Chapter Text
The sun was barely even peeking over the horizon, its pale light spilling lazily between the dorm buildings. The air was cool, heavy with that pre-dawn quiet when even the birds hadn’t yet begun their morning chorus.
It was in that near-silence that Sawamura found himself banging— loudly —on Miyuki’s door.
The thuds echoed down the hallway, and he winced, briefly glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else had been woken by his enthusiasm.
Finally, the door creaked open, revealing a very rumpled-looking Miyuki. His hair stuck out in uneven tufts, his glasses were missing, and his sharp eyes were narrowed into a sleepy glare.
“Sawamura… what the hell are you doing here at the crack of dawn?” Miyuki’s voice was hoarse with sleep, his words stretched by a jaw-cracking yawn. He leaned against the doorframe, clearly fighting to keep his eyelids open. If Sawamura didn’t have a good reason for showing up, Miyuki looked about two seconds away from shutting the door—and this time, maybe on his face.
“Well… I was wondering if you wanted to eat breakfast together!” Sawamura blurted out, his voice rushing like a fastball he couldn’t control. “Since I doubt we’ll be interacting much once the training camp practice starts later.”
The last part came out softer, almost mumbled. His cheeks warmed, and he quickly looked away, shoving his hands deep into his pockets like that would hide the fact his palms were clammy. For a moment, he was painfully aware of how much this felt like one of those awkward confession scenes in the shoujo manga Haruno had been lending him. He really needed to catch up with her on that latest volume… preferably when his heart wasn’t pounding this hard.
Miyuki stared at him for a moment. Not a glare, exactly—just a long, unblinking look that made Sawamura shift on his feet. Then, without a word, Miyuki sighed… and closed the door.
Lightly, but still. Right in his face.
Sawamura stared at the wood grain, his chest sinking. ‘ Okay. That’s obviously a no. Big fail. I’m an idiot.’ He turned half-away, ready to slink back down the hall and maybe bang his head against the nearest wall for dramatic effect—
The door opened again.
This time, Miyuki had his glasses perched on his nose, slippers on his feet, and a faint crease still pressed into his cheek from the pillow. Without so much as a greeting, he brushed past Sawamura and started toward the stairs, the soft shuffle of his slippers the only sound in the hallway.
Sawamura just… stood there, brain lagging behind reality.
Halfway down the hall, Miyuki glanced over his shoulder, his eyes still half-lidded but now holding a softer glint—som ething warm and unguarded that made Sawamura’s chest clench unexpectedly. It reminded him, fleetingly, of the plush, worn teddy bear he’d had as a kid.
“Well, idiot?” Miyuki asked, that warmth instantly replaced by his usual smirk. “Are you coming, or are you gonna starve?”
…Okay. Maybe Miyuki was just a jerk.
===
The walk to the cafeteria was quiet at first, the only sound the faint squeak of Miyuki’s slippers on the worn floor and the steady thump-thump of Sawamura’s footsteps following behind him. The dorm lights were still dimmed for early hours, giving the hallway a hazy, almost sleepy glow. Outside the windows, the sky was still bruised with the colors of dawn, not yet fully awake.
By the time they stepped into the cafeteria, it was practically empty. A couple of half-awake second and third-years were nursing bowls of miso soup in the far corner, and the smell of freshly cooked rice lingered in the air.
They grabbed their trays and loaded up without much fuss—Miyuki’s was neatly portioned with grilled fish, rice, and pickles, while Sawamura piled on a little of everything like he was preparing for a marathon.
They settled at one of the many empty tables, the clink of chopsticks and the hum of the vending machines filling the silence between them.
“So,” Miyuki started, breaking the quiet as he adjusted his glasses, “what’s the grand life of Sawamura Eijun like when he’s not yelling to get on the mound?”
Sawamura blinked at him mid-bite, then grinned. “Huh? Oh—you mean back home? Well, I guess it’s pretty normal. Wake up at sunrise, chores first, breakfast, more chores… depending on the season, we’re either planting, weeding, or harvesting. And then there’s the animals—”
He launched into a surprisingly animated list of the goats, chickens, and one particularly stubborn cow his family kept. Miyuki listened with his usual faint smirk, propping his chin on his hand as Sawamura gestured wildly with his chopsticks.
“Y’know,” Sawamura said, almost too casually, “if you ever wanna see it, I could show you my family’s farm sometime. It’s real nice in the spring.”
Miyuki’s eyebrow arched. “Oh? Inviting me to the countryside now?”
Sawamura’s ears went pink. “I-it’s not like that! I’m just saying, it’s peaceful! And the food’s good!”
“Mmhm.” Miyuki’s smirk deepened, clearly unconvinced.
They lapsed into an easier conversation after that—random things, like which dorm showers had the best water pressure and whether or not the vending machine’s coffee counted as drinkable. (Miyuki claims that it's some of the best coffee around…Eijun begs to differ.)
But eventually, Miyuki steered things back toward business. “How are you feeling about the training camp?” he asked, poking at his fish with his chopsticks. “You ready for what’s coming?”
Sawamura perked up immediately. “Of course! I’m totally fired up! I’ll give it my all from the very first pitch—”
“Yeah yeah,” Miyuki cut in, already knowing that the pitcher was prone to giving 10 minute unnecessary speeches. “try not to burn through all your fuel before we even get started.”
Sawamura nodded vaguely, but it was clear his mind was already somewhere else. He was far too busy happily chewing on a mouthful of rice to process the warning.
Miyuki let out a quiet sigh, his smirk returning as he watched Sawamura’s cheeks puff slightly while he chewed. ‘ He’ll figure it out soon enough,’ Miyuki thought, amused. ‘ The hard way, probably.’