a bag, there’s blankets and clothes in it, if you uh, wanted to change - or plan on staying longer. Rei called your family, and told me to tell you there wasn’t an answer.” Kuramochi was rambling now, and at the mention of Kazuya’s father, the catcher found himself gritting his teeth together, nails digging into his palms. But before long, the two of them resumed silence, Kuramochi pushing a backpack towards Kazuya. Kazuya only grunted in response, eyes trained on the clock. It was noon, he’d slept until noon in this uncomfortable hospital. He watched the hand tick, as it ticked the time away, slowly but surely, at a snail's pace. The clock was mounted behind the nurse’s station, where they sat typing away at their computers, lips pursed - sometimes the phone would occasionally ring, and a polite old lady would answer. Usually leaving afterwards, before shortly returning after fifteen, twenty minutes. One time, the phone rang, she was gone for around thirty - and then someone else took her place.

It was about three pm, after slouching, swiping through his phone - Chris had brought it in the bag, along with a charger. Kazuya had gone digging through it, in boredom mostly, and shocked to find a few essential things. Like his wallet, phone, a list of contact information for the school, a couple of books Chris most likely found on Kazuya’s nightstand. There was also the baseball pitch counts, and the recordbook - a lot of things. Kazuya had been handed a lot to do, but he found himself still watching that damned clock, as if it had hypnotized him - drawn him into the call of the ticks. He eventually got bored of that though, and opted for a mobile game. It was a soccer captcha game, nothing exciting, but something that he could use to waste time - before moving onto a clicking game. Fingers rapidly tapping away at his phone screen, before he wound up flipping through the pages of his book. Kuramochi on the other hand, had taken to exploring the hospital, before returning with two bento boxes - something smelled good, and Kazuya hadn’t even realized how hungry he’d become.

“Eat, moron, you look sicker than most of the patients here.” Kuramochi stated, and Kazuya adjusted his glasses, snickering.

“We all know I’m pretty, most have moved on, I’m sorry you can’t get over it.” But, Kuramochi hadn’t retorted. The two of them untied their bentos, removing the lid, unveiling a cloud of smoke. There was white, sticky rice, orange chicken - Kazuya wrinkled his nose. He hated orange chicken, but he supposes it would be alright. There were tiny rice omelettes, tucked in the smallest square of the bento, and before long the two boys were wolfing down the food in front of them. Maybe it was trained habit, being forced to eat so much after their losses, or their shortcomings - but it ensured that they could eat, even when they had yet to know the condition of their hospitalized friends.

It was a silent agreement between Kazuya and Youchi, that they’d be at maximum capacity for whatever awaited them behind those wooden doors - when it was their turn to visit them, because those boys’ were tougher than steel - a flimsy car crash wouldn’t be detrimental…

Right?    

It was five pm, when a woman had walked over to Miyuki and Kuramochi, hair drawn into a bun. She looked young, yet the bags under her eyes suggested she’d been here all night - and that she was severely sleep deprived.

“Excuse me, are you Miyuki-san and Kuramochi-san?” She inquired, with the tilt of her head. Kuramochi was the one who nodded vehemently, demanding that she get on with it. “The Sawamuras’ said if you boys want, you can come see their son. His condition is… Well… Either way, if you’d follow me?” She turned on the heel of her sneakers, a loud squeak echoing from her shoes as she marched away - both Kazuya and Kuramochi scrambling upright, abandoning their stuff to follow - hastily - without even realizing it. Luckily there’d been a shift change again, and the old lady was back, who found herself ensuring their stuff was alright.

They walked, fast, yet slow. Trailing ever so slightly behind the nurse, who was swift in her movements, and before long they were boarding an elevator. It ended on the IC, which was the top floor. Most people weren’t allowed to visit, but if the family insisted - and offered special permission, they were granted entry. The two boys were crowned with visitors passes - a right, into the IC. When the door creaked open, it was extremely solem. People were rushing left and right, shouting, monitors beeping rapidly. The woman led to the two boys farther away from the more panicked area of the IC, taking them to a more melancholy side. The air was thickest here, eerily silent, and as they were brought to a room - the irony was overwhelming. The door was slid shut, a black 7 painted on the door. The door was glass, but the curtain drawn over had prevented prying eyes. The nurse said they were free to enter whenever, and before long, was trailing back the way she came - just as fast, if not albeit faster.  

Kazuya wasn’t sure what he was searching for, in the glass pane, a reason to walk forth? It seemed Kuramochi had the same problem too, eyes trained on the ground, face drawn into a painful expression of agony and worry - perhaps too much so. Should they knock? Neither of them moved their hands, yet that itch to see Sawamura - it was overwhelming. But they weren’t sure what would exist behind that door, if it would be the same boy that had chanted he’d be ace - if it was the same boy who threw wildly unpredictable pitches, hand whipping out, sending batters into a frenzy as they’d tried to hit it.

But, like most pitches, it was hittable.

The clock ticked-

It was 5:08 pm.   

Chapter Text

Kuramochi walked forward first, movements choppy - scared. Kazuya followed shortly after, tucking his hands into his sweat pockets. He didn’t know what to expect when they peeled back the curtain, part of him was expecting maybe a broken arm - or a mild concussion. Kazuya expected golden eyes full of life, tanned skin kissed by the sun, but when that baby blue current peeled back, Kazuya realized he had been too hopeful. Hooked up to a multitude of wires and cords, was their southpaw. The faint beeping of the heart monitor, to the Sawamura’s huddled around him, tears bubbling down their cheeks. They hadn’t looked up when the two entered, they’d stood like statues - unmoving in their grief. Kazuya’s lips fell into a thin line, causing wrinkles to form on his face. He’d chosen a seat, on the other side of the room, a spot where he could glare at his feet, and Kuramochi had chosen purchase against the wall, arms folded. They sat there in silence now, the occasional sniffle the only grounding noise.

Kazuya had seen it before. Sawamura Eijun was comatose, with a white bandage wrapped around his head, eyes sealed shut, with a breathing mask over his face. His arms were wrapped in thinner bandages, probably from minor cuts. There was a bandaid across his nose, and his right leg was in a cast. His tan skin was pale, and his hair matted down - Sawamura Eijun was unmoving, for the first time since day one.

“He looks like he does when he’s got the flu.” Kuramochi finally spoke up, softly, a laugh escaping his lips. “Though, when he has the flu he says he can still play baseball.”

This elicited a laughter from the others, the family members of Sawamura Eijun, and Kazuya was impressed. Mochi always had the ability to say something sentimental, but usually found it too embarrassing to say. Like when he was preparing the team as vice captain and told everyone to kill anyone in our way. It was humorful at the time, but Kuramochi had red cheeks and meaner remarks than usual after. Sometimes though, when you catch ‘Mochi in a sentimental mood - one where he can’t quite find the energy to be awkward - will he say something meaningful.

“That moron will not rest for anyone, he’ll be up before we know it - even with that cast, he’ll say he can pitch.” And with that, Kuramochi walked forward, gently pressing a hand against Sawamura’s left palm. He pressed his fingers softly, along the skin. “You protected this above all else, didn’t you, Sawamura?”

Kazuya hadn’t realized it when he first walked in, but the southpaw had his right hand covered in bandaids and bandages, but his left hand remained unscathed. Not a scratch - not even a bruise - on it. Kuramochi pulled his hand away, moving it to tap Sawamura’s face gently - before moving away.

“I need some air.” He whispered, softly, to the family, before walking past Kazuya - pausing to gently bump Miyuki’s shoulder with his wrist, before clearing out of the room. Kazuya realized, this was Kuramochi’s own way of offering a moment of relaxation to the catcher - as if to say, no one is going to judge you for your next actions. Kazuya tugged himself out of his chair… but he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. There was a lot he wanted to say, but he couldn’t quite find the words. For starters, he wanted to tell Eijun that Furuya would get ahead, that Furuya would forever remain the ace of Seidou if he never woke up - but Eijun was unmoving. Kazuya sighed, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. Even with his mom, when it was just him and her, he couldn’t ever form the sentences he wanted to - part of it was his mom was dying, and part of it felt useless. It felt useless to say anything to Sawamura, without the guarantee that the pitcher would even hear his voice. He opted to talk to the parents instead.

“How long?” Kazuya asked, and his voice came out much more choked than he had anticipated - hoarse, and dry, raspy. Sawamura’s mom - he assumes - speaks up.

“They don’t…. They don’t know. He hit his head, hard, and he’s in a comatose state - as you can see. If he doesn’t show signs of recovery in… 48 hours at max…” She trailed off, and Kazuya didn’t need to hear anymore to understand. If Sawamura Eijun didn’t show signs of recovery in 48 hours, the chances of him waking up… drop from 80 percent to 2 percent. That’s what the doctor had told him, back when he and his father visited his mother for the first time - and sure, little Miyuki shouldn’t have heard it, but he had.

“I see.” Kazuya whispered, voice barely even audible, almost drowned out by the beeping monitors. What else could he do…? He felt so hopeless again, so useless - just like he had when he saw his mother, the very woman who loved him more than anything else in the world - who had sacrificed everything to make it to his baseball performance. Part of him loathed her for it, had she just drove slower…

Kazuya found himself blaming Eijun for this one too, had the southpaw stayed behind with Kazuya, watched the game unfold before them - then… Then they wouldn’t be in this mess, the catcher wouldn’t be so harshly affected - but that’s another thing. Kazuya knew Furuya was in this mess, so was Ryousuke. The two of them hadn’t come out of the ICU either, and Kazuya hadn’t been granted special permission to go see them. No matter how unfair, how biased Kazuya was, he knew he felt so strongly about this because… he wanted to catch Sawamura’s pitches. He always did, and it took all his energy to deny Eijun every time - because if they overexert him now, Eijun won’t be able to pitch later. And Kazuya has seen what injuries can do to someone, so part of him was… trying to protect the pitcher.

And he’d felt useless.

He wanted to trade places, with Eijun, in this instance. Kazuya wishes, selfishly, that it was him who was tethered up to the buzzing of machinery, with an ill bringing bandage wrapped around his forehead. He wanted to be the one unresponsive, comatose to the entire world - oblivious to this breaking sensation in his chest. He wanted to be the one who hadn’t a clue what his family and friends were feeling, he wanted to be the one spared from this existential dread - the fluttering questions, the panic forming in his chest. But…

Here Kazuya stood, unmoving like a rock statue, unspeaking, staring simply at the boy who’d proclaimed to the world that he would be ace, no matter what. It was unbelievable. Kazuya moved his glasses, adjusting them on his face. They’d begun to hurt his face, from how hard he’d been wrinkling his nose and gritting his teeth, biting back the tears that scorched his eyes, begging to pour down his cheeks - but Kazuya did not falter. His will prevailed, and not a single tear drifted outward. That would be weak, and Kazuya already knew, tears just made everything worse - because tears are real - you feel them in the very core of your being, and Kazuya refuses - refuses with all his might - to believe that this isn’t some sick prank his brain is pulling on him. It has to be, it has to all be a bad dream -

The clock ticks.

It’s 6:00 pm.

Chapter Text

It’s when the rain comes booming down, soaking him to his core, does Haruichi Kominato realize the importance of his brother, Ryousuke Kominato. Sure, they’ve had a rather formal and tense relationship, but it’s beyond that. It was constantly a competition for the two of them, fighting back and forth with one another, Haruichi always yapping at Ryousuke’s heels. He’s arrived with his family, and his parents are talking about how good for nothing Seidou school is - unable to keep its students safe. But the truth was, the car that hit the Seidou bus was a driver who was heavily intoxicated - it was just plain unlucky. Haruichi trailed behind his parents, and when they did arrive in the other Kominato brother’s room, it was unpleasant.

Ryousuke’s eyes were open, yet dull, like they were missing something - and when he turned to face his family, his parents even, he looked shocked and confused.

“Who… are you?” Ryousuke inquired, softly, and years of memories flooded through Haruichi. Of the wooden bat he so desperately hung to, to the desire to surpass his brother - he no longer wanted to be the Haruichi drowned in Ryousuke’s shadow, he wanted to be the Haruichi who would only swing a wooden bat and fly farther - beyond - but suddenly that petty dream came tumbling down. Like the large shadow cast in front of him suddenly disappeared, and that the overwhelmingly bright light blinded him - he was blinded, by this Ryousuke with pink, fierce eyes that had been chopped down to this… bittersweet reality -

Ryousuke Kominato had lost what Ryousuke Kominato was, fierce.

It was Haruichi’s mom who had broke down sobbing, tears flooding her face, and it was his father who was ever so stone cold in his approach, abandoning the room. He turned around, fast on his heels, storming out. Haruichi, he, well… He couldn’t find the reaction he was looking for. Haruichi’s mom soon abandoned the room too, leaving just the two Kominato siblings, and Haruichi had a newfound strength. Pulling over a chair, he took a seat, and smiled.

“Ani- Ryousuke. You know your name, right?” Haruichi spoke, voice unwavering and strong. He took his hand, pointing to Ryou, then himself. “I’m Haruichi, your younger brother.”

“Ah, I know my name. I’m Ryousuke, but… for some reason that’s all I remember.” He sheepishly replied, Ryou taking his hand and scratching at the back of his head. Said head was bandaged up, and his left arm was set in a cast. Where the hospital gown failed to cover, over Ryousuke’s chest, was an arrangement of bandages, tightly wrapped to keep his injuries covered.

“That’s a good start, Aniki. Ah- since we… were little I’ve opted to call you Aniki, is that okay?” Haruichi found his voice starting to waver, crack ever so slightly, as suddenly the full weight of the situation dawned on him - this boy, whilst appearing as Ryousuke, was in fact, not. This was a shell of the former baseball star, leaving only a confused mess in its wake - and Haruichi, although selfish, couldn’t help but think… How could you forget me, your greatest rival? Ryousuke had replied, but Haruichi hadn’t listened. The tears were soon storming down his face, much to the other’s dismay - who rapidly tried to soothe the boy’s ache. Saying sweet nothings into the hospital air. The hospital, being so bright and white, and the beeping monitor - and the occasional codes being echoed through the microphones -

“Aniki… What… what are we going to do…” Haruichi sobbed, throwing his arms in a criss cross on the bed, and dropping his head onto them. His body shook with the uncontrollable shakes and cries that echoed deep from inside him.

----

Upon abandoning the Sawamura room, Kuramochi Youichi found himself blindly tumbling through the hospital IC wing. His limbs felt oddly heavy, and his breath felt labored. Everything was just so bright, and although he didn’t normally get faint easily, his vision was so blurred - and his head spinning - he couldn’t make heads or tails of where he was wandering off to. The hospital was teeming with life, despite it being a place the injured and those on their deathbeds go, nurses scrambling left and right, bodies flying past Kuramochi in a surreal pace. Much like everyone was trying to steal home, and Kuramochi started to envision a baseball scene - like he was benched, while the younger Kominato was called in for a pinch hit -

“Aniki… What… what are we going to do…”   

Kuramochi heard it loud and clear, to his left, it was Haruichi’s voice. The door was left ajar, and as Kuramochi peered in, as much as he shouldn’t have, he saw it. He was Ryousuke gently massaging the blubbering Haruichi’s right shoulder, gently, but his eyes, they were different. Ryousuke never knowingly opened them, but here they were, dull, no longer holding that dangerous, mysterious fire to them - they were wide, but they weren’t bright. Kuramochi knows, knows he doesn’t have permission to slip into this room, uninvited, but his legs had carried him. They’d carried him to the edge of the bed, and he’d gone unnoticed by the youngest Kominato, but not by the elder pinkette, who spared him a quizzical stare.

“Who are you?” Ryousuke inquired - pausing, “are you a nurse? I’m okay, and so is… my younger brother?” Ryou whispered the last part, as though he himself was unsure - like an actor would, if they weren’t sure about their lines. Kuramochi gaped.

“What?” He said, harsher than intended, and Haruichi sat up. His hair had been pushed aside from his face, allowing clear vision to his eyes - which were red and swollen, big fat tears still rolling down his cheeks. His lips quaking as he tried to keep the sobs concealed, voice strained.

“Kur… Kuramochi-senpai?” He sniffed, taking that back of his hand along his nose - and it was a heartbreaking scene. Kuramochi didn’t know what to say, and despite his better judgement, a laugh bubbled from inside him. It wasn’t his signature cackle, lighthearted display, it was cold - tense. He shook his head, once, and then again, before he sunk to his knees, latching his hands onto the edge of the hospital bed. The tears came gushing before long, Kuramochi himself couldn’t keep it contained. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but that cold laugh had become cold sobs, and he wasn’t sure where to go from here -

“You’re kidding, Ryou-san.” Kuramochi choked out, before scrambling off the ground. “We… we’re like the… We… there’s no way…” Kuramochi blubbered, turning to Haruichi. “I swear if this is a cruel Kominato prank, it’s not funny - Ryou-san wouldn’t forget me, kyaha, no way!”

The droning on silence is what really snapped something inside Kuramochi, when neither brother so much as moved. Ryousuke looked sympathetic, but it didn’t hold emotion - it was like a confused sympathetic, something that… wasn’t attached. Haruichi looked sad, completely heartbroken, he kept opening and closing his mouth - there was something the younger had to say - wanted to say - but it was like he couldn’t find the words, like it remained deep inside his chest, not coming out despite how many times he tried to search for it.

Kuramoch’s chest hurt. It was different, but similar, with Sawamura. When he was told Sawamura Eijun was going to remain comatose for God knows how long - and that the recovery line was thin - he couldn’t breathe. And now, knowing that Ryousuke has severe amnesia - that Ryousuke might not ever get his memories back, that their years at Seidou flushed away in an instant - it was too much. Their promise to go to the same university - to go to the same pro league - although silent, was very much prominent - with Kuramochi constantly pining after the other - Desperate to hold onto Ryousuke and never let him go - Kuramochi couldn’t see. He couldn’t his vision had gotten so blurred, and his nose stung, and before long he too was crying. Hot tears, that scorched his cheeks all the way down, dripping off his chin. And, much like a coward, he ran. He ditched the room, letting his cheetah like speed carry him off. He ran through the hospital halls, tears flying from his face, but he didn’t care - even as a nurse shouted slow down - he hadn’t yeileded. His legs desperately carrying him - he didn’t know where -

That’s how he ended up seated in the lobby again, with his and Miyuki’s things. He had along so many stairs, until finally, he sat, face cupped in his hands. He was shaking - and he didn’t want to know, he didn’t want to know what would happen when Sawamura woke - would Sawamura forget the time the two of them spent together too, in that dorm room, playing games - would Sawamura forget the hard work he put forth to be ace - and what about Furuya? Kuramochi hadn’t even seen Furuya, he had no idea what that situation would be like. Would Furuya be dead, or worse, vegetable in state? And Katoka - their prized coach - would he be a shell of a human, much like Kominato Ryousuke?

There were so many question, crowded, jammed, inside Kuramochi’s head, and he just sat. Everything in the emergency room lobby suddenly got so silent, that the ticking of the clock overhead was all he could hear.

It was 7:35 pm…

Chapter Text

Kazuya too, soon, found himself back in the lobby room, next to Kuramochi. Kuramochi hadn’t moved, just remained cupping his face. Kazuya himself, had his eyes glued to the ceiling overhead. The faint sounds of sirens was all he could focus on to keep himself glued into reality. It was actually Kuramochi who had broken the silence, after what felt like hours of this heavy, dread feeling in their chests -

“R… Ryou… suke.” He said, no louder than a whisper, and Kazuya knit his eyebrows together. Ryousuke?

“Ryousuke is… well, he has…” Kuramochi left out a huff, moving his hand from his face - and Kazuya was stunned. Kuramochi had red, puffy eyes, bloodshot from how hard he was crying - “He’s forgotten everything. ” Kuramochi whispered, faintly, and Kazuya felt the weight of the other’s words - the true, heavyweight - Ryousuke has forgotten them? Kazuya didn’t have the energy to muster up a reaction other than a bitter look towards the ceiling again. He had a lot of resentment in that moment, for the entire situation, to the world, for how unfair everything was. He wanted to be blissfully unaware, back in the catcher’s position - he wanted to be there, he wanted to be there more than anything - a position where you have near perfect control of the entire field - where you can dictate what the pitcher’s will throw, where you can decide where the ball goes once it’s firmly seated in your mitt - Kazuya slips his glasses off, and sets them, folded, onto the table. His vision blurred slightly. Mostly the lights, but he casts his gaze back to the ceiling. The once hyperfixation on the little cracks and dots of the ceilings became nothing but a blurry, white and grey mixture.

“Baseball doesn’t wait.” Kazuya, whispered, and Kuramochi slumped in his seat. Like he hadn’t even realized what their out of commission state meant, fully. It meant that Ryousuke, Eijun, and Satoru were rapidly falling behind. Soon, their muscle memory would fade, and they wouldn’t belong on the baseball field anymore. The game would keep going, the world would keep rolling, and Kazuya would have to play baseball without the fire of the mound, without the overly excited YOSH YOSH YOSH that Sawamura so excitedly chanted. It would all, all of it, fade into the works of time - and then they would become another bitter memory Kazuya would hate to his core. He’d remove any trace of them, he would play baseball dully - just like he had when his mother had disappeared into the inner workings of death - the human body really was, a fragile thing.

---

They’d moved the Furuya to the recovery wing, where he was now granted visitors - no matter if they were family or not. Lying idle, in the recovery bed, he stared at the curtains surrounding him. He hadn’t been granted a window view, he instead was granted a sandwiched position between two other hospital beds, but his grandfather had drawn the curtains before leaving. He’d left Furuya flowers, flowers from his hometown, and they reminded Furuya of the ball that would slip through his fingers - Tomakomai, Hokkaido, so cold in its existence, has hardened Furuya. He pursed his lips. Partial loss of his pitching hand, that what was he was given, in exchange for his life. He couldn’t feel it, nor could he move it all that well - recovery was possible, the doctor told him - that he should feel lucky it wasn’t something harder to fix, something he could remember, for that matter. He supposes that was true. His hand was wrapped so carefully, and so was his now broken ankle - he had a few minor cuts and bruises along his face which had carefully placed bandaids stretched over them. He was, for lack of a better word, hurt.

Miyuki-senpai and Kuramochi-senpai soon drifted in, both of their faces seemed absolutely drained, but upon arrival, they seemed to lighten up real fast. What had gotten them so bent? Were they worried?

“There he is, our unscathed residential polar bear.” Kuramochi jabbed, taking a seat in a chair. “Man, this place is crowded.” He whistled, but his voice was raspy, and it hadn’t held the same punch it normally had. Kazuya was silent, taking a seat as well. His eyes widened though, as he launched his fingers out, grasping at Furuya’s right hand, gently overlooking it. Kuramochi saw it too, and dreaded what Furuya was going to say.

“I can pitch.” Furuya said, and although it wasn’t exactly the truth, it wasn’t a lie. He stunned the other two, into silence, because it was what was familiar for them. Furuya had said something familiar, had done something familiar. No more out of character actions, such as Ryousuke’s dull eyes - or Sawamura’s oddly calm room, full of solemn energy where he lay unmoving.

“I can pitch.” Furuya repeated. “I’m Seidou’s Ace. I can pitch.”

Kazuya grinned, from ear to ear. Maybe it was simple minded of the catcher, for once, to be so blissfully unaware - he spoke, excitedly -

“When?”

Furuya pursed his lips, a sigh slipping through his nose, in a tuft of air. He could pitch, he would pitch, but he couldn’t now. Not now, his hand… it wouldn’t move no matter how much he willed it, no matter how hard he tried - and he knew he had to tell them - so he did.

“It heals. When it heals.” Furuya made a motion with his left, to his right. “I lost partial movement… but, Miyuki-senpai - I can, and will pitch again. I just have to recover. I will not lose to Sawamura.” Furuya whispered, the last part, determination blistering in his eyes. Moron’s don’t get injured, meaning Sawmaura Eijun would probably be pitching to the net right now, complaining about the lack of competition. Furuya would not lose to his riva-  

“You haven’t seen him, have you?” Kuramochi bitterly spoke, as if Sawamura was suddenly some cursed name, a bad omen that shouldn’t be uttered - and something about that felt so out of place. Kuramochi always spoke fondly of Sawamura - so had Miyuki, but the two of them, in this bright lit hospital, suddenly seemed so cold. Colder than life, and Miyuki’s hands that had been cradling the injured hand of Furuya’s, let go. A million thoughts raced through Furuya’s head in that instant - but all of them stopped when Kazuya decided to speak, to ease Furuya’s anxious confusion -

“He’s comatose.” Kazuya whispered, voice catching in his throat, and even though he didn’t need to, he kept going. He kept talking. “He’s… It’s truly strange to see that bright eyed moron unmoving, haha, finally… some peace and quiet!” Kazuya sighed out over dramatic, as if a sudden weight had been lifted off his chest. Kuramochi, however, did not take well to this light tone of voice Kazuya was using, and launched out of his seat. He jammed his hands into the hoodie of that bitter catcher, and slammed him against the hospital wall by Furuya’s bed. Furuya sat, unmoving, still taking in the information that had been provided - so lightly.

“Is this a joke to you?!” Kuramochi growled out, hands tightening so much so his knuckles were turning white. Kazuya had wrapped his own hands around Kuramochi’s wrists, digging his nails in dangerously harsh. Kazuya was smiling though, despite it all, a smile had plastered itself on his face.

“Youichi, don’t make a scene here.” Kazuya whispered, despite grinning, something gloomy was in his eyes - and it made his voice seem threatening, despite the light tone he’d used. Kuramochi pushed Kazuya harder into the wall.

“You have got to be KIDDING me!” Kuramochi let him go, in that instant, and Kazuya let himself slide to the ground with a thump, a look of distaste forming over his face. Like a gloomy, sluggish cloud that drags itself over the sky. “I would understand you saying something like that if Sawamura was sick, or everything was fine, but when we don’t even know if he is going to wake up, it’s not fair! Sawamura Eijun would never, never, say something so cold hearted like that! Do him some justice, will ya?! Always so caught up in… in whatever this stoic act you have going on is - it’s…” Kuramochi paused, waving his hands around messily, trying to find the words he was looking for to describe Kazuya’s attitude -

“It’s childish.” Furuya provided for Kuramochi, reminding the two upperclassmen that Furuya was indeed, still here. Kazuya tsked under his breath, looking away, bringing a finger to push up on his glasses, and Kuramochi had ceased all sporadic movement. He shoved his hands into his pockets, huffing slightly. It was childish, it really was.

Kazuya hoisted himself off of the ground after a minute, patted Furuya’s head, and showed himself out. Disappearing out of the recovery room, leaving only Furuya and Kuramochi. The two existed in an awkward bout of silence, no one quite willing to break it. Kuramochi was pouting, and Furuya didn’t quite know what face to make - so he just made the face he was used to. But the news was finally settling in, Sawamura Eijun was comatose. Part of him, deep down, felt bitter about that news, that his biggest rival had suddenly… given up. That’s how it felt, like Sawamura Eijun, the boy who spoke only of the mound and baseball, only of how he would get Miyuki-senpai to be his catcher, had seemingly given up. The old clock on the wall ticked, and Furuya couldn’t help but glower now - at his hospital blankets. As though they’d personally attacked him, offended him.

The clock read: 8.06 pm.

Chapter Text

It’d been a week or so, since that accident, and Furuya had finally been discharged from his hospitalization. After they’d monitored him for the duration of his stay, they elected him healthy enough to rejoin society. Though his hand, wrapped up, would not move no matter what. He pressed his fingers against his injured palm gingerly, pursing his lips. He wanted to pitch, he wanted to further his lead as far as possible before Sawamura woke up. If Sawamura woke up, he’d have the chance to become ace, to snatch it right from under Furuya. Furuya was not going to let this happen, but alas, he couldn’t even open a car door. His grandfather had drove him back to Seidou, and their conversation was limited to a few nods and the occasional: it’ll be okay. You’re strong. Yes grandfather I want to stay at Seidou.

Throughout that long week, Kuramochi dropped by occasionally, and so did Kazuya. Though Kazuya had considerable eye bags under his eyes, and his posture was definitely slacking. Haruichi stopped by a couple times as well, when the pinkette wasn’t enthralled with his brother - Furuya had learned that Ryousuke had amnesia. The news was bitter, and Furuya couldn’t help but feel confused by the whole thing. How had he been so healthy when everyone else had to endure the blunt of the crash, still suffering so far forward. Ochiai was the acting coach of Seidou for the time being, until Kataoka was released. Kataoka had a fractured neck, and was currently in recovery from that. A bit of internal bleeding as well, Furuya had learned.

All eyes were on the second string, eagerly seeing what Ochiai could pluck up - what he could turn into beautiful stars. Ochiai was bitter about Furuya’s accident, Furuya wasn’t stupid - he knew the bitter old fool always preferred his pitching, that Furuya was always going to be Ochiai’s supposed star player - which was okay, it definitely wasn’t bad for Furuya, but it was right now. He couldn’t pitch the way he was, which meant that Ochiai would demand gym work - working on his core, running laps, everything to help Furuya get back on track. Miyuki Kazuya was there too, catching for the second string.

Upon seeing the newly returned ace, Kazuya walked on over, lifting a hand in from of greeting - which Furuya offered a small nod of acknowledgement to.

“There’s our ace, it’s good to see a familiar figure. Jun will be back soon too which will be good for the team, we’ll slowly but surely get this all sorted. How’s your hand, can you pitch?” Kazuya asked, and for the first time ever he seemed so eager, so impatient - it was unlike him, his stoic personality usually refusing to show any excitement. Furuya, against all judgement, nodded.

“I can pitch.” He said, determination bubbling in his cold eyes, and Kazuya had a grin from ear to ear.

“C’mon then, come pitch for me in the dugout.”

And so the two went, Furuya trailing behind Kazuya, unsure of what mess he’d just gotten himself in. His hand was still bandaged, and still refused to move, and something about that created an overwhelming frustration, deep inside his chest. What was he going to do about this - how was he going to keep the ace title so close to his heart when his hand didn’t even move how he wanted?

Standing on the makeshift mound, and across from him was Kazuya, Furuya found himself staring at the ball in his mitt. His right fingers unmoving, no matter how hard he’d willed them they didn’t budge. Like his limbs had become foreign, no longer under his control, and Kazuya shouted something along the lines of any day now!

I can pitch.

Furuya thought to himself, but alas, as he did his windup, leg rising into the air and slamming into the earthy ground below - the ball thumped, just next to his foot, rolling forward at a sluggish pace. Furuya hadn't been able to take the ball from the mitt, and his hand had remained unmoving, uselessly beside him. Kazuya got up from his crouching position, hesitant to walk over.

“Hand.” Was all Kazuya had said, and Furuya wasn’t one to fight back against Miyuki, so he extended his hand. “Can you move it?” Furuya shook his head, no, he couldn’t.

Kazuya let out a sigh, offering a light pat on the shoulder, before moving away.

“We’ll try every day until you can, okay Furuya? One pitch a day, you have one pitch a day. Until then, just do whatever the coaches tell you, you should keep it light for now.” Kazuya rambled, Furuya couldn’t help but feel relieved, even if he was just staring at Kazuya’s back.

Kazuya hadn’t given up on him.

——

The Kominato brothers arrived a week after Furuya had, and they seemed oddly close. Closer than ever before, the occasional laugh and smile filtering over Ryousuke’s face. Haruichi too, wore a soft smile but their relationship was different. Haruichi was showing Ryousuke various baseball tactics, how to bat, what the roles of baseball were, and Ryousuke listened intently. Soaking up all the new, interesting information being excitedly offered.

Kuramochi felt bitter inside.

Ever since his fight with Kazuya, he hadn’t been able to really relax, and although he should be happy that Ryou was back, he couldn’t help but think that, that boy wasn’t his Ryousuke. Ryousuke was much bolder, brighter, than this stranger. He’d learned from Haruichi that Ryousuke begged his parents to come to Seidou, that he needed to know what it was that he did. Kuramochi, part of him, was hoping Ryousuke would suddenly remember everything and that they could play baseball together again. Unfortunately, the world is rather bitter and cold.

“You were in the hospital that day.” Ryousuke said, softly, as he helped pick up some of the balls from batting practice. Ryousuke seemed shocked at how well the ball fit in his palm, and he’d rolled it around a bit. Kuramochi scoffed.

“Yeah.” Kuramochi said a bit more bitter than he’d anticipated, he dropped the balls he’d gathered into the bin, before repeating the cycle. He wanted this to be over as fast as possible, it hurt too much to be next to Ryousuke currently. The former second baseman was careful in his menstruations, plucking the balls off the ground before delivering them into the pin. It wasn’t long until there were not balls in sight, and the two of them stood in this sort of awkward silence.

“Haruichi said the two of us made up the Keystone Combo. What is that?” Ryousuke finally spoke up, curiosity lacing his voice. Kuramochi never though, in a million years that he’d have to explain this to Ryousuke, the man so knowing, so understanding of how the world of baseball worked.

“The two players who play nearest to second base, a lotta the time they combine on double plays.” Kuramochi grumbled, and Ryousuke looked even more lost than informed.

“Double plays?” He asked and he suddenly seemed like a much younger Haruichi, like a grade schooler. He still had bandages secured around his forehead, a daunting reminder of the accident.

“Two outs made in the same- ugh, just go rent a baseball book from the library. I need to practice my swing, and you’re not helping at all. If you don’t know how to play baseball, than you should just go home…!” Kuramochi growled, walking away with his shoulders hunched as tears burned at his face. It wasn’t long before they started to drip from his eyes, gushing like leaky faucets. He hated this entire situation, more than anyone would ever know, and the knots he felt in his chest were painful. Three players were already back, and the only one able to play baseball didn’t even know the fundamentals of it.

It was unfair!

——-

Kazuya found himself sluggishly dragging himself into the car, Rei was driving him to the hospital to visit Sawamura. Kazuya had changed, washed up, and was ready - he was steeled this time. The hospital had become all too familiar, once again, and as the catcher shifted through the halls of the hospital, visitor badge secured around his neck, he found himself swallowing away at the lump in his throat.

Sawamura’s room was dark, and the boy laid unmoving, same as he had the first time Kazuya saw him.

“Yo, Bakamura, you look comfortable.” Kazuya chucked, plopping down next to the comatose boy. Rei had opted to give them two their space, or, more just like give Kazuya room to openly express himself. Kazuya couldn’t help his fingers, the way they’d gingerly moved to brush hair out of Eijun’s tanned face, dragging the tips along his cheek, stopping at the breathing mask. This breathing mask made Eijun look sick. To make matters worse, Eijun was already losing a majority of his weight. His cheekbones sinking into his face, his arms shrinking. The hospital gown had become big on the boy, the boy that could only survive on an oxygen tank and feeding tubes.

“Man, you’re going to puke all over again when they make you eat all that rice.” Kazuya cackled. “8 more weeks and your leg cast comes off, that’s exciting isn’t it? You better wake up before then or I won’t catch your pitches.”

Eijun didn’t even stir, so blissfully unaware of the situation everyone was in around him.

“Most of your cuts have healed… you…” Kazuya stopped talking, the heart monitor ringing in his ears. Loud. Why was he even talking? It wasn’t like Sawamura could hear him. Talking didn’t make a difference, when Kazuya tried to talk to his mother, she still died. It’s not like words can break someone out of a coma, no matter how desperate you get.

Miyuki Kazuya kicked himself, mentally, he swore he’d never get attached to another person so strongly. It was easy, until this golden eyed moron showed up, so full of life, so easily working his way into the hearts of Seidou. Nothing could have warned Kazuya for this, horrid, fate. Kazuya found himself grasping onto Sawamura’s left hand, preserved somehow, and he cried. He cried against the soft, tanned skin of the pitcher.

The clock ticked.

10:03 pm.

And Kazuya had croaked; voice so pathetic and small sounding in that instant, so weak.

“If you’re in there, Sawamura, please… no, Eijun, please… wake up already. ”

The comatose boy did not move, and Kazuya sobbed harder.

Chapter Text

“Oh Miyuki, it’s good to see you again.” Said one of the nurse’s, her eyes were bright, but yet they held a subtle sympathy. A quiet sorrow, and she gently pressed her palm against his shoulder. He hadn’t bothered learning any of their names, despite coming here so often, so he just offered a curt nod. She walked passed him, greeting an elderly person, leaving Kazuya to it. His feet carried him, on auto pilot, and upon staring at the heavy, wooden door, he let out a sigh - of relief.

“Hey, Sawamoron.” How long had it been, he found himself pondering. Sawamura’s health was deteriorating, and occasionally tears would slip from his eyes - not Kazuya’s, but the comatose boy. The nurses said it was a bad sign, which was weird because he was expressing emotion right? Shouldn’t that mean there is more hope? Shouldn’t that mean he’s in there?

“Mm.” Kazuya hummed, lying his head down on the hospital bed, staring idly at the painfully blue wall. “Seidou needs an ace, Eijun. It’s been… haha, it’s been months. Furuya can only move the tips of his fingers - y’know, like some creepy witch or something. So, Sawamura, you mind telling me a secret?” Kazuya pursed his lips, the bittersweet return of silence to the room - knowing that there would be no retort or comment from the boy made his heart sink.

“How do I wake you up?”

----

“No! You hold the ball like this - like this. AGH! That’s all wrong!” Kuramochi found himself seething in annoyance, snatching the ball from the confused pinkette. Ryousuke was covered in a thin layer of sweat, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and being unable to perform exactly how the other wanted him to. Kuramochi had adjusted the white ball in his fingers, practically thrusting it into Ryou’s face.

“Like THIS, see?!” He said exasperated when Ryousuke looked even more confused before. He chucked the ball into the ground, and it bounced up before bouncing along the dirt field, rolling away from the two of them.

“I-”

“Don’t.” Kuramochi interrupted, training his eyes off in the distance, where a silhouette of a person could be seen running along the horizon - and Kuramochi nearly got hopeful it was Sawamura, but it wasn’t. It was Furuya, who despite everything, kept running - attempting to perfect his stamina. But Kuramochi saw it, saw the frustration in those cold eyes, the way he gripped at his wrist alone in the training room, digging his nails in - begging his stone hand to move.

And then there was this one, the pinkette next to him who hardly remembered his own name, let alone how to throw a ball. Kuramochi dragged a hand down his face, pulling his bottom eyelids down with his fingers. What would Sawamura do? This had become a question he found himself often asking - asking himself. What would the perfectly capable Sawamura do should the two of them swap places?

“You’ll get there.” Kuramochi finally muttered, and the way a firework peaks in the sky, bursting out joyous colors; Ryousuke’s face lit up like a thousand of those. The words lingered on his breath, floating about in the air, heavy in a way - heavy in a way neither of the two could explain, and even though Rysouke had to relearn everything, this felt familiar. The frustration that Kuramochi was holding - and without thinking, his whole body moved.

He placed a gentle, yet firm, hand on Kuramochi’s shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

“You look scary.” Was all Kuramochi could breathe out, body tense at the way those fierce eyes peered into his soul - it was all too similar to the way Ryousuke used to look, like suddenly the shell had possessed life for the first time -

“Do I now…?” Ryousuke inquired, with just the slight tilt of his head, and Kuramochi’s breath hitched. It caught in the very back of his throat and all he was able to do was let out a squeak, gulping down whatever else had been caught in his mouth along with it -

Kuramochi hadn’t controlled his body for the rest of that instant, his fingers brushing Ryou’s off of his shoulder, hand grabbing the other’s chin, bringing Ryou dangerously close - close to his mouth, lips near brushing but not quite, and there was a fire in his eyes.

“Don’t do this to me, please.” Kuramochi rasped, begged, eyes wavering with some kind of fear - some kind of unnamed emotion. “You promised me forever, so what is this?! What the HELL is this?!” Kuramochi whisper yelled, harshly moving his hand away from the pinkette’s jaw, and moving to press his forehead into the other’s shoulder.

Ryousuke brought a hand up, hesitantly, running his fingers at the back of the shortstop’s scalp. Something the two of them had done multiple times before.

“I’m sorry.” Was all Ryou could manage, and he wasn’t sure himself why he had tears forming in his eyes, or why his heart was heavy. Why he felt a sudden anger - directed at himself - or why they started gushing down his cheeks. He didn’t quite have enough in him to push the other off, so they stood there, bathed by the setting sun, while Kuramochi hicked and cried into his shoulder, and Ryou openly cried, staring at the sun dispersing.

They didn’t talk about it afterwards.

It was like it hadn’t happened, the two of them walking a safe distance away from one another, neither willing to look at the other - and Kuramochi had his shoulders hunched in a sort of pouty way, while Ryousuke had his drawn back, standing taller than he had in awhile. The following day at practice, the two were near completely silent, maybe for the short nod or quip. They had a new energy to them - and it hadn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of the cast.

It was like blooming flowers, Haruichi thought. He leaned against the fence as suddenly, a familiar and bright fire had seem to spark from Ryousuke - he was trying now, really trying to learn the sport. Much like when they were kids, similar to that winter evening when Ryou beat up those assholes - and then some. When Ryou frustratedly fought to go to his current school - how hard he had to fight to stay, and how much he didn’t even know what for.

“RIGHT!” Ryousuke suddenly yelled, he was ablaze. The whole practice session had a whole new energy, a whole new shattering effect - and it was after practice, when Miyuki commented on it.

“Ain’t that something. It’s almost like he’s back.” Kazuya said, and the elder couldn’t help the smirk that had started to bloom on his lips - the excitement that bubbled in his chocolate eyes. Haruichi couldn’t help it - he found himself smiling boldly as well.

----

Furuya had been excited, honestly, to hear about the return of Ryousuke. He had been excited to watch him and Kuramochi, the way they owned the field together. It gave him a whole new sense of excitement. But, even though the field was abandoned, and his will reestablished, the ball rolled from his fingertips, something he couldn’t quite grasp - why. Why couldn’t he move his hand?! There he sat, knelt on the dirt floor, grasping at his wrist, tears gushing from his eyes as he demanded an answer. Silently. This frustration was similar to when he was outcast for playing on the snow covered field, for when his ball was far too fierce for anyone other than Miyuki-senpai to catch.

He tried, over and over, but the ball continued to roll from his fingers. He screamed, finally, letting out all that bottled up anger. Anger at Sawamura for not being awake, anger at Ryou for forgetting all their years, anger at Haruichi for being too nice, anger at Miyuki for not eliciting the right response from his hand - anger at himself for letting his hand get so injured - and most of all, a raw sense of embarrassment at being so fragile. It was like he was a glass vase, and finally, the cracks had started to spread, all over - and he no longer could keep himself together.

So there he sat, knees digging into the mound, the late night hue painting everything a sort of deep, dark blue color. The cry scraping out of his mouth, and it had actually drawn a small crowd. Kazuya found himself leaning against the shed, lips drawn in a straight line, the rest of his face unreadable. Haruichi found himself hesitating to drop the last bat into the equipment wrack. Kuramochi found himself barely able to walk another step, legs unmoving. It was the most emotion the three of them had ever heard Furuya express, in all his time at Seidou. So there they stood, frozen in time, as if the world had undergone another ice age - all from the shattered heart of Furuya.

----

It was crazy, how fast the world could trail past, even after something like this could happen. Where even though their world had been completely shattered, time still ticked on, classes still remained, and then some.

However, this time, on the baseball field, Ryousuke collapsed. His body buckled, and his vision had gone completely black - fizzling from him, just as he had started to get a grasp on the sport, as his amnesia seemed to become less and less, as he started to remember everything he had given up for baseball -

He fell.

With their ears ringing, everyone stood in a near perfect freeze. The sirens that wailed that day, sprout forth a whole new anxiety - and Furuya felt it in his hand too, a sudden pain so bad he actually cried out, fingers grasping at his wrist as though it had been caught ablaze.

The hospital took the two of them together - and simultaneously, Kazuya got a phone call.

Chapter Text

The world of Sawamura Eijun, bright and fiery, consisting of oranges and golds. That’s how others saw it, but in reality, a deep seeded root of something else had begun to blossom - self doubt. It hadn’t even blossomed in him before, he’d always been quick to disprove his theory - thinking he was the best, he had to be the best, but watching as the number one got farther and farther away - maybe he wasn't the best. That’s how it started, a sort of corruption that ached at his heart, eating away at his bitter and heavy chest - and even now, trapped in a wired up body - the number was sprinting away from him. It wasn’t like the coma protected him from the outside world, not as well as they’d depicted it would in movies - and he didn’t exactly have the ability or the strength to move or do much else other than listen. Miyuki visited him the most, even more than his own family, though he’d probably never admit. He always asked heavy questions, when he was sure no one could possibly answer him.

When Miyuki had asked how he could wake him up, Eijun was at a loss. It wasn’t like he knew, because he didn’t, but to see that stoic “asshole” express something other than an overwhelming amount of confidence and mischievousness - rendered a new sort of feeling in his chest, one that resembled heartbreak. He couldn’t open his eyes, but he could see, it was strange. He could see when Miyuki came in - and he could feel the excitement - and he could feel the dread when the catcher would shortly leave.

And finally, he begged - begged with all his might, to please wake up - even if it’s just for an hour, to please wake up.

And it happened, he jostled upright, wires and cords plugged into him - and everything was so bright, and he squirmed, voice muffled around the breathing tube that had been shoved in his face - and nurses came running in, excitement in their eyes - and doctors seemed to act as though this were some kind of miracle.

“Who should we tell first?” Asked a rather excited nurse, eyes gleaming - and Sawamura Eijun thought of his family, and he knew that they had each other and they’d survive without being the first to know so he spoke -

“Miyuki Kazuya.” And his voice sounded so hoarse - rough with lack of use, and his limbs much skinnier than he remembered, he couldn’t even move them - he felt like an alien in his own body.

And after the first fifteen minutes, the sensation began - something akin to dread bubbling in his chest but growing - and soon he could feel the exhaustion as his strength - what was left of it, was wisped away. And his eyes burned like they were on fire, and it took all he had, though he could feel it throughout his body - his time was up.

It was only another twenty - maybe twenty five minutes, before Miyuki showed up, desperately pulling open the door as though it held no real weight, and Eijun had never seen someone show so much emotion. The way those chocolate eyes seemed to swirl with something - excitement? Desperation? And Miyuki sprung forth, bringing his admittedly warm hands out, wrapping his long fingers around Eijun’s hand and -

“Miyuki… Kazuya…” Eijun snarked, but without the actual “snark.” His voice sounded heavy, laced with exhaustion, and he did his best to fight it off but as it overcame him like a cloud, he found denying it any further to be impossible. “...Sorry....” Was all he could croak, and he managed to catch a glimpse of utter horror - and then he fell back out. Hand going limp, and he’d thumped back against the pillows.

----

Furuya had never been in so much pain, even during or after the accident, his hand never hurt like this. It ached and pulsed, seemingly as though it were being electrocuted and it took all he had to keep the tears at bay. But before long, the sheer overwhelming pain pulled forth the tears, and the doctors had to give him a minimum dosage of morphine. He’d road with the unconscious Ryousuke, and hadn’t really done much other than hiss and gasp. Ryou had looked similar to Sawamura, looking absolutely peaceful - asleep.

Finally after ride, and they’d been admitted into the hospital for their checks, the searing pain had ceased maybe… five minutes after? And Ryousuke had suddenly started to shift out of his unconscious coma like state, a groan escaping his lips - but here was the catch.

“Furuya? Where are we?” He asked, raising a hand to his head. “I remember… The car… the game…” A new life seemed to spring forth in him, or rather instead of a new life an old one. “Is everyone okay?” He asked, but he masked his genuine care well, and Furuya managed to supply a nod.

“Amnesia.” Was all Furuya had to say for Ryousuke to understand, bringing a gentle hand to the bandages atop his head, before letting out what sounded more like a curious hum.

“I see.” He spoke, softly, before letting out a grin. “Well, if I have my memories back that’s a good thing. I don’t remember anything after the accident though…” And he hesitated - “Wait, how long have I had amnesia?”

“Uhm… near two months… maybe?” Furuya was bad at time, and couldn’t quite exactly remember how long it had been - between his overwhelming desire and need to pitch, and the stress from not even being able to move his fingers, it made sense that he had little time to spare for how much had gone by since the accident. And Ryousuke looked distraught by this, pursing his lips and furrowing his eyebrows.

The doctors came back with nothing, not surprising, but after running their hands against Furuya’s injured one, a shock came to the old man’s face. His grip was firm, but gentle simultaneously, and he offered a gentle stroke against Furuya’s fingers. He cleared his throat, reeling back slightly, and he looked happy - happy to finally be able to deliver some kind of good news.

“You can pitch again.” Was what he said, before continuing, “move your hand - or try to, Furuya-kun.”

Furuya felt his eyes widen, he could curl them - not all the way, but he could actually move them - and he looked at the old man with a sudden overwhelming joy bubbling in his chest -

“I can pitch.” He said, not as a question, but as a demand, and the old man looked happy too, for the boy.

“You can, miraculously the tendon in your hand felt reconnected, I’ve never seen anything like this before - and you, Kominato-san, to suddenly have your memories return…” He shook his head. “I’m at a loss for words.”

But it was at the back of their minds.

“Sawamura?” Furuya and Ryousuke found themselves asking at the same time, and the doctor looked taken aback, before shyly scratching at the back of his head.

“There was a rumor floating about that he woke up, he did… but…” The man pressed his lips into a rather firm line, sighing as he removed his glasses to pinch at the bridge of his nose. “He fell back in. We’ve never seen anything like this.”

Furuya wasn’t sure why, why he suddenly felt an unfair amount of rage bubbling in his chest, wasn’t sure why his fist clenched, why he suddenly felt angry - how could they be getting better while Sawamura was struggling so much?

I’m going to take number one from you, Furuya!!!!

And truthfully, Furuya had always been eager to see a team lead by an Ace - by an Ace of the name Sawamura Eijun, who always shown the brightest, who always threw the ball the weirdest, who always had such a fierce passion for the sport - one never forgotten.

“Can I see him?” Furuya whispered, much different to how he was feeling deep inside, and the Doctor let out a sigh, raising his shoulders in a half hearted shrug.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t glance for a moment, come on then - er… Kominato-san, we don’t know much about your level of injury, but seeing as it’s head related…” He trailed off.

“Mm, I know.” Was Ryousuke’s calm, yet bitter response. And he watched the two leave the room, and he felt his eyes trail to the ceiling above. How much time had he wasted here, dealing with this bitter condition? How much time had he wasted, trying to regain his memories - how much farther would he be from Koshien now? His body felt the same though, he felt fit - a little bit more tired than normal, but he felt physically fine. He wanted to apologize, first and foremost, to Kuramochi Youichi - the poor guy was probably an angry, delinquent mess right now. The thought made him chuckle slightly, and he wasn’t sure why, but tiny tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and made their way down his cheeks.  

Why was he here, again?

---

Pushing open the door, and being blinded by… darkness. Furuya felt his eyes widen, Miyuki Kazuya was sobbing. Hands desperately holding Sawamura’s, with his face pressed into the crook of the burnette’s neck, but Sawamura’s eyes were glued shut. Body limp on the hospital bed, and Miyuki didn’t seem intent on letting go - not now, and not ever.

“Please…” Miyuki begged, muffled by the golden eyed boy’s skin. Furuya brought his lips into a straight line, averting his eyes, this moment felt private. It wasn’t fair for him to peer in on this - not now, and not ever. The doctor had offered a curt nod, and slipped away, leaving the three boys to it.

---

“Despite waking up one week ago, he’s showing increasingly worse results.”

“He looks even paler than he has initially.”

“He cries more in his sleep.”

“Are you sure you can afford to keep him on life support any longer?”

“There are no results, nothing solid anyway.”

“We should move him to a facility more capable to care for him.”

“He’s wasting a room right now.”

“What will you do, Sawamura-san?”

Chapter Text

Kazuya had stopped going to baseball practice, instead he spent that time elsewhere - the hospital. Seated aside the pitcher, he talked about nothing and everything, talking about how his favorite holiday was white chocolate day, strange because he’s who he is, but it was. He told Sawamura why - because his mom would always stay up late helping Kazuya make chocolate for his dad, and they’d give it to him together - he pretended to be surprised. Or how is favorite day was Thursday, because Friday was the next day. Or how he loved catching because he loved seeing the selfish pitchers come to life on the mound, how their spirit seemed to grow stronger.

“And also, I think I owe you a bit of a confession.” He muttered, hands gingerly sweeping some of Sawamura’s hair from his gentle face, and he grinned. “That day in the dugout, when you got real close, I wasn’t listening to a word you were saying.” Kazuya felt his cheeks, felt how they burned with embarrassment. “I was thinking about how much I wanted to kiss you.”

He felt his whole face get tomato red now, at recalling that memory, of how Sawamura dug his hands into the collar of his shirt and shook him back and forth vigorously, angry about something or another.

—-

“MIYUKI KAZUYA!” Oh great. Kazuya felt himself look up from his spot, eyebrows raised as he smirked at the approaching hostile. Sawamura Eijun, and their cheeks were flushed after a hard day of practice, Kazuya was just making sure no one left anything behind, but if it belonged to either Kuramochi or Sawamura, he might just leave it.

“Oh? Is that anyway to talk to your upperclassmen, Sa-wa-mu-ra?” Kazuya cooed, tilting his head to the side as he brought his lips in a half face smirk, and Sawamura bristled.

“Catch my pitches!” He shouted, way too loud in the close area they were in now, resulting in a slight echo that made Kazuya’s ears ring.

“Too loud…!” Kazuya whispered, grasping onto his right ear as though it were fatally injured. But before long, the catcher felt himself being reeled forward by hit shirt collar as Sawamura shook him around like a Christmas present.

“CATCH MY PITCHES WHEN WE GET BACK! I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO PITCH TODAY!” The pitcher shouted, eyebrows drawn together, his cheeks puffed out in a pout.

“Catchers’ need breaks too, y’know.” Came Kazuya’s rather lax response, but he wasn’t paying attention to whatever nonsense the pitcher was spewing. His eyes were glued to those light pink lips, how pretty they were, how bright those golden eyes were - he felt like he was being scorched. He wanted to kiss him, then and there, maybe just to make him quiet, maybe to satisfy a deep rooted desire that they’d end up together…

Kazuya started laughing instead. And just like that, Eijun bristled and released him, leaving him behind in the dugout to laugh.

—-

Kazuya gulped, eyes now slowly trailing along the comatose boy - his body really, really told him he shouldn’t - and his brain. But his heart was hammering inside his chest, and as he leaned in, his thumb stroking along the bottom lip of the pitcher -

Clatter.

He reeled himself back, hard enough that his chair fell over and he wound up on the floor, cheeks flushed. His lips drawn in a straight line - and he didn’t know what to do, in that instant - he’d almost kissed Sawamura Eijun! What is wrong with him? He could feel his heart stammering into his ribs, and he could feel his cheeks tinged with embarrassment and affection, and he could feel the burn in his eyes as tears gushed from them - why?

Why couldn’t Sawamura just be okay?

Chapter Text

Tokyo does not get a lot of snow, it’s trademark for having the weather be mostly warm - hot on a summer day - although on the occasion there might be the light rainfall. Never nothing too bad, but today, today was different. The Seidou fields were piled with snow, and a frosty air blew against Kazuya’s face as he looked out upon the great piles of white. Even now, his thoughts were consumed with that boy - Sawamura would love this, wouldn’t he? Kazuya could almost hear the younger give an offended gasp, before playing in it - later being soaked, and also grumpy that they couldn’t play baseball on these fields because of how much snow there was. He’d still demand that Kazuya catch his pitches, paying no mind to the water soaked into his clothes. That’s what Sawamura would do, in a situation like this.

But Kazuya is not Sawamura, so he heads back inside his dorm to pull one of his thicker coats off the hanger. It’s puffy, not fashionable in the slightest, and hard to move in. But it’s warm, and it protects him against the frozen peck of the wind. He also pulls on these tan gloves, looking as though they were covered in grains - and he starts to work. Shoveling snow off the mound first, before doing his best to clear the bases. He starts forming a path from base to base, the white plate blending in with the snow easily - easier than he’d think, and he felt the sting in his arms more than once when he accidentally struck the plate instead of the soft, powdery snow.

The sun started to rise, and the dorms had sprung to life. Kazuya was already tired, and his arms felt heavy, not to mention the sweat that he’d worked up despite the early hours of the day. He abandoned his work though, leaving maybe - a spot or two with heavy snow, to go back into his room and change out of his coat. Most people like to be appreciated for their work, or at least have their efforts noticed. Kazuya did not want to be appreciated, and he did not want anyone to notice the hard work he’d poured into something so trivial.

Ryousuke had just remembered everything, and forgotten it again. It was gradual this time, like the unwinding of an old grandfather clock. The way Ryousuke remembered, and then forgot. He played well at the start, but as the game progressed, he started to forget more and more. The hospital had said he was fine to leave, but as memories started fleeing, he wound up going back. They were going to hold him overnight, they said, they were going to analyze what exactly was happening. The craziest thing though, was Furuya. He could pitch, he pitched at the same power, if not stronger, and the sound the ball made when it hit his mit was refreshing. But just as Ryousuke started losing his memories, Furuya started losing control of his hand, his pitches becoming more and more wilder and harder to muster, while his hand started to tense up and become painful for him. Kazuya made him ice his shoulder, before he too was taken back to the hospital for another examination.

“It’s weird, ain’t it?” Kuramochi asked, leaning beside Kazuya against the fence, looking out over the overcast sky and the mounds of snow.

“Hm?” Kazuya hummed in response, not bothering to look at the green haired short stop, who had simply let out a cackle. Kuramochi was probably the one most affected by Ryousuke, or the lack thereof. The two were inseparable, especially on the field, and Kazuya thought back to how he near kissed the comatose Sawamura, and how he’d reeled backward as though he’d been caught ablaze.

“How everything seems to fall apart, without that damned brat.” Kuramochi muttered, into his scarf as he buried his nose and mouth into it. Miniature breath clouds could be seen when he breathed out, rolling about before dispersing in the air they’d just come from.

Kazuya didn’t have it in him to respond, and opted to simply blow hot air onto his tingling and numb fingers. He should have wore his gloves out here, that was rather silly of him, he supposed. Kazuya knew what he wanted to say, he wanted to say that the longing for the pitcher was consuming him - that it was hard to wake up without hearing that annoying laugh or seeing that bite in his eyes when the catcher picked at him too much.

It was a strange phenomenon, having Sawamura wake up and suddenly everyone’s problems were fixed, and then as soon as he fell back out - they forgot everything. Kazuya knew it, Kuramochi knew it too, the pitcher didn’t have long before they’d pull the plug on him. Seidou was helping to pay for the out of commission boy, but if he didn’t start showing results there was no reason to keep him on life support. It sucked Kazuya had to think so logically all the time, but he was right.

This was further confirmed by a phone call, three days later.

---

Most of the first string had gathered into the tiny hospital room, and it had made movement quite cramped. Some people were crying, others didn’t want to admit they’d felt anything for the pitcher. They wanted to remain unfeeling, oblivious to the ache that bubbled in their chests. Some, the crying ones, such as Haruichi and Kuramochi, could not fathom anything but the pain they were feeling. The way they refused to look at him, the way they looked when they finally decided to look at them.

Kazuya was a rare breed, someone who couldn’t really express anything in front of all these people, and he stood there, a shit smirk on his face as he stared at the comatose boy. Things between him and Kuramochi had been rough, especially the past few months - but ever since that snowy afternoon, the two of them had almost been the same again - shooting jabs making snarky remarks. There was a slight heaviness to it, and even though Kazuya knew it was wrong to be smirking he couldn’t hide it.

Kuramochi saw and the anger resumed, just as it had last time, and just like that, their rocky few months returned. It started with Kuramochi lunging forward akin to the cheetah Sawamura constantly compared him to. The shortstop slammed Kazuya against the wall, anger in his eyes as he complained about how calm Kazuya had seen - and as the shortstop rose his fist to meet contact - it didn’t ever land. It wasn’t because Kuramochi couldn’t bring himself to, it was because Furuya had intervened. With his other hand, but his grip was still strong enough to keep Kuramochi from knocking the lights out of the catcher - though knowing him, he could take a hit or two.

“Kuramochi-senpai, I think Miyuki-senpai cares the most out of any of us here.” A lot of words for their little quiet polar bear, and the chatter of the room had ceased, drowned out by them. “Miyuki cares a lot, especially when they’re alone.”

Kazuya could feel the heat, the heat rise to his cheeks and cause them to tingle sort of painfully, he could feel the tingly heat rise to the tips of his ears too, and he averted his eyes to avoid any sort of eye contact - he couldn’t take that yet, not now not ever. How much had Furuya seen? Had he seen when he near kissed Sawamura? Probably, it’s not like he did it at a good time and -

“I know he does…!” Kuramochi growled out, angrily, and the tears that had previously been gushing down the short stop’s cheeks had returned. He was an angry crier, especially as he had his nails dug into the shirt collar of Kazuya. “But HE doesn’t!”

Everyone as if on cue, turned their eyes to the pitcher knocked out, ever so oblivious to the world around him.

Kazuya thought back to how he trailed his thumb along the pitcher’s bottom lip, and how he’d longed for those golden eyes to peer into his own with such an overwhelming sensation it gnawed at his heart.

If only someone had told him, back in the dugout, that he’d never have that chance again - never be able to feel the heat of that pitcher. Maybe then he’d done something differently, maybe then he’d confess it all - open, for all to hear, anyone.

But no one would tell him, not now and not before, so he pursed his lips and looked away from the short stop, drowning his feelings once more.

Chapter Text

No one had expected it, being nestled in a quiet room with the wafting of incense and dim lights, no ne had expected it. Miracles are far and few between, but it seems like there is the hint of tragedy tucked away behind every corner, with long fangs and talons, anticipating when it can pounce on its unsuspecting victim and sink its teeth in - draining the life out of them in the form of short lived happiness. Or just maybe, Kazuya was being more dramatic than he really needed to be. The occasional sniffle, confused eyes, hunched shoulders - and the gaping hole that this one brought.

He was a boy of few words, Kazuya mentally noted. He barely said anything, and when he did, they were light - but he had determination, despite his world being frosted over - despite how hard his life had been up until this point… Kazuya was silently grateful.

He hadn’t had it in him to cry yet, he didn’t feel his body self destruct in a fully body shiver, and he didn’t feel the burn of stinging tears as they bubbles to the corners of his eyes, begging to gush down. It did not happen, instead he sat in the front row alongside the rest of the first string and kept his eyes glued on the shabby looking carbet.

Seidou had lost their esteemed ace.

It had been a weird turn of events, it felt like the miracle where he could suddenly move his hand was a teaser of unfortunate events - like spooning a child sweet honey before it turned out to be poisonous and the child winds up choking on it. Furuya had died, strangely enough, of a blood clot. Deep vein thrombosis, when a blood clot forms deep beneath the skin's surface, it can run the risk of traveling to your heart - and that’s what it did to Furuya Satoru. Ryousuke hadn’t been very affected by this, seeing as his memories were rapidly disappearing - losing another he had just remembered - and for Sawamura Eijun? Lying comatose, unstable, and the risk that he’d stop breathing went up and up -

And somehow the two of them were still alive, but not the boy with the “lucky injury.” Kazuya wasn’t sure how he felt, how Sawamura would feel when he woke up, or how Ryousuke would feel if he ever regained the memories they all shared - together on the field.

Time felt especially sluggish now, and Kazuya moved more as a robot, and found himself pouring all his time into baseball and his studies. He couldn’t stand sleeping, and his diet consisted more and more of coffee and obscene amounts of rice and bread - and he kept playing. He kept willing his body to move, forcing it to move tired limbs that felt akin to metal plates - less part of him. And eventually he overworked himself, crashing like an airplane with no pilot.

Kazuya was stunned when he peeled open his eyes in an overly bright hospital, the way that the bright lights overhead seemingly blinded him, how everything blurred without the constant adjust his glasses provided - and he simply drew his lips into a thin line and lay there as an IV pumped continuous vitamins and minerals into him, necessities for the human body to keep functioning. How interesting, how interestingly weak the human body was - fragile like a fine glass plate, and if you weren’t careful, how quickly you could lose your glass bodily cage. Kazuya’s lips felt dry, and his skin had turned an ugly grey. He exhaled though, in that instant, a dreamless sleep. He’d finally been able to close his eyes, and see a blankness he hadn’t had in a while. He hardly dreamed as a kid, and in current time, most of his dreams were polluted with a silent truth to them - like losing his mother, or Sawamura Eijun disappearing into the fabrics of memories in time, tugged up and derooted like a fragile flower.

It wasn’t long before he was discharged, no one came to visit - if they had, they left long before he managed to wake, and he was prescribed pills. Sleep aids. Temazepam (Restoril), maximum dosage at 30mg. He stared at the white bottle against his palm, and yeah, he’d researched these before one lonely night when he was hauled up in his dorm room alone - the side effects didn't seem worth ingesting something like this, but alas, here he was with a doctor's order and “happy little pills.” So he popped one in his mouth that night, and laid down. Not in his dorm, but in his room, and he fell into an endless haze.

Seidou first string students (including second string) had been dismissed for a month - meaning an entire month, the students would spend at home - to get the necessary rest they needed. (Mostly thanks to Kazuya overworking himself, and the mysteriously unexpected death of Furuya Satoru). It became too much at some point for the seemingly famous catcher, and eventually, he found himself wanting to disappear too. To be unraveled much like Furuya, to forever sleep like Sawamura, or even forget everything like Ryousuke.

“When we get back, Miyuki-senpai, catch ten of my pitches!”

So… When will you be back, Sawamura Eijun?

---

Rain plastered itself against the windows, fogging them up, and the blur of the city lights was all Kazuya could make out, and he found himself (zombie like) staring at his desk, a piece of parchment paper and an ordinary number 2 pencil plastered in front of him, unmoving, highlighted by a bright desk lamp. He wanted to bake something, and although he hated sweets, he also hated sitting by idle. So, he opened the drawer to the left, and removed a black bound notebook - small in its form, and began scribbling down ingredients before sluggishly and robotically taking himself to the kitchen.

And he baked.

Way too much.

Cakes - cookies - everything and anything in the book, and by the end of his baking boner rampage, he was left with kitchen tops and counters over stuffed - and that hadn’t included his many journeys to the store, feeling the water soak through his coats and shirts and shoes and hats - didn’t include the fogging of his glasses, how he had to constantly wipe them, or the fact his phone had died long ago - didn’t include the strange looks he got from the clerk who checked him out once again, (for the tenth time that evening). Didn’t include his forgetfulness to take his pill, and finally, there he sat in the kitchen, seven AM, when his father drunkenly stumbled through the heavy metal apartment door, smelling of alcoholic residue - and his narrowed his eyes as he drunkenly sung out his name -

“Kaaazzuuuu… ya?” His father groaned, barely able to stand upright and keep his eyes more than half open, and the air hit his nose like a sucker punch.

“Dad.” Was all he confirmed, voice tense, and he drug a hand down his face. “You need help getting into bed?”

The man shook his head, and instead slouched down at the one person seater “dining” table. It had frosted sugar cookies, neatly baked to perfection, accompanied by chocolate, vanilla, and even strawberry cupcakes - there was even a tiny cherry cake, and his dad hesitantly reached forward and removed one of the sugar cookies. It was still warm, and the orange frosting seemed to glow as he sunk his teeth into the sugary treat. Delighted, the old man closed his eyes as he slowly chewed.

“S...S’goo, Kazu-chan.” He hummed. “Where… Where d’ya get’cha mon.. money fo all this… bahaaa….?” He hummed, cheeks flushed bright red along with his ears, and his own glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose.

“Seidou gave us a weekly allowance, and I hadn’t really spent any of it - aside from coffee here and there… And maybe some new shoes but…” He trailed off, not needing to include the rest, how he’d really spent it on buying a fuck load of coffee every day, how somehow the cheap price of coffee didn’t quite use up all his yen, how he had enough for college tuition saved up - how after all that and overspending on batter and frosting and cake and - all of this - he still had some left over. Enough for one baseball mitt, or one baseball bat depending on the store he went to.

His dad provided a solemn hum, before sinking his teeth in for another sugar induced bite.

---

Kazuya wasn’t sure when the tradition had begun, but eventually he started showing up to the hospital, baring with him sugary treats for the comatose southpaw. He delivered and left them aside the bed stand in which Sawamura lay, eyes drawn closed, looking more and more frail each day - and one day, when the room seemed extra dark, when the day seemed extra long and gloomy… He overheard a little… “rumor.” And in that instant, everything didn’t seem to make sense, the passing of Furuya Satoru, the memories that faded within the flicker of headlights, all the way to the closely protected left hand of Sawamura Eijun, or the fact that his time was running along thin ice, skating against fragile water that threatened to crack open and swallow the boy whole at any given time and -

“They might pull the plug… Poor boys….” Whispered the head nurse, Kiyoko Mei. She was a pretty lady, long locks of brown hair that fell to her waist, and on the occasion was done up in a messy bun. She had nicely colored auburn eyes, and humbling smile - and Kazuya often found himself wondering how Sawamura would look grown up, what his wife would look like, what his kids would look like, and Kazuya found himself wanting to be there for all of those little moments. He wanted to see Sawamura try his sweets for the first time, wanted to see the brunette finally smile again with those overly pearly white teeth… He wanted to see golden fire spring to life in colorful eyes flecked with dust from the stars themselves - he just… Wanted to see it, not one more time, and not for the last time, but every day for the rest of his life.

And they wanted to pull the plug and take that all away from him.

Kazuya was stubborn, and well known for his cool headed nature and polite charms, but there were none, not this time. As the Sawamura family bounded in, eyes low and downcast, as doctors hesitatingly walked slowly behind them…

He thrust himself to his knees, slamming his skull against the hard tile floor - much harder than he should have and he could already feel the pulsating pain that throbbed against the front of his head. The room smelt oddly of sweet oranges - with underlying hints of blueberry from the cupcakes and cookies the boy had loyally delivered. His voice came out, wavering, raw, rawer than anyone had ever heard Miyuki Kazuya -

“Please…” He begged. “Please don’t… Not yet…”

A choice was presented to the parents, who were losing money rapidly, who found themselves taken in by the sincerity of the boy and yet…

And yet.

There was no answer given, just an overly gentle embrace from Sawamura’s mother, and she smelled like hints of tangerines and the slight, yet bitter smell, of red wine. She soothingly ran her fingers along Kazuya’s spine, before giving him a tight squeeze. Kazuya felt his eyes widen, as something wet slid along his forehead - her tears.

“Thank you.” She choked. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for our idiot of a son… thank you, Miyuki Kazuya, for being here - even now, you poor, poor child.” She croaked, still running her hands against his back, and in this instant - bare before this woman, he didn’t know if he was the one soothing her or if she was the one soothing him.

Chapter Text

Kazuya soon found out that it didn’t matter who was soothing who, all that mattered was the mother like embrace he was experiencing and the power he was given to be able to cry for once. The way the hot tears splashed against the inner side of his glasses, and how he sniffled and choked and how his voice wavered much like the oceans of the beach splashing and changing ever so rapidly. He’d already lost so much, he didn’t want to lose anything more, and he found himself tugging on her clothes, found himself about to beg once more. But her eyes were so dulled, so tired, so exhausted. He could feel the weight of this woman all on his shoulders crashing down all at once like a gigantic wave. The father with that silly hair of his couldn’t look, his eyes glued to the floor next to the toppled pair, crying on the floor within each other. 

But he’d already lost far too much to give up. 

----

“Catch… ten… pitches…” 

Blurry. Wet. Warm. Cold. Lonely. 

Sawamura felt sticky eyes open in the absence of reality, cornered in the middle of nowhere, isolated. It felt like he was heavy, stuck up - perhaps chained up? Against something warm and plush. He felt cold however, and the area around him was white and fluffy like snow. He wondered where he was, within time itself? He wasn’t sure, nor did he know. He found himself managing to shuffle to his feet, he could hear voices, they sounded familiar and so, so sad, antagonized. As he shuffled forward, he found himself wiping snow off of a window as if it were second nature, and when he peered inside, he found himself staring directly at his own mom, holding a shaking and frail Miyuki Kazuya, and if it wasn’t for those damned glasses he would be nearly unrecognizable. Eijun did what made the most sense, he attempted to pry the window open, but as though it had been frozen shut he could not get in. Where was he anyway? Was this a dream? 

As he turned his head, he felt his eyes widen as headlights came into view. 

---

“Fu… Furuya, are you alright?” Eijun rasped, his breathing felt tight and his vision felt as though it were rapidly moving, it almost felt like everything was shaking despite being still, he felt vomit piling into his throat as well, but he choked it down, and moved a soft, sad hand to push gently into the forehead of Furuya Satoru, who was unconscious. Everyone around him was unconscious. Ryousuke seemed to be gravely injured, his head had red spilling from it, and his eyes were open despite looking so dull and devoid of life. Everyone around him seemed lifeless. Eijun didn’t know what to do, or what he could do, and so he closed his eyes and said a prayer. A soft one that would barely manage to pass his lips, and it was a prayer full of heart, fear, remorse, a million other emotions all at once that plagued the air, alone in the form of frosty breath. 

“I don’t care if I never wake up, just protect everyone else.” 

He swore, in that moment, he heard the ticking of a clock. 

---

Eijun balled up his fists, realizing he’d allowed himself to become snowed in. He realized the weight of the world, as multiple bubbles around him appeared of people coming and going into this dreary hospital room of his, and then he heard the word. Furuya Satoru didn’t make it. 

“So… Despite all this…” He found himself rasping, the stinging of hot tears spilling out before he can even choke them all back. “You still took them!” He yelled upwards, towards the grey sky, darkened by his own remorse and regret. Despite all he fought for, it was for nothing, ripped from him for no reason. 

---

“Eijun…” Sawamura’s father gasped, and even the doctor gasped, and Kazuya found himself rapidly standing up, only to feel his eyes widen. Sawamura had fat tears rolling from the corners of his eyes, and he had his arms outstretched upward, towards the sky as if reaching for anything, anything that he could grasp on, and it was second nature for Kazuya to rush forward and grab one of those cold and small hands. 

And unknown to Kazuya, Sawamura would feel that grasp from his catcher, gentle and firm within its existence as if he was pleading for the southpaw to return as fast as possible. As if traversing through an unknown world, Sawamura would do his best to stumble back into reality. 

---

The world in which Eijun was stumbling through was a strange, empty version of his world. Bits and pieces missing, assumably from what he could not remember, and every step he took would kick up smokey clouds of white. There were baseballs littered about, yet stuck within the snow, frozen, he did not try to remove them, simply continued to advance through this strange world that seemed to float somewhere within space and his mind. There were fragments of buildings floating all around him in a pure white relm. Cars were floating upside down, houses halved, roads and parts of the earth far extended into the sky, Eijun found himself adventuring along a cracked and “decayed” road, slightly frosted over with patches of white. He kept walking admiring the world in which his brain had come up with, so deluded and strange. Finally, after what felt like many eternities crumpled together, he found himself pausing within what he assumed was the middle of his world. The middle of his mental escapade, sat a large clock that had been frozen within time, bits of frost and ice clinging to it. He hesitantly walked up towards it, and gently found his fingers softly brushing the surface of the clock, the one that kept him suspended within his current point of existence, not moving forward nor backwards. He found himself filled with a special type of sadness, reserved only for his loved ones and his family and the first string of seidou. He knew now, how much suffering they endured to remain just a little stronger, to just get through another hard day. 

He could see it, an old memory of their first victory together, dirt smudged faces covered with vibrancy and life like grind and expressions as they clung to their victory with pride. He could see it, the suffering that hadn’t touched them yet, he felt himself beginning to cry. 

“What do you want me to do?!” He yelled at the clock, still in animation nevertheless, as big round tears gushed from his face. “Why bring me here with no instructions!” He yelled, aggressively grabbing at the clock to the best of his ability as if he wanted to shake life back into it. Nothing happened, and it remained still and lifeless. “I ALREADY MISSED OUT ON SO MUCH!! THEY NEEDED ME TO BE THERE FOR THEM! I NEED TO BE THERE FOR THEM! PLEASE!!!” He cried out into his frosted world. 

“I want to be there with them, suffering and all!” 

And as fate would have it, the clock did not move, and Eijun found himself crumpling to his knees, more tears gushing from his eyes as he sobbed, and sobbed. The world he knew was rapidly advancing, and he couldn’t come near it, his reality was frozen, stagnant within his own universe. When he opened his eyes once more, he found his own hands becoming blue with 

He found himself shuffling to his feet, he threw away his life to save no one, and now he’d have to find it again. Was that it? 

Upon thinking that, a blue door appeared within the clock that hadn’t previously been there before, the clock truly intended for him to travel back, didn’t it? Back to that day… 

And as he pulled open the door his own words smacked him in the face. 

“When we get back, Miyuki-senpai, catch ten of my pitches!”  

A light then blinded him afterwards, whatever journey he was about to embark on, it would be a long one. Frost, and his face acquiring bits of white to it as well. Was he freezing over? Would he disappear forever if he froze over here? 

Chapter Text

“Thank you!” The first string of Seidou shouted at the ground, their eyes shut. The team across from the would respond the same way, although they had looks of sorrow and regret plastered to them. Eijun felt his heart hammering in his chest. 

Like a warning of something to come. 

“Hey, Miyuki.” Eijun asked, timid for once. No precious fire that was only reserved for Eijun showing through. 

“Hm?” Kazuya hummed, in his hands was his sports bag, he had his sports glasses pushed up into his hair. “What is it?” 

Eijun pursed his lips, remembering back to that day when Kazuya pushed his index finger along the southpaw’s bottom lip, how Kazuya had leaned in, daring for a kiss before reeling back. Eijun had thought of Furuya, how the boy couldn’t move his fingers - how later he’d cease to breathe, being stolen by the tides of death. Eijun thought to Ryousuke, how his memories would come and go, wavering back and forth. 

How none of those things had come to pass. 

Not yet. 

“If I told you that Ryousuke-senpai would lose his memories, and Furuya would be unable to pitch, and then later die, would you believe me?” Eijun looked up from his hands, he was messing with his thumb a bit. But the look on Kazuya’s face would shock Eijun. Kazuya was shocked, genuinely confused - 

“BAHAHA! I’m kidding obviously, idiot Miyuki.” Eijun overcompensated in that moment, laughing a little too loud, pointing an overly dramatic finger at the catcher. The catcher blinked once, then twice. 

“What do you mean?” Kazuya tilted his head slightly to the right. 

Had… had Kazuya believed him? 

“Do you believe me?” Eijun asked, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted in a small “o” shape. 

“Well, idiots like you are incapable of lying.” Kazuya said, setting down his sports bag. “So what now about Furuya and Ryosuke?” 

In order to help the others around him, Eijun realized he'd have to sacrifice a lot. 

He told Kazuya everything, everything he could possibly think of. Kazuya listened, seated in the dugout, and before long Rei came over to them. 

“The bus is here you two, Miyuki-kun did you want to stay and watch the game after? Although it looks like it might get rained out.” And just as Eijun had said, Rei said every word verbatim. Kazuya looked up towards the cloudy sky, he heard a bit of thunder in the distance. 

There’s going to be a terrible accident. I want your help preventing it from happening. 

“Ah, that’s okay, I feel a bit under the weather. Maybe I didn’t drink enough water, I also think the others were tired too. Thank you, if you do stay will you record it for us?” Kazuya was in good standing with Rei, and the other faculty since he was a prodigy catcher - and usually right about his teammates, Rei trusted him. She responded with a if you’re sure before trailing to the bleachers, camera in hand. She also had a score sheet tucked beneath her arm. 

“I want to slash the tires.” Eijun said, in reference to the bus. “That way it can’t drive.” 

“That’s illegal and you could get kicked out of school.” Kazuya found himself narrowing his eyebrows, this was ridiculous. Why was he even going along with this? For all he knew, Eijun was full of it. But he remembered then, golden eyes seeming so distant - so scared so hurt, they appeared to be at a different place, petrified of a potential outcome too dubious to explain. 

And yet Eijun had explained it. 

I wish I had kissed you then. 

Kazuya felt heat rushing to his face, eyes glancing to the plump lips of Sawamura Eijun. God, what was he thinking. 

But he couldn’t help himself. For some reason, an image flashed in his head. Eijun wrapped up in bandages, thin and pale - ghostly. Carefully placed like a fragile artifact on a hospital bed with the ominous beeping of a heart monitor in the background. With the lights off, and a vase of wilting flowers - gloomy and sorrowful - and that’s all it took then. To motivate Kazuya to reach a hand out to the southpaw’s shoulder, he had no idea what he was doing - he’d never even kissed anyone before. He pulled Eijun back by the shoulder so the other would be looking at him, and Kazuya felt the heat rush to his cheeks - accompanied by the summer beating down on the two of them with a vengeance. 

Kazuya pressed his lips to Eijun’s, there in the dugout tucked away from prying eyes. Eijun kissed back, softly, slightly hesitant. 

But he kissed back. 

—-

“But when you make a deal with the devil, and you transverse backwards, you must be willing to make a sacrifice in which is even value for rewriting the past. What will be your exchange?”

A creature in which Eijun has never seen before inquired, its voice was soft but it sounded as if multiple of it were talking at once. It was nothing more than a shadowy silhouette with red gleaming eyes. On its forehead is a clock, ticking loudly as its individual hands inched forward. In its hands it held a strange chromatic seeming orb, in which Eijun appeared to be asleep in a hospital bed. 

An equal exchange, huh? 

Eijun thought about plenty of things, what would be something he would value equally? Suspended here, in this pit, he was sure time was irrelevant. He couldn’t feel his body, he couldn’t feel any physical pain. He was suspended in an entirely black room? He wasn’t sure, it was more like an abyss to be honest. Eijun had no clue, what would be an equal exchange… 

Eijun felt his lips tug into a bittersweet smile. 

“I’ll trade half my lifespan.” 

“Oh?” It asked, humming softly as it tilted its head. “Well originally, in your destiny you’re fated to only exist for… 17 years.” 

Eijun understood, he was supposed to remain comatose and unmoving, and eventually they’d pull the plug on him… right?

“Meaning you would have to die at the age of 8.” The demon concluded, though it smiled an evil grin with sharp teeth. “How about I adjust it slightly? I’ll allow you to live one more day after the day of the accident, after that, how would you like to die?” 

“How would I… like to die?”

----

“Sawamura… I don’t know if this is a smart idea…” Kazuya grumbled, being pulled along by an all too eager southpaw spouting nothing but nonsense. Did Kazuya really actually think their way of life was actually threatened? Well, maybe. He isn’t sure he himself believes, but he believes in Sawamura so… He allows himself to be pulled along without making too much of a fuss, finally they arrive at the bus. Eijun looks around on the ground for something he can use to pop the tires of said bus, and Kazuya isn’t sure he really wants to end up stranded at the baseball field with Eijun AND Kuramochi. That sounds like an emotionally exhausting time… Although, being stranded with Eijun- Kazuya slaps himself right then and there, in front of Eijun who casts a confused look at the elder. Kazuya has to swallow down his embarrassment from such a thought, before clearing his throat. 

“Just use my cleats.” Kazuya unzips his sports bag that he has slung over his shoulder, pulling out one of his shoes and handing it over to Eijun. Eijun then proceeds to repeatedly stab the back right tire five times with said cleat, until the tire lets out a prominent ppppffffffff noise as air hisses out of it. Eijun then proceeds to do it to the rest of the tires as quickly as he can, while Kazuya stands lookout. Once Eijun is done stabbing the tires, the two of them do their best to blend in with the rest of first string and act completely oblivious to why all the tires on their school bus are hissing out air. 

Kazuya looks over at Eijun then, and notices a strange look that doesn’t belong on the said southpaw’s face. His lips are pursed and he looks almost longingly, sorrowful maybe. Kazuya isn’t sure. 

“It’s over.” Eijun whispers under his breath, and when Kazuya presses him, Eijun just laughs it off, seeming overly happy. What is he hiding? 

Kazuya knows it's familiar, that feeling of trying to bite everything down and keep it to yourself. But who knows, Kazuya just knows he can’t wait to go home and shower. 

---

The next day is overcast, it’ll probably rain. Kazuya lifts a hand up as though he were reaching for the sky, something seems off. Morning practice starts off how it always starts off, Eijun shakes Kazuya about like a ragdoll demanding he catch more of his pitches despite them needing to head to class, in which the elder shuts him down. 

“Only if you grovel on your knees.” Kazuya snickers, and Eijun pouts, before obliging and Kazuya almost keels early, grabbing at the younger's shirt and forcing him to remain standing. 

“I was kidding, gee, what if someone saw that?!” Kazuya can feel the heat rushing to his face, and Eijun just innocently tilts his head in childlike confusion and it takes everything Kazuya has to not die on the spot. 

Kazuya throughout the day, can’t help but keep an eye on his favorite pitcher. He seems oddly distant, and yet… ready? Kazuya can’t quite pinpoint it, but it vaguely reminds him of his mother back when she was in the hospital, long black hair covering her face, and yet her lips half turned in a smile as she reached for his hand. She held it gently, with motherly care, and pushed a couple strands of hair from Kazuya’s face. She smiled then, her eyes holding such tender care. 

“Just know, Kazu, mother will always love you.” 

---

“How would I… like to die?” 

Eijun finds comfort on the bench by the vending machine, finding the humming of it comforting. Kazuya isn’t long behind before he too joins the southpaw at said vending machine, although Kazuya presses in a couple yen and buys himself a coffee, but not without considering his younger companion. He pushes a few extra yen in and buys Eijun his favorite drink - mango-tacular.  

“I’ll never understand how you drink this stuff.” Kazuya states, before handing it over to which the southpaw takes it and glares.

“Says you, drinking literal DIRT.” 

“Yeah sure.” 

The two of them then remain in silence, Kazuya sipping at his coffee slowly while Eijun chugs down his mango flavored beverage. The two of them remain like statues, highlighted only by the flickering old light above them. It makes a humming noise slightly softer than the vending machine. 

“Kazuya, catch my pitches.” Eijun says, softly, drink still lingering just a few inches from his lips. The catcher is taken aback by the casual usage of his first name, but decides not to press it any further. 

“Sure, Eijun.” Eijun’s first name feels foreign on his tongue, like he shouldn’t be saying it or its something forbidden, and yet he still does. The two of them stand up off the bench, and start making their way towards the garage. It's where they practice, when the field is all cleaned up. Kazuya doesn’t brother suiting up, just grabs one of the spare catching mitts in the room and sits in front of the net, while Eijun wheels over the bin carrying all the baseballs. Eijun grabs one, feeling its weight in his fingertips. He knew this would happen, regardless. 

They all made it home when one of the other schools had spare room in their bus and offered to drop them off at Seidou since it was on the way, and of course Rei graciously accepted their kind offer. Eijun wonders if maybe he’d get to pitch that game, if maybe he’d have made it to ace had everything just been okay. Had they not gotten into that accident. But since this is the last time he’ll be pitching to Kazuya, he decides to make it count. 

Kazuya himself is impressed. He’s never seen such fire from the boy before, each pitch he throws is strong, like meteorites, and he might even be having a hard time catching them. Eijun has a strange fire like life in his eyes as each pitch spins past his finger tips. It’s almost like he’s glowing in the dark, and Kazuya can’t help but think to himself as he throws one of the balls back, still warm from Eijun’s hands, how pretty the boy is. 

“I want to die how I lived.”

“I want to die playing baseball.” 

----

Kazuya himself still isn’t too sure what happened to Eijun then, seated here at a funeral with way too many people sobbing their eyes out. He isn’t sure how Eijun was pitching perfect pitches one second, then collapsing on his knees coughing out crimson blood. Kazuya is still taken aback mainly by what he was saying. 

“So it’s time.” He muttered as he pulled back his hand, covered in red, and Kazuya has never ran faster he’s sure. Sprinting to the aid of the younger. 

“Kazuya… I…” Eijun stammered, attempting to form correct sentences despite the blood that he seemingly couldn’t quit coughing up. Kazuya had his phone tucked into his pocket, so it was only second nature that he would pull it up, and call an ambulance as fast as his fingers would allow him to. 

“I love you.” 

Kazuya didn’t have a chance to say it back, now that he thinks about it. 

They were still investigating the cause of death, even questioned Kazuya, but the catcher had zero answers, and when pressed couldn’t help but feel useless. How did this happen, right in front of him? 

I lost Sawamura again.

Again? What a weird thought...But Kazuya still, could not believe it. As the southpaw’s family sobbed up front, as the entire Seidou baseball team sobbed, as Kazuya allowed himself the sorrow to cry and cry, he realized then just how much he needed the other. Was this really it? Was this really okay? He was so tired and angry of losing people, what would it take to change this? 

Tick… 

Tick… 

Tick… 

The whole funeral seemed to pause, suspended in time. 

“Would you like to go back and change your fates?”

Chapter Text

Kazuya stares at it, the devil with an estranged grin. It was holding the picture of Sawamura in its hands, eyes gleaming with something evil - something Kazuya couldn’t make out. It cast its glance to Kazuya then, as if it was awaiting an answer. 

“Change… our fates?” The catcher inquired, bewildered. The demon set the picture face down, before reaching for its forehead. There was a clock there, and it actually stuck it’s finger through it, as though it had no mass at all, and it pulled forth a bright orange orb that swirled with emotion. It took it, and as Kazuya blinked, the demon was now thrusting it forth into the catcher’s eye- 

Bright. 

“If I make this deal, everyone will be safe right?” Eijun’s voice spoke, and this caused Kazuya’s eyes to flip open as fast he could. Eijun was sitting down on an ice covered ground, his eyebrows furrowed. The demon in front of him was unmoving, like a rock. It stared at the southpaw, as if waiting for more. 

“I cannot guarantee they won’t come into mix with tragedy themselves, I only agreed to allow you to fix this one time.” 

Eijun seemed to realize what this meant, and his face tensed. 

“What… is this?” Kazuya whispered, eyes widening. 

As he blinked again, the image of a strange “memory” like place he’d found himself faded out of existence and he was in a hospital room. Eijun was in one of the beds, eyes closed. There was a breathing mask on his face, as well as various cords and the like attached to him, the humming of machinery and the beeping of the heart monitor all created an eerily creepy room. 

“Saw… Sawamura?” Kazuya begged, reaching ginger fingers forward to touch soft pale skin - pale? 

Eijun’s eyes flipped open, and he turned his head to look Kazuya in the face. His eyes were devoid of all life and emotion, seeming dulled. His actions and movements were choppy, much like a puppet. 

“It hurts.” Eijun muttered, tears swelling in his eyes, they overflowed and rained down his cheeks. Eijun slowly sat up, hands lifting. 

“It hurts.” 

Kazuya was at a loss of words, stunned into silence as he watched the younger boy move as if he were attached to strings - 

“Save me.” Eijun seemed to plead, shaky hands reaching forward, they grabbed onto Kazuya, pulling him closer despite Kazuya trying to resist he couldn’t. He was getting sucked in- 

Thump. Thump. 

“Ugh, Kuramochi, did you see where I put my sweats?” Eijun asked, as the boys shuffled into the bus. 

“Why would I know where an idiot keeps his stuff?” Kuramochi grumbled, plopping down at one of the vacant bus seats towards the back. This elicited a scowl from Eijun as Eijun too filed suit. 

“It looks like it’s going to rain.” Eijun commented off handed. 

Rei soon after the students had boarded clambered on, a clipboard in her hands. 

“Would anyone like to stay and watch the game?” 

Kuramochi raised his hand without much thought, as did Haruichi. The two stood up, and followed Rei off, Chris soon after would follow suit, he’d have his sports bag on his shoulder as he made sure to catch up with the three of them, and they disappeared back into the stadium. 

Eijun was too tired to get up, he just wanted to go home and shower, and maybe throw some pitches at the net. He wasn’t sure yet. But he felt pretty alive, he had the best pitching game yet! 

SCREECH- 

Ah. 

The clouds were grey, dark grey, and Eijun could feel the water splatter against his face. 

Blink. 

Kazuya found himself surveying the scene as though he were suspended in time. Blood was pooling from under Eijun’s head, and mouth, his eyes seemingly… dead. 

Sirens. 

They blurred cautiously, and before long paramedics were pressing fingers to Eijun’s neck. 

“Alive!” One shouted, before they lifted him away on a stretcher. 

Kazuya gulped as his eyes remained glued on the pool of blood where Eijun had been lying. 

Blink. 

Tick… 

Tick…

Tick…

Kazuya found himself witnessing his own body move and act on its own. He looked a mess, hair disheveled, eyebags, General tiredness. 

Why was he seeing this? 

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

“I just want to protect everyone.” Eijun stated, he was standing with his hand pressed against his chest. They were back in the black abyss. 

“Even if it costs you everything?” The demon pressed, it did not have any facial expression. Just the same, bright red eyes. 

“I will protect everyone.” Eijun confirmed, a sorrowful look filling his face. “No matter what.” 

Tick…

Tick…

Tick… 

Kazuya was shocked to find himself back at the funeral, he had more questions than answers now, and as he looked around for the demon he didn’t see it. That and time was moving again, people were shuffling around, some could be heard sniffling, others could be heard sobbing. 

Kazuya felt himself clench his teeth and fists as hard as he could. 

Bakamura, how could you take all that on yourself?! 

—-

The devil would revisit Kazuya in class a whole month later, the classroom would be suspended in time, unmoving. The demon would open the sliding door, step in, before closing said door behind itself. It found comfort in plopping down on a random students desk. 

“Have you decided?” The demon asked, it’s head tilting in a daunting yet inviting way. 

“...Decided?” Kazuya felt confused, decided what? What was this demon playing at? All Kazuya knew was he couldn’t trust it. 

“Don’t you want to change your fates?” 

Their fates… 

I want to protect everyone. 

I love you. 

The pencil in Kazuya’s hand snapped. 

“You took him didn’t you? Why can’t you just bring him back? Huh? Bring him back!” Kazuya demanded, lifting his gaze to the demon’s in a bold declaration. 

“Oh? But the boy made his choice. I took what would’ve been the rest of his altered life span.” The demon said it so innocently, that one might assume it wasn’t talking about someone’s life just then. 

“Life… span?” 

“Well, I made a trade to send the boy back to stop his and his fellow teammates’ demise. Truly a nice kid, really.” The demon grinned, wide. “With this much, I can almost finish creating the rest of my body. I grow stronger through these deals you know.” 

The catcher unsure in how to respond, just looked away once more. Sawamura traded the rest of his life to save everyone, didn't he? Why? Why couldn’t Kazuya be of use. 

“So? So?! Change your fate!” The demon chided, slipping on over to Kazuya, it’s hands pressing eagerly down into the boy’s desk. “Change it! Change it!” 

It hurts. 

Save me. 

Kazuya knit his brows together. 

Change their fates? 

“What’s the price of changing our fate then?” 

The demon grinned. 

What was lost, can never, ever, come back. 

“What will you trade?” 

—-

“Sawa…-mura?” Kazuya whispered, eyes wide as none other than Eijun approached him. 

“Miyuki-senpai?” The younger inquired, curious as to why Kazuya was acting so strangely. 

“What’s the date?” Kazuya asked. Eijun raised a brow. 

“What are you talking about? It's been two days since our game at the stadium, we won remember? Although for some reason our bus broke down, you stayed to watch the game, didn't you?” Eijun was confused now, the boy pushed in a couple yen and selected fruit blast from the vending machine. The can could be heard being tossed down. 

“...Yeah.” Kazuya frowned. He ran his thumb against his palm then. “Yeah I guess.” 

What will you trade?

I want to protect everyone!

I will protect everyone! 

Golden eyes swollen with tears sliding down puffy red cheeks, chapped lips and obvious dehydration apparent - fingers reaching to wipe away wetness. 

I want to save them! I will save them! I don’t want them to hurt anymore! I want them to be happy! 

I don’t want to be all alone anymore!

Child. 

A child. 

Brown hair, eager eyes. 

I don’t want to have to hold back for anyone anymore. 

I want to be able to pitch like a pro. 

I want to meet THE Miyuki Kazuya! 

I’m going to Seidou! 

I will be the ace! My dreams will come true! 

Kazuya sighed. 

“Sawamura, are you… lonely?” He had a hard time asking this, it almost felt too personal - too serious to ask a question like this, especially at the vending machine. 

“Huh?” Eijun seemed taken back. “Lonely? No. Why would I be? If anything I’m too swarmed here. I have to share a room with the DEVIL cheetah after all.” Eijun groaned, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Why? Is everything okay?” 

Kazuya blinked. 

I’m the one asking you that, idiot. 

“Um, do you remember an accident or anything?” Kazuya pressed. 

“Huh…? No - what are you talking about? Oh! I did have a weird dream though. We were on a bus and I think we got hit by a car? It flipped the bus or something, weird dream.” Eijun popped open his can with a tsss noise, bringing it up to his lips to chug it down. 

A dream… huh. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna head back to my room, night, megune bastard.” And with a Bahaha! Eijun turned tail and walked away laughing like a crazy person the whole time. 

Kazuya didn’t have the energy to fight back this time, and simply stared up at the night sky. You could only see a few stars from this spot. 

What will you trade? 

What will you take? 

—-

Kazuya felt it gradually decrease each day. Although he didn’t want to, he knew it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t feel. He wouldn’t be able to feel love, or sadness - soon he wouldn’t be able to feel anything at all.

I’ll give you my feelings. 

The demon perked up, clearly interested. 

Kazuya had learned that whatever that creature was, it was striving to become more and more human and that it lacked feelings. Kazuya wasn’t really sure how he felt handing a demon something like that, but witnessing a green orb fly out from his chest and be swallowed up by a horned silhouette was one of the more bizarre things he’d ever seen. 

But after exchanging them, he realized he no longer cared that much about baseball, and about Sawamura. He no longer had motivation to watch every game review, he no longer felt excited when he caught a strong pitch - he was void of something he so desperately wanted back. His ability to feel. 

“Miyuki, you’re creepin’ me out.” Kuramochi finally piped up, mouth half full of a rice ball. “You got this creepy uninterested aura around you, you’re like Furuya or something.” 

“Oh?” Kazuya responded, before humming gently after. He didn’t really care to listen. 

Kuramochi was clearly bothered by this. 

“Yeah, you’re acting like a real ASS.” Kuramochi grumbled, quickly shoving the rest of his rice ball into his mouth before standing up off the bench. They were on the roof, as Kuramochi said that they needed to talk and it was important. 

“I see.” Was all Kazuya said, he didn’t feel particularly hungry either. 

---

Eijun hoisted the catcher up by his shirt collar, but didn’t move him, simply glowering in Kazuya’s eyes as if they held some secret - some secret Eijun was trying to pry out of him. 

“Who are you and what have you done with Miyuki-senpai.” Eijun hissed the catcher’s name as though it were some swear, growling slightly as if this really were an imposter dressed like the pretty boy. 

“What are you talking about?” Kazuya didn’t really seem too interested in their conversation. 

“The dumb idiot catcher I know doesn’t drop seven balls in a row. Especially from Furuya.” Eijun dropped Kazuya then, stuffing his tanned hands into the blue shorts he was wearing. 

“Is that so?” The other replied, brushing his shirt off as though Eijun somehow, in the span he was holding Kazuya, dirtied his clothes. 

I want to be human, can you help me? 

Eijun looked around, confused.

“Did you say something?” Eijun turned to the only other person near him, Kazuya, who simply raised a brow before shrugging. 

“Are we done?” 

“Yeah we’re done, you asshole.” Eijun gruffed, turning his back to the other and walking towards his dorm room. 

I want to know more, and more, and more- hey - lend me you. 

Lend me more. 

Eijun felt his ears ring, lifting a hand to his forehead as he found himself stumbling, what on earth? It was like his legs weren’t moving at his own discretion, instead he was a stumbling left and right like a drunkard at sea. 

Keep giving me more, and more, AND MORE- 

And more - 

And more - 

It feels so nice, so wonderful to feel the things you do. Is this love? I’m in love, give me more of you - give me the rest of what you glorious mortal beings have to offer - give me your humanity all of i- 

“Sawamura?” Kuramochi pressed a hand to Eijun’s shoulder. “Jesus, why are you so sweaty? Were you practicing? Bakamura, what did we tell you about overexerting yourself.” The shortstop lectured. Eijun blinked, his ears weren’t ringing anymore, but he was sweaty wasn’t he?

“I… I’m fine. Sorry. I think I’m just tired.” Eijun sighed, pushing past Kuramochi. His legs weren’t wobbly like before, and he was able to slip into his dorm, clambering up to the top bunk and nestling comfortably. But sleep would not come easily, and when it did, the dreams that followed would not be inviting. 

Rain was pouring from the sky, onto Eijun’s face.

Share with me - 

Eijun brought his eyes down from the sky, landing on a distorted figure with horns. It was reaching its hands out, and getting closer but Eijun could not move. 

I want to be human, I want to be like you.

Tick…

Tick…

Tick…

Give me more of what makes you, you. 

Let me have some of it, what is it to be human? 

It tilted its head, before grabbing Eijun by the wrists, as if pulling him into its body - a blackened abyss in which Sawamura could not move, think, or feel. Where was he? 

Ah. Was that him? In a hospital bed he saw himself, unmoving and wired. 

This is your fate, I’ve made a deal with your… elder. I took his emotions in exchange for your life, now he is a husk. How sad, don’t you want to help him? 

The demon pressed its fingers to Eijun’s cheeks. Eijun could not speak, only stay suspended in time here, wherever “here” was exactly, Eijun had no clue. He only knew that if what it was saying was true, then Kazuya was different because of him - that he would be responsible for Kazuya being the way he was now. 

“Give me what makes you human, give it to me - and I’ll return his emotions.” The demon grinned from ear to ear, and suddenly they were transported into a world which didn’t make much sense. Floating orbs spinning with memories that were no longer real, but hidden from the naked eye - tucked away into the depths of alternate realities and times - the demon in front of him was huge. Its horns reaching up like tree branches, splitting and spreading into multiple directions, these memories hanging from each end of the branches, what appeared to be roots from the horns glowing vibrant red like veins reaching to its crimson eyes. It was still like a shadowy abyss. It lifted its hands, revealing an hourglass, red sand pouring to the other end. 

“The balance has been restored, you have regained your life - everything is as it should be… But Sawamura… your friend is without emotions. Or should I say your love. He will never return how you feel, at this rate, he might even begin to forget you.” 

Kazuya… would forget him? 

The demon would wave its hands closed, the hourglass disappearing with such a movement. It leaned forward then, opening its mouth and swallowing Sawamura whole. 

“Ah!” Eijun shouted, hands reaching forward as he shot up from his nightmare, eyes wide as sweat stuck to him. What time was it? He reached a shaky hand for his phone, temporarily blinded by its light when he flipped it open - 2:00 am. Ushi no mitsuki doki - the witching hour. Eijun swallowed. Maybe he just needed fresh air, maybe a drink. He shuffled out of bed, as quietly as he could, descending the bunk ladder to head outside.  

“What the…” Eijun trailed, eyes having grown wide - before him was an ice covered world - multiple bubbles floating around with what appeared to be like in his dreams - memories? Eijun found his feet moving without his will, walking forward through time it seemed, and the further he walked, the more and more his surroundings became recognizable. Soon he was in what seemed like a snow covered wilderness, a statue with a clock in the center. The clock’s hands each ticked forward, accurately to how a normal clock would. It was surrounded by these bubble like memories, all showing images of what appeared to be Eijun - 

Eijun went to turn around, but found his legs had been frozen to their spot - what was going on?! 

The demon from his dreams appeared out from behind the clock, its grin wide and menacing. 

“Let’s make a deal, Sa-wa-mu-ra.” 

Chapter Text

Kazuya wasn’t sure when it happened, but he felt the return of his feelings when Sawamura Eijun mysteriously disappeared. Where? He had no clue. The whole Seidou first string, and eventually the entire school began their hunt for the boy. Searching far and wide and even trying to hunt him down in Nagano, but no matter where they looked they found no leads, and definitely no Sawamura. Kazuya was unsure as to why this was all happening to them - didn’t he make a deal to prevent this very thing from happening? 

Kazuya knew where he had to look, he knew it this whole time. 

He had to find the demon in control of time - in control of the past and the future - in control of their lives. 

So Kazuya hunted. He called for the demon, without knowing its name - he called everywhere he could possibly think of. At the old stadium where they played their last match, in the Seidou bathrooms - in the dugout, the field, and even the shed. He searched far and wide, even bothering with the utility closet - all for this demon. 

Kazuya wasn’t sure why he could feel so strongly now, the demon had made a deal with Sawamura hadn’t it? Behind his back. He supposes it was more like a refund though, considering the intense amount of pain he felt, a tightness in his chest he couldn’t ignore. Like a glass being filled with too much water and overflowing, he found himself crying a lot more than usual. 

It only took three days however. 

Sawamura Eijun returned, eyes bright orange like usual, a simple smile on his lips - he was glowing in the sun, glowing full of life, but something was off about him. 

“Miyuki-senpai, nice job today.” Eijun said, a polite smile on his lips as his eyes slid closed in an all too happy and peaceful expression, not befitting of the boy at all - not one bit. 

“Ah, thanks?” Kazuya… asked. How strange, he pursed his lips. “You really have no idea where you went?” 

“On that again? Not a clue.” Eijun confirmed, he was suddenly very neat as a person. His hair was even brushed today, clothes washed, eyes full of childlike wonder. The boy supposedly was paying attention in class too, as his grades shockingly sky rocketed - especially in history. The boy even performed better when it came to the other various roles of baseball, not just pitching, and the coaches, managers, and other staff were impressed. Kazuya had no doubt in his mind that before long he’d become the ace. 

But this wasn’t right. This… it was too easy for Sawamura all of a sudden. 

Eijun always knew what to say at the right moment, he was playing the people around him like skilled pawns - it even got to the point where Kuramochi treated him more like an equal and less like a younger relative - people started looking up to him. 

Girls murmured in the halls about how “cool” Eijun was now. 

How he politely turned down their pink love letters, in such a way that no tears were shed and no heartbreak could be seen. 

Kazuya didn’t like it, it made him sick to his stomach. 

“Disgusting.” He muttered out loud during breakfast once, Ryousuke humming in reply with his chopsticks in hand. 

It really was disgusting. 

——

Kazuya couldn’t quit his hunt for the demon, even three months after this mysterious version of Sawamura bubbles to life. There were too many unanswered questions, but no matter where he looked, how many clocks he bought, and watched, he couldn’t find the answers he was so desperately hunting for - pulling into a void, he knew he’d never reach it at this rate. 

Unless he asked Sawamura directly. 

“You’re not human are you?” Kazuya asked, the two of them were on cleanup duty, Eijun stopped when asked this question, baseball in his hand still. This was the first time since his mysterious return that Kazuya saw the boy become slightly nervous. 

“Haha…? What are you talking about, Miyuki-kun?” There was that all too happy and peaceful look on his face again, another bout of nervous laughter leaving his lips. 

“No… not only are you not a human, you’re not Sawamura Eijun are you?” Kazuya pressed, he walked closer to the boy, glaring - he would get to the bottom of this. 

“Ah. Do I really not act the part well?” Eijun inquired - no, the thing pretending to be Eijun muttered, a look of defeat swelling over his face. 

“It’s wonderful, what you humans have. Something I never knew, such feelings - satisfaction, sadness… despair. I’ve grown so attached to them, I could never do without them - but in such an abyss, I realized how lonely I was, watching over time. I just wanted to… to leave. I needed a way to become a human - no I had to become human, I want to experience the things you simply enjoy ever so - I wanted to feel the things you feel, I wanted to know what sorrow felt like, what it feels like to lose someone you love - I wanted it all. I wanted all the horror and the joy, I wanted to find freedom in this world - freedom from my cage.” The thing inside Eijun’s body would allow the ball nestled in his palm to roll away. “I could have never asked for a better body, this one… has so much heart, he feels so much… you understand don’t you?” 

It looked hopeful in that moment, empty golden eyes finding chocolate ones. 

The air was cold. 

“So you’re saying… you stole Sawamura’s body?!” Kazuya shouted, his hands moving on their own as he grabbed the boy by the shirt, dragging him forward before tossing him to the ground, pinning him down with his hands and legs. Both of Kazuya’s hands was on the boy’s wrists, tears gushed from the catcher’s eyes, one landing on the cheek of Sawamura, rolling down slowly. 

“You don’t understand after all, you’ve never been without mortality.” 

“Where he is?!” Kazuya shouted, glaring. 

“Hm? Do you love him?” 

• “I do, I love him.” 

“What if he doesn’t love you back?” 

• “I don’t care, I love him.” 

The wind picked up for just a moment, rustling their hair about, but neither moved from their position. Sawamura appeared to be at a loss of words, for the first time in what seemed like eternity to Kazuya, and Kazuya couldn’t help the bitterness bubbling in his chest. This thing he was pinning to the ground… to imposter a human?! Disgusting. Really. 

“I hope you die. I hope you disappear forever.” Kazuya glared. “I don’t care if my fate returns to normal, I don’t care - as long as you disappear.” 

“Your normal fate isn’t in your hands, it’s always been in Sawamura’s. He made a trade you see, just like you had in your desperation - in exchange for you to regain your feelings, joy, sadness - he traded his place here in the mortal realm with me.” The demon fessed, but not before sighing sadly. “I realize now, I’m not going to be a very good human, I know too much - I am too much to remain. But you see, Sawamura obtained all my abilities and powers with the trade, he’s somewhere buried in the inner workings of time. To meet him, you’d have to be able to stop time, which neither of us can do. You might as well assume, he’s dead.” 

Kazuya couldn’t stop himself in that moment, fist raising and with a loud smacking sound, his knuckles made contact with Sawamura Eijun’s cheek. 

“That's not true and you know it!” The catcher screamed, sobs shaking his shoulders and voice. 

I love you. 

I want to save them all.

I want everyone to be able to laugh, and be happy again, no matter what I might lose, I just want to protect them from the world - I will protect them from the world. 

I will become time. 

“You can try at two am to find him, leave your dorm room, and if a path appears, then it is your destiny… no fate, to see him.” The demon informs him, blood pooling from his nose. “But if there is no path, then he is gone. Busy with his duties as the lord of time.” 

Kazuya would punch again, but this time it would be the ground next to them, his own knuckles scrapping and bleeding. 

Sawamura took it all upon himself again, hadn’t he? What an…

What an…

IDIOT!

—-

There was no path when Kazuya left his room at 2 am, and he’d proceed to do it for the next few weeks to come, and no matter how much he begged and prayed and prayed there would be no path. Though his knuckles bandaged, though his hatred for the thing possessing Sawamura, he still caught the pitches accordingly. 

A few months later, Sawamura Eijun would become the ace of Seidou high. 

And in the next four months, Kazuya will graduate highschool. Is that really his fate? To never meet the real Sawamura again? To lose him to the folds and fabrics of time - to lose him to a demon, to the voice of death. 

How particular. 

—-

Find me! 

Kazuya felt his eyes open, heavy with sleep, wet from crying. He reached for his phone, tapping on the screen and wincing in pain as white light flashed out, illuminating the room in a solem and lonely glow. 

2:00 am. 

Kazuya’s eyes widened, maybe it was foolish to still be hopeful - he didn’t care. Rushing out of bed, trying to beat the clock, willing not a minute to pass, he eventually flung open his dorm room - 

He heard the sound of a bell, and sure enough before him, would be bubbles of memories that hadn’t happened, but had somewhere else. They had a soft glow to them, bobbing back and forth as if they were submerged in some invisible water. Kazuya would walk forward then, down the metal steps, he’d keep walking, straight. He watched as his surroundings would fade from practical to supernatural. More of these glowing bubbles would fill the empty space, before he’d come face to face with Sawamura Eijun. 

“Yo, Miyuki Kazuya.” The boy would greet. He’d be standing there, dressed in what appeared to be old time robes. He now had a clock ticking forth in his forehead, two clocks would tick next to him, his eyes still holding that gleaming orange glow that Kazuya remembered so fondly. 

“It took me a long time to figure out how to bring this place to the mortal world. Man, these powers sure are hard to control… I missed you though, and everyone else.” Eijun seemed sad, as though this were all a bittersweet moment for him. 

“Sa… Sawamura… is that really you?” Kazuya almost pleaded, absolutely bewildered at the sight of Eijun like this, in this moment he felt so exposed and vulnerable but he didn’t have it in himself to care too harshly. 

“As close to the real me as you’ll get, I’m sure.” Eijun confirmed then, extending a pointer finger. “Hey, you know what? I don’t think I ever threw a full ten pitches into your mitt.” 

“Huh?” 

“When we won that game, I said catch ten of my pitches!” Eijun had a childish grin on his lips, and snapped his fingers, and with a rush all too fast, they were on the Seidou baseball field. Sawamura, still dressed in fancy robes, had a mysterious baseball that had a strange glow to it in his hand. Kazuya looked down to find a mitt on his hand, it too had the bizarre glow to it. Eijun did his full windup on the mound, before tossing the ball from the tips of his fingers, it smacked into the mitt with a loud thud that would send both of their hearts into a frenzy. 

1. When I see you again, I’ll make sure you tell you everything I feel, no matter what the consequences are. I’ll make sure to treasure you always, because I love you!

Kazuya tossed the ball back, and he couldn’t help himself. 

“Nice throw.” He said softly, as though it were forbidden from his lips, and Eijun visibly gleamed. 

Eijun would complete another full windup, throwing the ball once more. 

“Out!” Kazuya shouted. 

“Oh come on! That was totally in! You’re just jealous of my amazing pitching skills!” Eijun threw his head back, hands flying into his hair and tussling it into a messy fray like he always did when he was upset or frustrated. 

1. I’ll make sure to protect you, and keep you close by, I’ll never let you leave my sight again - when I find you, if I find you, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. 

Smack! 

“That one is still out.” Kazuya grinned, and Eijun deadpanned. 

“You’re such a liar, shitty bastard.” Eijun would respond by kicking the mound softly. “Fine, I’ll make sure the next pitch is so fantastic you’ll never wanna catch anyone else’s throw again!”

“Uh huh, I’m sure you will, sa-wa-mu-ra.” Teased the catcher, throwing the ball back. 

1. I’ll do everything in my power to bring you home, I’ll find the real you and make sure you live your life to the fullest - I’ll take you to Koshien, I’ll make sure you follow my lead - I’ll make sure you stay with me always and forever! 

“In, nice ball.” Kazuya would stand up from his crouching position to toss the ball back, and Sawamura would catch it expectantly. 

“Bahaha! Of course it was! I never throw any bad throws ever!” Eijun full of pride placed both his hands on his hips, head tossed back as he cackled like an evil witch brewing something all too evil. 

“You didn’t let me finish. Nice ball for someone out of practice.” Kazuya had a devilish expression in that moment, an almost childish giggle escaping his lips. 

“Hey!!” 

1. Always and forever, that’s how long I’ll love you, and nothing will ever change these feelings - I want only you, I need only you, the way you - the way you made me feel was unlike any other, oh how I miss you so. 

“Do you have the yips or something?” Kazuya groaned, tossing the ball back. “That’s barely four, what’s the matter with you?” 

“Shut up, bakayuki, I’m working on it! I’m just out of practice!” 

• “What happened to never throwing a bad ball?” 

“I’m going to hit you.” 

• “I’d like to see you try!” 

“God you’re so weird.” 

• “Haha, thank you!” 

“That was NOT a compliment, shitty catcher!” 

The two would continue their bickering. 

1. I feel these things because, the last thing I ever want to see you do is cry - the last thing I ever want to know is you’re sad, I want to help you, build you up and make you the best you can be- because my job as catcher is to…

“Oh? That was almost actually a good pitch.” Kazuya complimented, his eyes found themselves trained on this strange ball, so bright and orange. As he threw it back, he saw a sad and distant expression meet him on Sawamura’s face. 

“We’re over half way done, aren’t we?” Eijun asked, almost hoping it was less, as if he wasn’t almost done with his ten promised pitches. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Kazuya knew that this, once the number hit ten, might be goodbye. 

1. Is to… bring out your potential, and allow you to burn bright! To fill you with the desire to push, and the motivation to stand back up - to promise you the victory you deserve! Because it’s my job as someone who… as someone who…!

Fwap. The ball collided with the mitt strongly, ah so Eijun planned to finish this as strong as he possibly could huh? Kazuya had no complaints. That was honestly the best pitch of the night, and he had no qualms telling the other. 

“There you go, just like that.” Kazuya said, a grin fell naturally on his face as his blood boiled. Ah, being a catcher made him so excited.

Eijun visibly gleamed at the slight praise, but wasted no time responding, instead began winding up once more when the ball was back in his possession. 

1. As someone who loves you! It’s my job to make you want to be better, and stronger! It’s my job to support you! I promise as long as you have me, you’ll never be alone! 

Snowflakes had started to drift from the sky, as though they were telling of a time too soon, a time neither of them wanted to reach. Kazuya didn’t know what to say, he knew he could compliment the pitch, but it was getting hard to speak as he felt a familiar wet stinging sensation in his eyes. It burned like fiery acid. 

Eijun would too, feel that burning, and would do everything in his power to laugh it off.

“What about that one? Huh? HUH?!” Eijun asked, eagerness in his voice. 

“It was a good pitch, Eijun.” Kazuya grinned softly, and Eijun would visibly blush at the praise.

1. And as someone who loves you, I hope whenever you’re sad and lonely you feel comfortable enough to come to me about it, because not only as someone who loves you, it’s my duty as catcher! As catcher to make sure MY pitcher is okay! I’ll do it until the day I die! Forever and ever! I promise! I really do! 

The snow had started to come down harder and harder, Eijun had big fat tears rolling down his cheeks now as he threw the next pitch. It collided with a nice smack, and Kazuya too was crying. They were both sobbing now, tears falling into the snow below, it was becoming so, so very cold. 

Kazuya felt how heavy that ball was as he threw it back, scared of what was about to come - what would happen when Sawamura threw his last pitch? Would he disappear into time itself? Kazuya didn’t want to be alone. He was terrified of being alone. 

Eijun was still now, ball in his fingertips. He never wanted this to end, he never wanted to say goodbye to Miyuki Kazuya, because the truth is… the truth is he’s so lucky to know all the people in his life he knows. From Kuramochi to Haruichi, from Furuya to Ryousuke, from Chris to Miyuki Kazuya. He never wanted to be without them, he never wanted to know that tight pain again when he lost them - when he was in a coma, unsure if he’d ever wake up, when he felt Kazuya’s tears burn into his hand. He loved his life, he treasured it and to know it was all about to disappear one day… he couldn’t fathom it. He’d be all alone. 

1. Because without you, I am nothing, and I can’t be anything if there is no one to pitch to my mitt, if there’s no fantastic throws to catch, no hands to hold, I will disappear and fade - I will become as useless as a mitt without a hand, that’s why I need you - you give me a reason to keep going! To keep reaching! To keep fighting!

Eijun screamed a heartbroken scream as he threw the ball from the tips of his fingers, it spun with his entire heart placed into it, and Kazuya caught it with all he had. That was ten. 

Light erupted from the ground below them, the ball and mitt fading into irrelevance. Kazuya found himself struggling to stand up, he wanted to run to Sawamura and hug him, to tell him everything was okay because he was here now - and he’d never let go. 

1. Because I love you simply for being you, no matter what I will always care for you, so tell me, as my pitcher, what kind of throw do you want to make? What kind of play do you want? I will always be here, because Sawamura, I love you. 

Eijun screamed, horns erupting from his head as his eyes became increasingly more orange, nails sharpening as he became more and more demon-like. His teeth formed into a more sharp and pointed look, he growled then as his body transformed. Tears still rolling from his eyes. 

“What a disgusting world.” Eijun spoke, but it sounded as though many of him were talking at once, voice cold and unwavering. “To have everything taken from you, the ones you love, the ones you need, how unfair - how unfair.” 

Eijun began to glow then, multiple clocks appearing all around him, all pointed at approximately 12. 

“I will undo it, I will undo this cold and unfair world - as the time holder, I will erase it all - I will prevent it from happening - I will not allow you to suffer.” 

“Stop!” It was… Sawamura’s voice? Kazuya turned his head to see the prior demon struggling to stay upright in the shaking and cracking ground. But he wasn’t alone, with him was Haruichi, Kuramochi, Ryousuke - even Furuya! Actually it was the full first string of Seidou there, all of them fighting to keep on their feet. 

“I would never… have known what it is to feel… without you… so for that I am grateful - to the both of you! But this has gone too far! This is why… the lord of time… can’t have feelings!” The demon shouted, tears rolling from its eyes. “I should… have never done this to you… if you do this, everyone you know and love will disappear! Your family, friends - everyone!” 

Eijun would continue to yell, more and more clocks appearing. The ground would begin to shake more and more, black lighting erupting from all around him. 

I love you. 

Kazuya forced himself to his feet, knees buckling under the immense pressure being erupted from the god-like entity before him. He’d take one shakey step, screaming through clenched teeth as he’d continue to force himself forward. 

Catch ten of my pitches!

I love you!

I will protect them! 

“Make a deal with me, Sawamura-San.” The demon said, softly a grin on its lip. 

“You protect everyone, and I have my duties back, I understand now I could never replace you, and more importantly… I’d cease to exist if you do this.” 

Lighting more and more began dashing out and around Sawamura, as he begun hunching in on himself, lifting off the ground as more and and more clocks appeared, each starting to tick loudly as their large hands began inching forward telling the stories of time with them. 

“I… can’t…. stop….!” Eijun yelled, his body shaking with the immense power bubbling within him. Was he going to erase time? Why? 

“It’s because you’ve given up on time. This is what happens when a time lord loses its mind. When it gains a taste of emotions. This is why it had to be a demon, and not an angel.” The demon sighed, extending a hand. “You have to remember why you love the earth! Why do you love time! Why you love those around you and why it’s worth preserving, think Sawamura-San!” 

Why did… Eijun love time? 

Because he could play baseball. 

Because he met Miyuki Kazuya, and his friends - and his family. 

Because he could always remain here. 

TICK…

TICK…

TICK…

TICK…

“As the commander of time,” Sawamura started as though he were creating a mantra, “I wish to undo the pain and suffering of this realm, I will fix what is wrong, and remove the problem.” 

“EIJUN!” Kazuya shouted then, collapsing to his knees unable to push forward, desperately reaching a hand forward. A hand that would never reach. 

Fwoomf. 

A blackness would consume the entirety of the Earth then, absorbing in it everything. 

“I… couldn’t protect them…” Sawamura whispered into the nothingness he had summoned, unable to remove it. 

It had been too late, he had failed them hadn’t he? He wondered if they hated him, but there was no way to tell now. In a different time, they’d all have been happy, right? 

Miyuki-Senpai! Catch ten of my pitches! 

In a more oblivious time, when that was a promise of good to come, it had become a morbid reminder of their fate. He never told Kazuya how he felt, had he? How horrible. 

“It’s not too late.” 

Eijun opened his eyes, in front of him was himself, but he knew it was the demon of time, it appeared sad but understanding all at the same time. 

“Let’s make a deal.” 

——

“And ten.” Kazuya threw the ball back at Sawamura. “There’s your promised ten.” 

“Oh come on, fifteen!” 

“Whaaaa?” Kazuya replied, absolutely baffled. “No way, now go ice your shoulder. I can’t believe you even drug me all the way out here even after today’s pitching.” 

If I had a second chance, 

If we had a second chance, 

I’m sure we’d both tell each other how much we cared and loved one another. 

“Hey, Miyuki… -San.” Eijun asked on their way to the vending machine, both lightly slicked in a slight sweat. 

“Hm?” Kazuya raised an eyebrow at the honorific.  

“I love you.” 

Kazuya appeared baffled at that moment, mouth agape. Heart hammering wildly in his chest as though someone had jumped him. 

“I…” but he knew, he had always known how Sawamura had felt for him. Ever since the moment when lightning erupted over the Earth. Everyone at Seidou remembered it, somehow their memories had been preserved by the time God, Damon, lord, whatever it was. 

It had done them right this time, Kazuya supposes. 

But just because he knew how Sawamura felt, it didn’t make it easier to say it back. 

“I love you too, Ei-Chan.” Kazuya lightly hopped the other on the shoulder, to which the younger gleamed. 

“Hey, Miyuki, let me sleep in your room tonight” 

• “No.” 

“Please?” 

• “That’s super against the rules.” 

“You’re such a worry wart.” 

But alas, Kazuya would eventually cave, and with Sawamura in his arms, he found comfort in an all too comfortable sleep. 

He doesn’t mind the world ending, as long as it’s by Sawamura Eijun.

He will always love Sawamura. 

And Sawamura will always love him. 

Fin

True ending: 1

Below is the bad end! 

Fwoomf. 

A blackness would consume the entirety of the Earth then, absorbing in it everything. 

“I… couldn’t protect them…” Sawamura whispered into the nothingness he had summoned, unable to remove it. 

The world would end then, it would be ruptured and sent across all of time and space and cease to exist. At least he got to throw ten final pitches he assumes. 

“Sawamura, you can still protect them.” A voice came, and as Eijun opened his eyes to his own self he knew what he met. 

“Kill me.” Eijun pleaded and the demon sighed.

“An exchange of your life for that of the entire world? You’re willing to do that?” The demon asked, and Eijun smiled. 

“As long as Kazuya lives, of course.” 

“What a strange thing you humans are. But a deal is a deal. I’ll undo what you’ve done, take my hand.” 

—-

Kazuya gasped, eyes flinging open. He was back at the hospital. A dead flower petal falling slowly and sadly from the wilting flowers beside Eijun’s hospital bed. The air compressor pumping air into the boy’s lungs could be heard hissing as it did its job. 

“Please wake up.” Kazuya begged, forehead pressing into the neck of Sawamura, his tears bubbling from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks into the collar of the hospital gown. “I’ll never get to tell you how I feel if you don’t…” 

It would only be a few months later when they finally decided against keeping him alive, they’d pull the plug and have him burned and placed in a tree seed. Seidou would come together to plant it by the baseball field - since it was Eijun’s favorite thing. Kazuya would visit where the tree was planted many times, it would be protected by an orange fence, and he’d read to it. Other times talking about the game, or if someone whiffed it how funny it was to see them collide with the ground. 

Though the sensation of missing your lover was consuming, Kazuya was just glad he had the opportunity to know Sawamura Eijun for who he was - bright and strong. 

“Furuya still says he isn’t going to lose to you.” Kazuya laughed, flopping on his back to view the clouds. 

“I miss you, and I hope wherever you are you find happiness, Sawamura. I love you. I guess I never really told you, did I?” 

Kazuya felt the hot tears roll down his face, sticky and salty, falling into the grass blades below him. 

When he graduated, he left his catching mitt right next to the sapling. He’d make it a habit to visit yearly with the rest of the first string. They’d have a cookout in honor of Sawamura Eijun every year on the boy’s birthday. 

And Kazuya, when everyone else went home, would always make sure to catch the tree up on the missed time, and of course, always tell it a prompt “I love you.” 

“I love you, Sawamura.” 

Fin

Bad end: 1