Chapter 1: Aotsuki Wakana
Summary:
Miyuki isn’t sure how the Wakana-is-Sawamura's-girlfriend theory started, but logically speaking, if it walks like a girlfriend and texts like a girlfriend, it probably is-
NOPE.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
There are a lot of things Miyuki Kazuya knows.
He knows how to read a batter's stance like a goddamn psychic. He knows when to call a forkball low and away, and when to do something reckless just to shake the lineup. He knows how to manage pitch counts, how to keep his head cool in the ninth inning with loaded bases.
Outside the field, he knows how to carry himself. How to cook. How to maintain his routine. How to study and keep his grades afloat.
He knows a lot of things.
What he doesn't know, is why his stomach lurches the moment he sees her.
At first, it’s just a glance. A pretty girl standing by the player's exit, surrounded by loud, laughing voices.
She looks normal, in the best way possible.
Even Miyuki, a baseball idiot who usually thinks of nothing but batting averages and pitch calls, can acknowledge that fact.
The first time he sees her is when he's a second year- the girl had come to watch the semifinals against Sensen with Sawamura's other middle school friends.
She’s really pretty, Miyuki has to admit.
It's not like she dresses up in a flashy manner. She’s dressed in a loose green t-shirt, worn shorts, a handkerchief tossed over her head to block the sun. She looks casual. Relaxed.
Her pink lips are curved in a soft smile. Her legs are long and toned. And, well, she is... hard to ignore.
But what Miyuki notices first- before the long legs, the sun-warmed skin, the way her eyes shine... is how Sawamura has his arm draped over her shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Like it belongs there.
Like he belongs there.
Miyuki blushes, embarrassed by his own train of thought, and quickly looks away.
Aotsuki Wakana is a pretty girl.
And yet, maybe because of that simplicity- her features stand out even more. Her big, sparkling eyes watch Sawamura with warmth.
To his relief, Kuramochi isn’t doing much better. His mouth is wide open as he stares at Sawamura's 'not-girlfriend.'
"Wa-ka-na-! That's Wakana?!" He blurts, cheeks rapidly becoming red, seemingly breathless. "That's the Wakana he's always texting?! That brat-!"
Miyuki’s glad someone else is also suffering. Misery loves company.
“Wipe the drool off your face, Mochi-kun~” Miyuki says dryly, trying for smug, but failing.
At least it’s a distraction.
“Oh, fuck off,” Kuramochi hisses, eyes still fixed on her. “You can’t blame me. She’s really hot."
Miyuki opens his mouth to agree, hesitates, and instead shrugs with all the energy of someone pretending to be above it all. “Yeah, I mean. She’s alright.”
She's not just alright. She's gorgeous.
And Sawamura- idiot Sawamura, oblivious Sawamura, loud puppy Sawamura, baseball idiot Sawamura- is leaning against her like he does it all the time.
Miyuki swallows.
"I can't believe he's texting her all the time." Kuramochi grumbles. "She's got a crush on Bakamura, I swear. I've read their mail, it's so obvious."
"You what-" Someone interjects from the side.
That comment lands heavier than Miyuki expects. On the outside, he just chuckles.
“What makes you think that?” He asks.
Kuramochi waves a hand, dismissive. “Please. She’s practically confessing in every message, just in that subtle, roundabout way girls do. And he’s too dumb to notice. Kyaha! She once told him she wished she could’ve been beside him to watch him grow, and he replied telling her not to act like a creepy mother hen.”
Miyuki would usually laugh at that, he really would. Genuinely. It’s peak Sawamura. Idiotic, tone-deaf, full-sprint energy.
But right now, the tightness in his throat won’t go away.
He glances back at her, and the lump in his chest only grows heavier.
"I want to punch him." Kuramochi grumbles.
He steals another look at her, and yep. There it is.
She’s still looking at Sawamura. Her entire expression softens when she does. It’s subtle, not over the top. But it’s there. The fondness. The way her lips curve slightly like she’s thinking about something only the two of them would understand.
She only sees him.
Miyuki pushes up his glasses as he watches them carefully. He tells himself it’s just observation. A visual cue. A data point. Like... the way a batter twitches before a swing. Completely normal to analyze. Objectively.
"Isn't that the girlfriend we've heard so much about?" Sachiko asks. "How cute..." He hears their managers speak to each other.
“She definitely likes him,” Takako-senpai adds gleefully with a knowing smile.
“Uga,” Masuko agrees.
It gets the attention of the senpais, and they all turn at the said group immediately.
Miyauchi senpai exhales a steam of air. "So that is the famous Wakana. Hmmm."
Even Yuki-senpai nods once. Tetsu-san! The most emotionally unreadable human being to ever exist!
“Childhood friends to lovers- how classic!” Yui squeals, clutching Haruno’s hand.
Miyuki nearly chokes on air.
Childhood friends to lovers? Seriously?
With every word, Miyuki feels himself growing more and more irritated.
That's not a thing! That's a trope! A lazy narrative shortcut. A psychological convenience that people romanticize because they’re afraid of the unknown. It’s just proximity and nostalgia wrapped in a neat little bow.
Besides, statistically speaking, childhood relationships don't always last. In fact, most of them-
Okay. No. No, no. He's not going to start citing relationship studies right now like some kind of emotionally constipated nerd trying to invalidate his own feelings with numbers.
He’s not.
(He kind of already is.)
He isn’t sure how the Wakana-as-girlfriend theory started, but logically speaking, if it walks like a girlfriend and texts like a girlfriend, it probably is- NOPE.
That’s correlation, not causation. Stay objective, Miyuki.
Just... look at them. They match so well it's sickening.
The more he looks at Wakana, the more he notices it.
He can see the way Wakana watches Sawamura, how her eyes follow his every move, how her cheeks flush at even the smallest gesture. The way she fidgets with her fingers, tucks her hair behind her ear, smiles at nothing. She’s completely focused on him.
She only sees him.
And they look good together, painfully so.
And Miyuki’s not sure if it’s just the sun, or the way Wakana’s shorter frame makes Sawamura look… taller, more grown up, but-
Damn.
Miyuki had never noticed before how attractive Sawamura could look when he wasn’t being a complete loudmouth.
Sawamura’s always had that round, stupid face with cheeks like they were made to be squished, like someone pressed “soft” on the character creation slider and forgot to let go. His smile is too wide, eyes too bright, always crinkling at the corners with unfiltered joy like he’s never learned how to hold anything back. And his eyes. They’re this warm, molten brown, too honest, too open, the kind that makes you feel like maybe the world isn’t so complicated after all.
It’s... weird. Not bad. Just whatever.
Miyuki clears his throat and looks away.
Sawamura is handsome.
That realization alone feels like a betrayal.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He turns away, desperate to focus on literally anything else.
There’s a camera bag near Rei-san. Chris-senpai is scribbling notes like the grounded catcher he is. Good. Strategy. That’s what matters. National Championship matters.
Not... not whatever teenage soap opera this is.
There are more important things than indulging in whatever romcom fantasy his teammates are spiraling into.
Like gathering intel on Inajitsu.
Childhood friends, huh?
They probably know everything about each other. Grew up together. Played on the same team. Spent years side by side. Knew each other's families. That kind of connection- that shared history, it's irreplaceable.
And if childhood friends fall in love?
That’s the kind of love that lasts.
It’s obvious how much Wakana cares. She’d dragged herself and their old middle school crew all the way to Tokyo in the scorching heat, just to watch a few innings of Sawamura on the mound.
From the corner of his eye, he sees Kuramochi and Kominato-san slipping off to grab Sawamura.
A pit opens in his stomach.
He isn’t sure he believes Sawamura anymore.
Just childhood friends?
Miyuki doesn't know what the team will do once the two manage to drag him back, but knowing his team, they're definitely going to tease the shit out of him about his so called 'childhood friend'.
And Miyuki sure as fuck doesn't want to hear any of it.
Why should he?
He turns and starts walking, heading toward where Chris-senpai is talking with Rei-chan.
It's better than watching Sawamura and Wakana looking like they’ve stepped straight out of one of those dumb romance manga Jun-senpai secretly reads on bus rides.
Miyuki doesn't look back, but he hears the familiar chaotic voices rise behind him.
"Oi, Sawamura!"
"Introduce your girlfriend to the team!"
Kuramochi is laughing too hard to sound threatening, but Sawamura's indignant squawks echo across the area.
Chris-senpai, the ever observant one, notices his clenched jaw and fisted palms immediately. "Something up, Miyuki?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
Miyuki waves a hand dismissively, nodding at the camera bag Rei-san’s holding. “Thought I’d get a head start and find good seats. Somewhere with a clear view. We need all the data we can get to win tomorrow.”
Chris hums, lifting his own notebook. “I’ve got you covered.”
Rei-chan smirks. “Confident.”
Chris echoes the expression. “Prepared.”
“I’d say both,” Miyuki adds with a shrug.
Chris doesn’t say anything. He just hums, flipping a page in his notebook. Rei smirks but keeps it to herself.
Miyuki doesn’t look back.
…Okay. He does. Once.
Just a second. For data.
And it’s a mistake.
Sawamura has been dragged over, face red and flustered as he tries to wave off the barrage of teasing comments. Wakana’s standing nearby, clearly embarrassed too, hands pressed to her cheeks as she laughs, soft, almost shy.
It looks like Sawamura is introducing the team to his old friends.
“This delinquent-looking guy is Kuramochi-senpai, my roommate!” Sawamura’s voice is bright, excited. Miyuki watches Sawamura grin at Wakana, eyes shining. “Oh, and you already know Wakana, right?”
He throws the words over his shoulder casually, like it’s nothing.
Like she’s always been there.
And Wakana looks back at him with the same smile.
It’s easy between them.
It’s effortless.
Miyuki tears his gaze away.
Chris must notice something, because he doesn’t press him with more questions. Instead, he moves to stand beside him, silent, steady.
Behind them, Wakana finally speaks, voice clear and light as it carries across the field.
“It’s really nice to meet you all,” she says, bowing slightly. “Thank you for supporting Eijun.”
Eijun.
Of course she calls him that.
"Let's get going, Miyuki." Chris says after a pause, his voice quiet and gentle. He clears his throat, as if to gently pull Miyuki out of his head. "The others should join us soon enough."
“Yeah,” Miyuki replies, gaze fixed forward. He doesn’t look back.
He has better things to do.
Better than standing here watching the human embodiment of sunshine get his romcom ending.
(Better than noticing how his chest aches a little.)
That evening, after Inajitsu’s victory over Sakurazawa, the stadium empties and the sun begins its slow descent behind the stands. The team has already left to board the bus- Miyuki lingers longer than he means to.
He tells himself he’s strategizing. Visualizing pitch calls. Studying Mei’s mechanics in his head. Mei had gone all-out today, knowing that they'd been watching.
But in truth, all he sees is Sawamura’s smile.
The one he gave her. The one that wasn’t a goofy grin or an exaggerated show of confidence. It was soft. Real. The kind of smile that says, I’m happy because you’re here.
The kind of smile Miyuki has never received.
Not from him. Maybe not from anyone.
And suddenly, the weight of it presses against his chest- that invisible, inevitable distance between him and something he never realized he wanted until now.
"Damn," Miyuki mutters, standing up at last.
He has practice tomorrow.
He has plays to memorize.
He has a game to win.
He has no time for feelings.
(He thinks about her again. About him.)
Miyuki shoves his hands in his pockets, clenches his jaw, and walks away from the field.
That… is the first time he sees Aotsuki Wakana.
It definitely isn’t the last.
And for some reason he can't quite name, it bothers him a lot more than it should.
He reads the field like a goddamn psychic. But he still can't read this.
Notes:
EXHIBIT 1:
Miyuki Kazuya: Childhood relationships don't last
Also Miyuki Kazuya 2 seconds later: Childhood couples have the kind of love that lastsBOOOOOO!!!
LAME, MIYUKI!!! PICK A SIDEEXHIBIT 2:
Miyuki Kazuya: *almost full on poetry about eijun's soft cheeks and eyes and smile*
Also Miyuki Kazuya: it's whatever.
Chapter 2: Haruno Yoshikawa
Summary:
Someone chaotic like Sawamura with someone as clumsy as Haruno sounds like a headache, but they complement each other. They're like a drama pairing with perfect thematic resonance- emotional chaos meets earnest disaster. Balanced. Harmonious. Predictable.
Gross.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Miyuki has to admit, he has to give some credit to Haruno. Even he hadn’t picked up on Haruno's crush until the moment Sawamura got the Ace number.
And even then, it was only because Sawamura was one of their pitchers, and as the team’s captain and catcher, it was his job to observe everything they did.
So, when he’d learned that both Sawamura and Furuya were in the common meeting room, he’d headed over. Their managers were pinning the jersey numbers to the uniforms, stitching them into place.
Since Miyuki had kept the number 2 from the previous season, his uniform needed little alteration. But for the others, especially those with new numbers, there were some adjustments to be made.
He watches as Haruno pins the number to Sawamura’s back. “Should it go here?” she asks, confirming with Sachiko.
Sawamura, understandably, is almost shaking with excitement.
“Yup.” Sachiko nods, her voice full of approval. “Looks perfect.”
Sawamura lights up, his eyes wide as he twists his neck, trying to see the number on his back. “Perfect?”
“Don’t worry,” Yui says, smiling gently. “It looks great on you.”
Miyuki blinks.
Because… well. It does look good on him.
The number 1 doesn’t just fit. It looks like it’s always been meant for his back.
Everybody knows just how hard Sawamura had worked to get the Ace number, so everyone on the team is genuinely happy for him. Even Furuya, their former ace, congratulated Sawamura genuinely even though he'd been disappointed with himself.
Sawamura bends his head in awkward angles, trying to catch a glimpse of the number on his back. "I can't see it! Where is it!?"
Miyuki’s eyes catch the way Sawamura’s shoulders tense just a fraction, as if holding back an explosion of joy. His usual loud energy feels more vulnerable here, and Miyuki can’t help but glance at him longer than he intends.
Amusement bubbles up inside him. Sawamura looks like a stupid puppy, and he can’t help but smirk. Can a person get more…?
"Calm down, it's really there! It's only pinned on, you're going to rip it off!" Sachiko cries out, though her voice is extremely amused.
As soon as the words 'You're going to rip it off!' leave Sachiko's mouth, Sawamura freezes, his eyes wide open.
Haruno watches him with a fond smile.
"You're pretty cute!" Sachiko coos, looking at Sawamura's expression.
Cute? Miyuki thinks, amusement filling his head.
He does look... not dumb right now.
Cute... not wrong, but still.
What the hell kind of word is that to use on a pitcher?
"Hold on, Sawamura-kun. I'll take a picture of your back." Haruno says, and grabs her phone.
"I'll take it!" Sachiko says, and gets Haruno's phone from her.
Sawamura straightens up and throws a thumbs up to the camera with a wide grin. His wide grin fills the room like sunlight, and Miyuki almost feels like he’s glowing from across the way. The energy is contagious, impossible to look away from, but Miyuki fights the urge to be pulled in.
"Hold on, Sawamura-kun. There's a piece of lint on your back." Haruno says, stepping forward to gently dust it off his back.
Miyuki doesn’t think much of it, until Haruno leans in a little closer, her fingers gently brushing against Sawamura’s jersey as she adjusts the fabric. In that moment, he notices something- the tips of her fingers are covered in small bandaids.
She fusses with the uniform for a bit, and makes a show of straightening the number on his back.
Miyuki watches with curiosity. It oddly feels... intimate.
It’s just fabric. Just a number. Just lint. So why does this feel like a moment he wasn’t invited into?
She straightens it one last time, then steps back.
Sawamura throws several poses to the camera, and Sachiko keeps clicking them.
For once, Miyuki doesn’t look at Sawamura. He watches Haruno instead.
She’s only watching Sawamura, her cheeks flushed, a hand covering her smile, her eyes soft with affection. Something feels different. The soft look in her eyes as she steps back- it's not just about the uniform, or about how she’s helping Sawamura. It’s more. It's... personal.
Her eyes are so fond.
So fond.
The lump that forms in Miyuki’s throat is sudden and tight.
He remembers how Haruno had been the one to give Sawamura his favorite "partner," his tire. To this day, no one else touches that tire except Sawamura.
He remembers how she always makes sure to hand Sawamura his food during breaks in the on-field camps, carefully avoiding any natto after learning how much he dislikes it.
He remembers how she volunteers to do the laundry for the pitchers, but more specifically, for Sawamura.
Haruno always gives him the first water bottle after practices. She’s the one who makes sure to get him his amino acids after every match.
Miyuki also remembers Chris-senpai mentioning that Haruno had been the one to play messenger when he and Sawamura weren’t getting along.
Miyuki’s mind races, overwhelmed with something he can’t quite name.
He had always known the bond between their team and the managers was unique- they truly cared about each other. But now, thinking about it…
Haruno had always been there for Sawamura in her own quiet way.
Helping him. Supporting him.
Watching him.
Maybe it’s more than just friendship, a voice whispers in his head.
It’s just a hypothesis. A working theory. Subject to denial, peer review not welcome.
It’s looking pretty damn likely that Haruno likes Sawamura.
Statistically, it makes sense. People who spend a lot of time together in high-stress, high-support environments tend to form attachments. That’s normal. Hormonal bonding. If anything, it's inevitable.
(He should really stop beginning thoughts with statistically when he’s talking about his own feelings. But it's the only framework he has. Feelings are just unpredictable data points anyway. Right?)
He nods to himself like he's said something wise. Like that explains everything.
It doesn’t.
He shoves it down immediately.
He’s just the captain. It’s none of his business.
It doesn’t matter. It shouldn't.
He watches as Haruno steps close to Sawamura as he swipes at his pictures in the phone. Miyuki catches the faintest crease of embarrassment on Sawamura’s face, a rare crack in his usual loud facade. His ears are so red. For a split second, Miyuki’s breath catches, and he quickly looks away, annoyed at how easy it was to notice.
However, at one point. Haruno stops looking at the photos, and starts watching him instead.
He doesn’t want to see that expression. Not again.
It’s too honest.
Too… intimate.
Her eyes shift from the phone to Sawamura’s face, and for a brief moment, their closeness becomes evident. Their proximity makes the air between them feel thicker, heavier. Miyuki can almost feel it pressing against his skin, and he deliberately shifts his gaze elsewhere, unwilling to admit how much it bothers him.
That proximity would affect anyone.
(If Miyuki was standing where Haruno was, he's not sure he'll be able to hold himself back.)
Her face softens as Sawamura smiles, displaying all his emotions for everyone to see. It's not even a particularly big smile. But it’s open, bright in that reckless way only Sawamura can manage. The kind of expression that feels like a damn spotlight.
"Hey, Haruno." Sawamura says, handing the phone back to her. "This is your phone, right? Can you send those pictures to me? I want to send them to my family and to Chris-senpai."
"Sure thing, Sawamura-kun." She says. "I'll send them once we're finished here, okay?"
"SURE!" Sawamura replies, his enthusiasm loud and infectious.
Miyuki... keeps looking, even after Haruno’s already glanced away.
'They sure get along well.' He thinks, and is surprised at how bitter his thoughts sound. He'd heard from Kanemaru (indirectly, of course) that the two of them bonded well.
Miyuki sits down on the chair in the corner, entirely silent. Weirdly, he doesn't feel like saying or doing anything.
Why had he even come here? He should've just gone to bed. What was he expecting to see?
He was the captain. A third-year. Sawamura’s maybe-dating life should be the last thing on his mind.
There’s no proof they're even dating. Haruno didn’t say she liked him. He didn’t say he liked her.
But then again, they probably wouldn’t say it. Not yet. They’d just… do things like share anime recommendations and hand-feed each other emotional validation.
You know. Normal teammate behavior.
His eye twitches.
Okay. Maybe it’s not normal.
But maybe it is. Maybe he’s the weird one. The interloper. The guy who’s trying to turn friendship into a… into a…
What, exactly?
Even if Sawamura did like Haruno back- and okay, statistically likely, she’d be a good pick.
As the team’s manager, she knows just how much effort they all put in to reach their goals. She’d understand if their relationship needed to take a backseat to baseball.
She’s also a sweet girl who’s done a lot to help the team.
And sure, someone chaotic like Sawamura with someone as clumsy as Haruno sounds like a headache, but they complement each other.
They're like a drama pairing with perfect thematic resonance- emotional chaos meets earnest disaster. Balanced. Harmonious. Predictable.
Gross.
His head hurts.
Whatever. He hoped their future children were also clumsy and loud and statistically compatible.
He sits there like a ghost with excellent posture- mentally absent, physically present, emotionally regretting all of his life choices. His eyes follow Yui as she pins up Furuya's number 11 on his jersey.
"Oi, Miyuki!" He suddenly hears. He jolts up, and notices Sachiko calling him. "Come here!"
Miyuki frowns. "Why? I don't need any alterations, I'll just use my old uniform."
She rolls her eyes. "I know, genius. It's not about that. Come here."
He makes a show as he walks there, unsure of what she wants.
Once he reaches there, she hands him something.
It's a keychain- a small jersey, with the number 2 on it. She looks at him eagerly. "It looks cute, doesn't it? We made one for all the twenty players on the bench!"
Miyuki turns the keychain around in his hand. It’s clearly handmade, likely by the managers themselves.
It’s a thoughtful gesture.
For once, Miyuki can't bring himself to be sarcastic. He smiles.
"It's nice. Thanks."
Sawamura pops up behind up.
"WOAHHHH. Did you make it, Sachiko-senpai!?" He asks loudly, voice travelling straight to his eardrum.
Sachiko winks at him. "Looks cute, no? Wait, your keychain is here too." She says, rummaging in the small box. "I think Haruno made yours."
Miyuki freezes. His grip tightens around the keychain before he can stop himself.
"Aha! Found it!" Sachiko exclaims, handing Sawamura his keychain, oblivious to Miyuki's sudden discomfort.
"WOAHHHH!" Sawamura gushes, looking at it with star filled eyes. "Haruno, it's so cute! I didn't know you could make these! You should teach me sometime!"
Sachiko laughs at that. "You're asking the wrong person. You don't know how many times she poked her fingers with the needle making these. She ended up making only two."
"Sorry!" Haruno cries, her face flushed with embarrassment.
Suddenly, the bandaids make a lot more sense.
He’s no expert on sewing, but those bandaids feel… symbolic. Effort. Domesticity. Or maybe something stupid and romantic.
Sawamura looks at the keychain. "Heh? But it looks like a pro made it! You should sell these!"
Haruno blushes furiously. "T-thank you, Sawamura-kun! Though I'm sure you're only exaggerating!"
"NO, NO! I'M HONEST! I'LL TREASURE THE PRECIOUS GIFT THE HARUNO MADE ME WITH EVERYTHING! THANK YOU! I'LL PUT IN IN MY BAG AND I'LL NEVER LOSE IT!"
“Thank you, Sawamura-kun?” Haruno stammers, flustered by the intensity of his gratitude.
Such genuine compliments can, of course, make anyone flustered. Especially if said someone is crushing hard on them.
It is statistically improbable that someone pokes their fingers a dozen times making a keychain for a guy they feel "just friendly" about.
(Though admittedly, his understanding of keychain-based affection metrics is limited.)
Only two keychains. Out of twenty players. And of course one of them was for him.
He’s not upset. He’s just... statistically annoyed.
The managers had made keychains for all of them.
So why...?
She probably just made the keychain out of manager duty. Just like she gives him the water bottle first. Just like she fussily pinned the number onto his jersey like a scene from a badly written romance novels.
…Shit.
Miyuki chuckles, a bit uncomfortable.
"What an idiot." He says dismissively, when Sachiko raises an eyebrow at him. "He never knows how to use his indoor voice."
Sachiko nudges him. "You know that's how he is."
Miyuki wants to get away from here.
Miyuki moves abruptly. "Well, I'm going to bed. Make sure you don't keep the pitchers up for too long, we have early morning bullpen practice scheduled."
Sachiko rolls her eyes in return. "You know we managers are the ones who take care of your schedules half the time, right?"
"Yeah, yeah."
As he moves to leave, his eyes stupidly, instinctively- scans the room one more time.
Just to check. Just to see where Sawamura is.
Just in case he was... looking back. He isn't.
Miyuki walks out of the meeting room, silently cursing the thoughts that won’t leave his head.
(It doesn't work, not really.)
He sighs, rubbing his face. Haruno Yoshikawa, huh... She's, well. She's just nice to everyone.
And Sawamura's just… Sawamura. He’d fall in love with a vending machine if it dispensed drinks at the right temperature.
Love at first vend, or something equally stupid.
But deep down, Miyuki knows that isn’t true. Not really. Sawamura isn’t just anyone. He doesn’t just open up to everyone. He’s loud, yeah, and affectionate, and always throwing himself at people (sometimes literally), but when it comes to real closeness? Trust?
Sawamura picks people carefully.
Like Chris-senpai. Kuramochi.
Like Haruno.
And, well. Sometimes, Miyuki thinks, like him.
Maybe.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking dressed up in logic.
He palms his forehead. “This is so fucking stupid.”
He passes a vending machine on the path.
It hums at him, glowing smugly.
Miyuki glares. “Shut up,” he mutters.
It beeps back at him. Mocking him.
He checks the options.
“…But if they were dating, they’d have to tell the team, right? It’d be a breach of morale otherwise. Distraction potential. Conflict of interest.” He mutters. The machine beeps.
No grape soda. What a fraud.
Another beep.
Miyuki glares harder.
A few days after the Yura Sougou match, Sawamura shoves his phone into Miyuki’s face while he’s trying to eat.
Miyuki scowls, eyes crossing. "You’re too close." He complains.
Sawamura pulls his phone back a bit, and Miyuki realises its a chatroom on LINE, with Chris senpai.
"Chris senpai said he will be able to come to the semifinals!" He exclaimed.
Sure enough, the text confirms that.
Miyuki, as someone who doesn't own a smartphone, doesn't really understand all the ins and outs of LINE. But he does know that people can set their favorite picture as their... profile picture? Avatar? He's not sure.
Chris-senpai's profile is a picture of a famous MLB catcher.
Sawamura’s?
It’s the keychain.
The damn keychain.
Miyuki looks away like it’s burned his retinas. His brain glitches like it just got flashed.
A keychain. As a profile picture. Not even a selfie. Not even a cool action shot. What kind of emotional declaration is that?
It’s not even subtle. It’s… sentimental. A piece of cloth and thread turned into something precious. Public, even.
Miyuki tries not to react. Tries not to let it get to him.
Fails, obviously.
He stares down at his food, appetite flatlining.
Damn it.
Because now all he can think about is how fast Sawamura must’ve set it. Like. Did he do it that night? Did he stare at the stupid little jersey and think, "Yeah, this. This is what I want to show everyone."
He looks away before he does something unhinged. Like throw Sawamura's phone across the cafeteria.
Sawamura, oblivious, continues scrolling beside him, cheeks pink and proud. "I’m gonna send him a good luck sticker too!" he adds cheerfully, thumb hovering over the screen.
Miyuki gives up on pretending to eat. He drops his chopsticks, leans back in his chair, and watches Sawamura with thinly veiled exasperation.
But instead of fading, the tight knot in his chest twists deeper. Not because he thinks it means anything, necessarily. Not logically. He knows Sawamura’s just... like this. Open. Expressive. Endearing.
It shouldn’t matter.
It really shouldn’t.
And yet.
He watches the curve of Sawamura’s grin as he picks the sticker, tongue sticking out slightly in concentration, like he’s trying to ace a test.
It does matter.
Too much.
Notes:
haruno is my bbg and i love her sm i just wanna squish her and thank her for everything she has done for eijun and for seidou,,,,,
Imagine having a full on crash out because of a keychain which was given to YOU AS WELL... miyuki I can't even defend you🥀
Miyuki:
1. “They’re probably dating.”
2. “Okay, but statistically-”
3. “Actually never mind I’m going to bed"ok bro
Chapter 3: Nishino Risa
Summary:
Jealousy wasn’t supposed to look like sunscreen and lemon slices, but here Miyuki was, losing a game no one else knew they were playing.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Miyuki dragged himself across the bleachers, settling into a spot that would give him a clear view of the next match. The heat from their semifinal win still lingered, the adrenaline of their victory thrumming through his veins.
The stadium was slowly filling up again, just as quickly as it had emptied, as spectators buzzed in anticipation for the next matchup.
Miyuki leaned forward, elbows on knees, eyes scanning the field as players began to warm up.
The weight of the final stage was already sinking in. Whoever wins this match would face them next. Their last obstacle, Miyuki thought.
But for now, all they could do was watch.
Behind him, Sawamura was still charged with post-game energy, vibrating with the kind of enthusiasm only someone completely disconnected from his own exhaustion could maintain. He hadn't even caught his breath yet.
“Watch this match carefully, you guys,” Miyuki said to the group, voice dropping into something closer to his ‘captain tone’ as he stepped forward. “Sawamura, you pitched the entire game. Coach will want you rested for the finals. Furuya’s probably starting.”
Sawamura nodded eagerly, adjusting the ice pack on his shoulder. His uniform was still hanging open, half-dressed and glowing with leftover heat. Furuya handed him a bottle, and he took a dramatic gulp.
“Right!” Sawamura’s voice still carried that boyish enthusiasm, though it was clear the physical exertion of the match was catching up to him.
Miyuki paused for a moment, looking at his pitcher, the energy still evident in his eyes. Miyuki let a ghost of a smile pass his lips.
Typical Sawamura.
The guy always wore his heart on his sleeve, whether it was on the mound or in moments like this, when victory was still fresh.
Sawamura scanned the stands, searching for a place for the whole team to settle down. His eyes suddenly lit up, and without warning, he slipped out of his seat.
“I’ll be right back!” he announced, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he bounced away.
“Oi- what?” Miyuki blinked, brows furrowing as the idiot jogged off without context, weaving through the rows of seats.
He watched with a frown as Sawamura jogged down a row of seats and vaulted over one of the railings with alarming ease.
Miyuki’s frown didn’t quite make it to his eyes.
Too smooth.
Objectively, Sawamura should’ve looked like a human disaster flinging himself over stadium seating.
He shouldn’t have looked cool doing that, but somehow he did. Limbs long and loose, body moving like it knew exactly how much space it took up. The motion was effortless, instinctive, like he didn’t even think twice about where his feet landed or how to clear the gap.
Statistically speaking, an athlete’s appeal increased post-victory, due to a phenomenon known as the “winner effect.” It triggered a subconscious increase in perceived attractiveness among observers, especially when the subject was sweaty and still glowing from exertion.
Not that Miyuki noticed that kind of thing.
He wasn’t personally affected.
Just citing the data.
He wasn’t tracking the way Sawamura’s unbuttoned shirt clung to his back. Or how the shadows along his collarbone caught the sun. Or how that ridiculous grin somehow made him look-
Miyuki blinked. Jaw ticked.
Nope. Absolutely not.
...Annoying.
That was all. Just annoying.
He shook his head, trying to reassemble the frown that had briefly started to soften. “What the hell is he up to now?”
Miyuki’s eyes followed Sawamura, a mix of amusement and something unwelcome forming in his mind as the pitcher jumped over a seat and jogged toward... a girl?
He came to a stop behind her, the picture of mischief, shoulders already bouncing with some half-formed plan.
Then, like the walking chaos gremlin he was, he pressed his ice-cold water bottle to the back of her neck.
The girl shrieked, jolting upright with a squeal.
“WAHAHA! Scared ya, Nishino!" He laughed heartily.
"Sawamura-kun!" She snapped, half-laughing as she swatted him.
Sawamura only leaned in closer with that wide, unrestrained grin of his. That grin. The one that was all teeth and sunlight.
Miyuki had absolutely no idea who she was.
His gaze narrowed anyway, as she rubbed the back of her neck, still pink from the shock.
Nishino?
Who the hell is Nishino?
Ambushing someone with a cold object should have led to a breakdown in rapport. Surprise and discomfort usually decreased warmth between subjects.
So why was she laughing like he just handed her a bouquet of roses?
What was that? A shared inside joke?
Did they have lore?
He squinted harder.
His jaw twitched. Not that he was glaring. Or staring. Or paying obsessive levels of attention. He just… happened to be noticing, like any good captain would.
Observation was a leadership skill. Spatial awareness. Social mapping. Identifying interpersonal dynamics that could affect team morale.
It was basic responsibility. Strategic oversight.
It's important to stay aware of them. Especially when said dynamic involved his pitcher grinning with the energy of a golden retriever. It was borderline offensive how natural it looked.
“Did you watch the match? Did you, did you?” Sawamura bounced on his feet, practically wagging his tail.
She laughed, breathless and charmed. “I did. You were amazing! I finally get what you meant when you said summer matches were intense!”
Sawamura's smile shifted- less manic, more warm. Real. His chest puffed up with pride. "I know right?!"
He leaned in, his whole body in motion- grinning, laughing, knocking shoulders. As if proximity was just part of the conversation. He had zero sense of spatial restraint.
Miyuki stayed where he was, arms crossed. Not like he was watching. Not like it bothered him.
Just… observing.
Strategically. Just... Professionally interested.
“You played so well!" Nishino complimented, her eyes shining. "We were cheering nonstop-! Every play was just… wow! The crowds were going wild! You were so good!”
Miyuki's eye twitched. Astute use of vocabulary, Miyuki noted sourly. Real poetic. Maybe she writes fan letters too.
Not that he cared.
She sounded like she was reading off a shoujo manga speech bubble. Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, voice full of stars.
Sawamura was eating it up.
And that was… fine.
Totally fine.
Except something about it itched under Miyuki’s skin, slow and awful.
Like static in his ribs.
Like the sound of someone else's name scrawled over a page that used to be blank.
He shifted his weight, jaw clenched.
Miyuki cataloged the moment like a researcher noting behavioral anomalies. Not that it was anomalous. Sawamura was friendly with everyone. He was loud and warm and catastrophically extroverted.
But still.
Statistically speaking, proximity breeds familiarity. Familiarity breeds comfort. Comfort breeds emotional attachment and vulnerability.
It’s social psychology 101. It’s not personal. It’s the mere-exposure effect. Classical conditioning. Just neural patterning and repetition.
And Sawamura had clearly been exposed. Repeatedly. Over time. In emotionally heightened environments.
A textbook breeding ground for romantic entanglement.
That. Or maybe his pitcher was the kind of idiot who didn’t realize when someone was flirting with him in broad daylight, during a high-stakes scouting match.
Which would’ve been funny, if it didn’t feel so much like someone had knocked the wind out of him.
Kuramochi stepped beside Miyuki as his eyes followed where Miyuki was looking. "Oh, who is he talking to?"
"No idea." Miyuki shrugged.
“Looks like one of the cheerleaders,” Kuramochi said, eyeing the girl's uniform.
Kanemaru stepped up to answer their question. "She's our classmate, Nishino Risa."
Furuya nodded. "They're close friends."
"Close friends?" Miyuki questioned, brows rising.
Close friends.
People had those. It wasn’t exactly rare.
"Since when does he have friends outside the club?" He asked.
Haruichi threw a confused look at him. "He's really popular among the second years. They all like him."
“Kyaha! Just ’cause you don’t have any friends outside baseball doesn’t mean no one else does, nerd.” Kuramochi snarked.
Miyuki rolled his eyes. "That's rich, coming from you."
"Hah?! I'm not like you."
"Name two friends you have. Outside our club."
"...Ryou-san?"
Miyuki snorted. "That's tragic. Just because he graduated doesn’t mean he transcended the sport."
"Shut up!"
"She's probably the closest friend he has outside our club." Kanemaru clarified. "They both only started speaking this year, but bonded really well over shoujo mangas."
"Huh."
Statistically speaking, most humans formed at least three significant bonds outside their primary social groups before age eighteen. This wasn’t a data breach. It was normal.
Adolescent bonding is based on shared emotional narratives. This was a case study in limbic imprinting via serialized storytelling.
Shared hobbies were the leading cause of emotional closeness, and shoujo manga was 70% dramatic confessions, 20% misunderstandings, and 10% guys with tragically soft eyes.
In other words: relationship quicksand. A socially recognized conduit for accelerated emotional intimacy.
Miyuki’s teeth clicked together. And of course it was because of manga. Of course it was shoujo. Cute, emotional, sparkly-eyed bonding over love confessions and page-turning drama.
“And she’s been coming to our games since first year. Bit of a baseball maniac.” Kanemaru added, oblivious.
Perfect. She had context. Dedication. A shared vocabulary.
A home-field advantage.
His brain responded: You’re reaching, Kazuya.
Another voice added, unhelpfully: Or maybe you’re losing.
Of course he had a baseball-loving, manga-reading, easily ambushed friend who laughed at all his stupid jokes and showed up to cheer for him.
Totally normal. Nothing to analyze.
Still, his jaw clenched slightly, and he shifted his gaze away.
Maybe he’d start reading shoujo manga, just to see what the fuss was about.
For research.
"Honestly, I think she has a bit of a crush on him." Kanemaru added, like the ever helpful person he was.
That immediately had Miyuki's attention.
Miyuki’s head snapped back around. “What?”
Too fast. He looked back at the duo.
Sawamura, oblivious to Miyuki's eyes glaring into them was animated, waving his arms around. “WAHA! I COULD TOTALLY FEEL YOU GUYS CHEERING OUT HERE!”
Nishino smiled at him warmly. “It was really fun.” Her voice was fond.
“HOW DID IT FEEL TO CHEER NINE INNINGS STRAIGHT?! IT WAS SO HOT, RIGHT?! THE SUN DIDN’T GET TO YOU TOO MUCH, DID IT?"
She laughed.
Miyuki squinted. It wasn't that funny.
"I TOLD YOU- THE BLEACHERS ARE HARSH! WE’VE GOT SHADE IN THE DUGOUT, BUT YOU GUYS ARE DIRECTLY UNDER THE SUN HERE!”
Nishino shook her head, brushing her hair behind her ear. “It was hot at first, but the match was so good I didn’t notice! Plus, I used the sunscreen you gave me, so I’m good.”
“THAT’S GOOD!” Sawamura nodded, tone approving. “Next time, I’ll bring cooling patches too!”
She flushed. “You really don’t have to…”
Sawamura waved his hands. “Nonsense! You’re cheering for us! It’s important!”
Kuramochi’s brows shot up. Miyuki cleared his throat.
Kanemaru muttered under his breath. “Okay, isn't giving a girl sunscreen like... boyfriend-level stuff?”
Haruichi chuckled. "Not necessarily." He said, ever the diplomat.
Miyuki didn’t respond. Mostly because his brain had hit a pop-up ad it couldn't close.
Sunscreen. It was a perfectly rational gift to give a friend. UV exposure was a serious health concern. It wasn't romantic. It was... preventative. Dermatologically responsible. That's all it was.
Still...
Boyfriend-level?
Seriously? What does that even mean?
No, no. This wasn’t about feelings. This was about hydration. Skin safety.
That was thoughtful. Alarming. Maybe he just happened to have some? Or maybe he’s been carrying it around, anticipating the moment? That would imply planning. Strategy.
Sawamura doesn’t plan anything. He’s the human embodiment of jazz.
…Except now Miyuki could see it. Clear as a daydream he hadn’t asked for.
Sawamura at the campus store, squinting at a shelf of sunscreens, choosing two tubes of sunscreen. Frowning in concentration. Buying it for her. Remembering.
Statistically speaking, gifts involving long-term health benefits implied a high degree of concern and personal attention. That wasn’t just friendly.
That was SPF-coded courtship.
And somehow, that was worse.
“For someone who doesn’t work out at all, you sure has a lot of stamina!” Sawamura teased. "I can't believe you stood cheering for three hours."
She flushed, lightly smacking his arm. “Shut up! I joined the cheer squad so I could cheer for you!” She shot back.
Miyuki stared.
It was like watching a childhood friend learn how to flirt in real time. Except the friend was Sawamura. And flirting shouldn’t have been part of his character sheet.
Somewhere deep in his soul, a little flag labeled "Error: Unexpected Character Development" started waving.
“Holy shit,” Kanemaru whispered under his breath. “Did she just-? That’s basically an indirect confession, isn’t it?”
Furuya nodded silently.
Even Haruichi was silent now. It was mildly terrifying.
Miyuki cleared his throat again. Louder this time, like he was trying to reset the simulation.
This wasn’t happening. Girls didn’t just confess in public, like it was a scene out of those damn manga. Not in front of bleachers. Not in front of him.
Sawamura, of course, remained aggressively unaware.
Miyuki looked back at Sawamura, who was now grinning so hard it looked like his face might split open. He looked like someone who’d just won another game, and didn't even realize it.
“Thank you, Nishino. For real! I’LL GIVE YOU ONE OF MY WRISTBANDS AS A TOKEN OF GRATITUDE!”
Miyuki’s eye twitched.
A wristband.
He was giving her a sweat-soaked wristband like it was a love charm. Like they were in the third act of a coming-of-age movie.
And she accepted it, cradling it in her hands like it was a gift of deep personal meaning instead of something that probably smelled like grass and sports drink.
Great. Fantastic. Nothing says 'I acknowledge your romantic courage' like giving someone a damp wrist relic.
“Bakamura...” Kanemaru muttered, clicking his tongue.
Kuramochi snorted. "She’s out here dropping heartfelt lines and he’s offering her sweaty accessories."
“He’s such a dumbass. That was actually kind of romantic.”
Miyuki, surprisingly had nothing to say.
Kuramochi turned to stare at Miyuki, suspicious of how their usually sarcastic captain suddenly had nothing to say. Their captain not talking was almost always a red flag.
Below them, Nishino turned red all the way to her ears, spinning away like she needed to shield her expression. She rifled through her bag with nervous hands, awkwardly fidgeting, and pulled out a small Tupperware container. She pressed it into Sawamura’s hands.
“S-Speaking of stamina,” she said, barely audible over the low buzz of the crowd. “I made honeyed lemon. You said you needed energy during games, right? It’s my brother’s recipe. He plays basketball and swears by it. You should try it.”
Sawamura’s eyes widened like he’d been given a sacred treasure. “YOU MADE THIS FOR ME!? THANK YOU, NISHINO! YOU’RE THE BEST!”
An entire tupperware of lemon slices, and it’s like the guy’s been handed the keys to heaven. That’s all it takes. Citrus and a smile.
Was it always this simple?
Kuramochi groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “He’s so loud. But honestly… that was kind of sweet.”
"That lemon thing was totally a love snack.” Kanemaru said.
"She's always watching him in class." Furuya said.
“Mm.” Miyuki barely responded. “Wow. You’re all reading way too much into it.”
He’s so easy to make happy.
Kuramochi glanced sideways at him. “You good?” He asked pointedly.
“Fine,” It was a lie so obvious it might as well have been written on his forehead. But if he said it fast enough, maybe people’s auditory processing couldn’t keep up.
His eyes were still locked on the scene below, where Sawamura was holding the honeyed lemon like it was his ticket to the finals, grinning like a fool.
And Nishino?
She stood there, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her cheer skirt, glancing up at him with soft, uncertain eyes. Not shy, not naive, just... hopeful. Waiting.
It’s always the same look, Miyuki thought, tightening his jaw. The one they all have when they look at him.
Wakana Aotsuki. Yoshikawa Haruno. Half the first-year girls who stayed behind after games like they were hoping for bonus scenes.
Now this girl- Risa Nishino.
Another person who had accidentally fallen for a boy made of sunshine and decibels.
It wasn’t just about Eijun being the ace now. It was something else. It was him. Sawamura.
There was something warm and dumb and magnetic about him. The way he wore his heart on his sleeve. The way he made people feel like they mattered just by smiling.
You couldn’t teach that in a training manual. You couldn’t diagram it, or run drills for it. That kind of gravity wasn’t earned with velocity or form.
It was just… Sawamura Eijun.
It was the way he was. Loud and clumsy. Unbearably sincere and unbelievably honest.
Sawamura laughed again, loud and wild, and the sound echoed across the half-empty bleachers like a firecracker.
Miyuki looked away.
It was stupid. It was so stupid. This wasn’t news. This wasn’t even surprising. Of course people liked him.
Kuramochi finally broke the silence with a half-laugh. “You think he even notices? All this?”
“No,” Miyuki said flatly. “He never does.”
He never notices. Not the looks. Not the offers. Not the dumb little tupperwares that somehow count as affection.
And definitely not the people standing just a few feet away, biting their tongues, watching it all happen like it’s someone else’s game.
Kuramochi hummed, squinting toward the field. “Must be nice. Walking through life like that. Being that clueless and still loved by everyone.”
Miyuki didn’t respond. His hands were clenched tighter than necessary on his knees.
Sawamura laughed, all wild and free, lighting up the space like it was made for him, and maybe it was.
Because while Sawamura was busy being everyone’s favorite idiot sunshine, Miyuki felt like the guy standing awkwardly in the shadows, wondering how he’d even gotten invited.
Sawamura is, above all else, earnest. That’s his defining trait. His heart is a spotlight that shines outward. It doesn’t turn inward. He doesn't examine or second-guess. He just feels. Loudly. Freely. Unfiltered.
Not because he’s selfish. No, it’s worse than that. He’s oblivious because he honestly thinks everyone’s wired like him. Like affection is some casual, no-big-deal thing. Like love is safe. Like the world doesn’t eat people alive.
Miyuki rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. Yeah, sure. That kind of clueless is a luxury.
Miyuki could almost admire that, if it didn’t sting so much.
He glanced down again.
Sawamura and Nishino were still talking. He couldn’t hear what they were saying anymore, but Sawamura looked happy.
He didn’t want to look anymore.
Didn’t want to think about how far behind he always seemed to be- maybe not in baseball, but in everything else.
He stood up.
“I’m getting a drink,” he muttered.
Kuramochi raised a brow but didn’t stop him.
And Miyuki walked away from the noise, the cheers, the laughter- away from the honeyed lemons and bandaids and smiles that weren’t his.
What even is “honeyed lemon,” anyway? It’s just sliced fruit in sugar water. It’s not a love letter.
He exhaled through his nose. Steady. Unbothered. Totally unbothered.
It’s not like she stitched him a custom keychain or anything.
...Okay, but what if she starts?
The vending machine made a soft clunk as the can dropped. Miyuki didn’t open it. Just held it in his palm, letting the condensation soak into his skin.
He leaned against the nearest wall, hidden behind the concrete outcropping beneath the stands. Distant cheers filtered through the air, scattered applause for the starting lineups on the field below.
Miyuki didn’t care.
...He did.
Ugh.
He’d known this would happen eventually. That someone, somewhere, would see what he saw in Sawamura and move. That someone would catch him in a moment of brightness and think I want to stay in that light forever.
It was inevitable. Statistically speaking, if you put someone like Sawamura in front of enough people, enough people would fall for him.
He just didn’t think it would feel like this.
Like being benched from a game you thought you were winning.
Like someone else learning the rhythm of a pitch he spent years trying to master.
He groaned quietly, letting his head drop back against the wall.
He couldn’t even sulk properly, not when he was supposed to be scouting this game. Not when he had a job to do.
Captain things. Leadership. Responsibility. Whatever.
He thought he’d be over it by now.
After all, this was typical.
Sawamura, the loud idiot. Sawamura, who made friends in seconds and turned enemies into allies with nothing but persistence and a crooked grin. Sawamura, who gave everything without even realizing what he gave.
Miyuki had always been aware of it.
He just thought he could manage it.
Until a girl came along with her stupid honeyed lemon and the stupid sunscreen and the soft eyes like she understood him-
And the worst part?
She did.
Because Sawamura had let her.
He reluctantly made his way back to the stands as he heard the commentator's voice take over.
As he searched for his team, a familiar voice called out to him.
“Miyuki Kazuya!”
He froze.
God. Speak of the devil.
Sawamura was waving at him, beckoning at him.
“There you are!” he beamed. “I thought you disappeared!”
Miyuki inhaled slowly. Willed his face into something neutral.
Statistically speaking, Miyuki had not disappeared. He had simply relocated his emotional breakdown to a more private location. That was healthy. Professional, even.
“Just needed a drink.”
“Ah,” Sawamura nodded, then lit up again. “Oh, oh! Did you see Nishino’s lemon thing? I still have some left here! I saved it for you!”
Before Miyuki could stop him, Sawamura was pressing the small Tupperware into his hands, grinning.
Miyuki blinked at it.
“…You’re giving it to me?”
Sawamura nodded. “Yeah! You didn’t get any earlier, right? You like lemon, don’t you?”
Miyuki stared at the slices floating in golden syrup.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to eat them or throw them off the balcony.
“…Thanks,” he muttered, schooling his voice into something passable. He popped the lid open and popped one in.
It was sweet.
Soft.
Perfectly made.
Sawamura, oblivious, clapped a hand on Miyuki’s back. “Ahhh, I’m so glad she liked the match! Nishino was really hyped! So we gotta give them cheerleaders a real good showdown next time as well, right?!”
Miyuki smiled, because what else could he do?
“Sure. Let’s win one for your girlfriend.”
Play aiming for Nationals. You can impress cheerleaders later.
"HUH?! She’s not my girlfriend!"
Miyuki didn’t laugh.
He couldn’t.
Instead, he looked down at the honeyed lemon in his hand.
Then he looked at Sawamura, beaming and bright like the sun hadn’t scorched anything at all.
…She likes you, idiot.
Miyuki closed the lid. Shoved the lemon back into Sawamura’s hands a little too forcefully.
“Keep your stupid charity snacks.”
Miyuki turned away, fixing his gaze on the field, internally cursing.
Fuck. What was he doing?
“Huh?! It’s not charity! It’s- wait, what does that even mean?!”
Miyuki gave a one-shoulder shrug, the picture of smug indifference. Except he was, in fact, incredibly bothered. And maybe two seconds away from launching himself off the bleachers just to escape the situation entirely.
Sawamura blinked. Then squinted. His entire face started rearranging itself in real-time, like he was trying to decide if he’d just been insulted, or if this was one of Miyuki’s weird jokes he was too normal to understand.
He settled on: mildly hurt but trying not to show it.
Which was somehow worse.
It wasn’t jealousy, per se. It was just… observational discomfort. Mild territorial unease. Maybe chronic citrus-induced resentment. Completely normal.
Miyuki had no claim. No right. No expectation. But everytime, every single time, something inside him hissed.
It was quiet. Ugly. And frankly, irrational.
It was like watching someone scribble all over a notebook that used to be his. Like watching someone else be let into a world he’d been trying to earn his way into for two goddamn years.
He was there first.
He’d caught every pitch, watched Sawamura break down on bullpen mounds, wiped mud off his uniform when he collapsed on the field from overtraining.
He’d built this Sawamura.
And now some girl who liked shoujo manga and handed out citrus slices got to watch him smile like that?
Like that?
He wasn’t being fair.
He knew that.
He also knew Sawamura didn’t notice things the way others did. Didn’t pick up on the difference between someone being kind and someone being in love with him.
Sawamura saw affection and gave it back tenfold, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He treated it like water. He just poured it into whoever needed it and moved on.
He didn’t realize what he gave. That was the worst part.
And Miyuki-
Miyuki schooled his face into a smirk, leaning in close enough to jab, just enough to regain some control. "Focus on the match, idiot. Don't let Furuya outshine you tomorrow."
Sawamura glared at him. "I WON'T! You just see, when I'm put on the mound tomorrow, I'm gonna make you speechless!"
God. He really said shit like that with a straight face.
Miyuki chuckled under his breath, a little bitter at the edges.
He wasn’t mad at Sawamura. Not really.
He was mad at how easy it was for Sawamura to be loved. How easily people handed him their affection. How little it took for him to win people over, like he was made to be held onto.
Miyuki turned back to the field, but his eyes had gone unfocused. His hands flexed once against his knees.
This was jealousy. He couldn't deny it.
Not the "team captain monitoring social dynamics" kind. Not the strategic, observant, calculated kind.
Just… regular, stupid, selfish jealousy.
He liked Sawamura.
He liked him.
Not as a pitcher. Not as a teammate. Not as some bright, infuriating, promising talent he’d helped shape.
He just… liked him.
And watching someone else get even an inch closer felt like losing something Miyuki didn’t even realize he’d been holding onto with both hands.
And now, apparently, he was jealous of a cheerleader.
Awesome. Really dignified behavior for a team captain.
Jealousy wasn’t supposed to look like sunscreen and lemon slices, but here Miyuki was, losing a game no one else knew they were playing.
Notes:
CHALLENGE TRY TO NOT MAKE IT OBVIOUS YOU'VE BEEN SINGLE ALL YOUR LIFE: FAILED SUCCESSFULLY.
Does it show guys? TT I'm being so fr rn. I literally texted my bestfriend and went, do u think a guy giving a girl his sunscreen personally is romantic or just a thoughtful gesture???
she replied: ?????
MIYUKI: has nothing to say
decides to pick on nishino's vocabulary.I'm posting this out of my drafts that I made 2 years ago. I read it again and made a lot of changes, but if there are inconsistencies or random notes left without elaboration, pls do point it out.
Chapter 4: (?) Tachibana Sayuri (?)
Summary:
Statistically speaking, if he heard one more adorable detail about that idiot's life from someone else’s mouth, Miyuki was going to rebrand entirely and move to the mountains. Or take a vow of silence. Whichever had less vulnerability.
Chapter Text
When Seidou’s team returned from Koshien, Sawamura’s orbit expanded exponentially.
The freshmen trailed him like ducklings after a particularly loud, over-caffeinated mother hen.
Outside the club, he was a curious enigma: a loud, feral gremlin who could somehow erase batters with terrifying precision.
First-years lurked outside his classroom like he was a local cryptid, waving shyly and receiving his signature sunshine smile in return- full wattage, no restraint. Second-years offered tutoring help they knew he needed. Third-year girls returned to games, torn between Furuya’s mysterious cool and Sawamura’s… disaster charm.
(Which. Fine. That was fair. He had the kind of charm you only noticed after he ran into a fence headfirst and apologized to it.)
Furuya had gotten this kind of attention once, too, post-Senbatsu, back when he was the new golden boy.
This summer? They went all the way.
And Sawamura, of course, handled attention like he handled everything else: loudly, dramatically, and with absolutely no awareness of how unhinged he sounded.
Every reporter loved him. Every interview turned into a one-man stage show. It was chaos. It was perfect. It was… him.
Which was, apparently, why Tachibana Sayuri, the school magazine’s editor and a girl who definitely had her life together was now hovering nervously by Miyuki’s desk like she was approaching a known wild animal.
She cleared her throat. “Miyuki-kun? Can I talk to you for a second?”
Miyuki looked up, already suspicious. “If this is about the math homework, Mochi-kun here is the one pretending to understand everything.”
Kuramochi scowled. “You piss me off.”
“Haha! Thank you~” Miyuki chirped back, the human equivalent of a middle finger in a cardigan.
Tachibana blinked, clearly recalibrating. These baseball kids were weird.
“Uh, no. Not about homework,” she said.
Miyuki leaned back, arms crossed. “Go on.”
She fidgeted, looking awkward. “It’s about Sawamura-kun.”
His eye twitched.
Of course it was.
Tachibana hesitated. “So, um, as you know, I’m the editor for the school magazine, and we’re doing a player spotlight in the next issue. We’re profiling first-string players in jersey-number order.”
Miyuki nodded slowly, suspicious brain-cell firing. “So you’re starting with…”
“Sawamura-kun,” she confirmed, like the universe hadn’t done enough already.
“Right. Number one,” he said blandly, as if the phrase Number One hadn’t been tattooed across his retinas all summer.
Tachibana brightened. “Exactly! And we want the feature to be more personal than just stats and recaps. Something fun, behind-the-scenes stories, personality quirks, things people don’t know. Before the actual interview with him.”
Miyuki tilted his head, watching her. “And you want me to help.”
“Well… you’re his captain. And his battery partner. And people say you know him really well, so I thought maybe,”
Miyuki didn’t answer immediately.
Because technically, yes, he did know Sawamura well. In the way one might know a persistent raccoon that keeps breaking into your trash: intimately, against your will, and with far too much emotional damage. (Totally.)
Also: “People say you know him really well”?
What people. Who were these people. Was there a list?
He coughed lightly. “Insight, huh.”
Tachibana nodded earnestly.
Miyuki smiled, fake and fast. “You sure people want that?”
She blinked. “Why wouldn’t they?”
Fair question. Unfortunately, it required an answer that didn’t involve words like jealousy spiral or emotional repression.
So instead, he shrugged. “No reason.”
Kuramochi, traitorous bastard, was definitely watching him now. Like a hawk. With teeth.
Tachibana smiled. “So... will you help?”
Miyuki didn’t look at her. He looked at the wall, the floor, the ceiling, anywhere except her notebook filled with questions that would make him talk about Sawamura like some kind of emotionally available person.
“Sure,” he said.
Which was, in hindsight, probably the first of many mistakes.
Tachibana settled across from him, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook with the kind of polite determination that said: I am prepared to ask harmless questions and accidentally ruin your entire week.
“So,” she began, chipper, “to keep the tone casual... I figured I’d start with something simple.”
Miyuki nodded warily. Simple, he could handle. He had several stock answers prepared in advance for public consumption: light teasing, captainly insight, neutral commentary. None of them involved feelings.
She smiled. “Just describe your thoughts on him. On Sawamura-kun.”
Miyuki blinked. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
Huh. Broad. Subjective. Dangerous.
He leaned back in his chair like he wasn’t panicking. “Well,” he drawled, “for starters... he’s too loud.”
Kuramochi snorted from the other side of the desk, because betrayal was a common theme in Miyuki’s life.
Miyuki started counting off on his fingers, clinically. “No sense of personal space. Zero filter. Talks like he’s narrating his own shounen anime in real time.”
Tachibana scribbled notes, clearly amused. “Loud, dramatic…”
“One-track mind. Oblivious as hell. Couldn’t read a room if you gave him subtitles and three weeks’ notice.”
Kuramochi outright cackled. “Kyaha! Says the guy who has no clue about social cues!”
Miyuki ignored him. “Everything’s at a hundred percent with him. Whether he’s pitching or yelling about natto, it’s all... intensity. No volume control. No brakes.”
Tachibana grinned. “Sounds exhausting.”
“Oh, it is,” Miyuki said, and almost meant it. “He’s dramatic to the core. Childish. Never shuts up.”
(Again, not a complaint. Just… an observation. A scientific assessment. Data. Completely objective.)
There was a pause. Tachibana tapped her pen. Kuramochi leaned back.
Then Miyuki’s voice shifted, just slightly. A quieter register. Like the sentence got away from him.
“But... he’s also loyal. Maybe to a fault.”
Tachibana looked up.
Miyuki frowned, eyes narrowing faintly like the thought annoyed him. “He’s... trustworthy,” he added, slower now. “More than most people I know.”
Kuramochi glanced over, eyebrows doing something irritating.
“He’s weirdly optimistic,” Miyuki went on, as if someone had pulled a string in his back. “The kind of person who always finds something to praise. Even when the world’s burning down.”
Which is, objectively speaking, delusional.
But also,
Kind of impressive?
Tachibana had stopped writing.
“He’s like fresh air,” Miyuki muttered, hating every second of it. “No fronts. No masks. What you see is what you get. He’s... transparent. And kind. Stupidly kind.”
Kuramochi’s eyes narrowed. His mouth opened slightly. Closed again.
Miyuki, regrettably, kept going.
“He’s childish, yeah. But also... charming? In this dumb, earnest way. Like, you want to root for him even when he messes up. Especially then.”
Tachibana blinked, caught off guard. Miyuki was rapidly destroying her expectations.
“He’s considerate. Reliable. Helpful. He’ll trip over his own feet trying to lift someone else up. Doesn’t know how to give up. He screws up and just keeps trying. Strongest person I know.”
Kuramochi sat back slowly. Oii... Miyuki, you're...
Miyuki’s voice had dropped to something softer now. Not performative. Not deflective. Just quietly, painfully honest.
“He’s respectful,” he said. “Hardworking. Devoted. Has boundless optimism. He's the kind of person who... gives everything. Puts himself on the line because he loves this team. Because he believes in it. In us. In me. He's-”
There it was. The thing he hadn’t meant to say.
He stopped. A little breathless.
Oh.
Oh no.
"Wow." Tachibana breathed.
He could feel it. The looming realization. A freight train of truth barreling through his very fragile scaffolding of denial.
Inspiring. Beautiful. Breathtaking.
Words he almost said out loud. Actual words. Real ones.
He cleared his throat violently, eyes flicking anywhere but at the people currently witnessing his personality dissolve like cotton candy in a puddle.
What the hell was that.
Why was he telling a literal stranger all of Sawamura’s best traits like he was submitting a nomination for Boyfriend of the Year?
He tried to justify it. It’s just captain stuff. Admiration. Normal human sentiment.
But his brain- the traitorous idiot, offered up a stat:
Statistically speaking, when a guy talks about another guy with this much detail, consistency, and obvious affection, it’s not a report.
It’s a crush.
Or a crisis.
Or both.
Miyuki’s mouth snapped shut like a mousetrap.
Kuramochi, sitting across, gave him a look that was equal parts “bro, what are you doing?” and “this is way more entertaining than math class.”
He smirked, teasingly slow. “Oi, Captain, didn’t know you were moonlighting as a poet now.”
Miyuki shot him a side-glare so sharp it could probably slice through steel.
Statistically speaking, Kuramochi was maybe 0.2 seconds from catching hands.
Tachibana blinked, still processing the unexpected honesty she’d just witnessed. She gave a sheepish smile, one that was part apology, part hope.
“Sorry if I made things awkward,” she said, pen tapping nervously on her notebook. “It’s just… you said so many genuinely good things about him. It’s kind of reassuring.”
Miyuki raised an eyebrow, unamused. “Reassuring?”
“Yeah,” she said, cheeks flushing a little. “I’ve had a bit of a crush on Sawamura-kun for a while now.”
Miyuki froze. Inside, his brain was flashing huge neon signs screaming: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
His stomach churned like he’d swallowed something sour and it was clawing its way up his throat.
He kept his face blank, but something in his chest twisted tight- sharp, sudden, unfamiliar.
He was loud, honest, and kind- the kind of person whose warmth was impossible to ignore. Even for someone like Miyuki, who had spent years perfecting emotional self-containment mostly by overthinking to the point of paralysis.
He looked away, jaw tightening, throat dry.
God, why did something so simple feel like quantum physics?
Of course someone like her would like Sawamura. Of course everyone did.
He could dissect the stats, analyze the emotions, reduce the whole thing to equations and probabilities…
But that knot in his chest? That wasn’t something numbers could solve.
He swallowed hard, forcing his voice back under control.
Kuramochi leaned forward, eyebrows raised, clearly reading the room.
Miyuki tried to ground himself. Tried to think logically.
Why was it that every time someone mentioned Sawamura, his chest twisted?
“I mean, I’ve heard great things about him. Everyone only ever says good things. But hearing it from someone who knows him personally? That makes me feel better.” She smiled nervously. “Like I’m not just admiring him from a distance with rose-tinted glasses.”
Miyuki looked away. His jaw locked. His throat suddenly felt dry, like he’d swallowed sand.
“I just…” she went on, with a shy laugh, “I’d like to get to know him a little better. You’re his captain and catcher, and people say you two are really close, so I thought maybe, if it’s not too much trouble, you could tell me more about him? Not for the article, of course. Just… personally.”
He froze. Eyes fixed on the desk.
Okay, breathe. It’s fine. This is fine.
He wanted to retreat to the safety of logic and stats, to classify this conversation under “Non-issues,” but his brain wasn’t cooperating. All the equations had dissolved into static.
He needed an out.
He wanted an out. Out, out, out. Preferably a dramatic one. Like spontaneous combustion.
Then-
“If you wanna know Sawamura personally,” Miyuki said, his voice snapping back into its usual smooth drawl, “you should ask Mochi-kun here.”
Tachibana blinked. “Really?”
Kuramochi’s head shot up. “Wait, wha-?”
“They’re roommates,” Miyuki added lazily, eyes half-lidded. “They call themselves the soulmates of Room 5.”
“Don’t drag me into this, asshole!” Kuramochi barked immediately.
“Soulmates~?” Tachibana echoed, her pen already poised, eyes sparkling with new gossip potential.
I just threw Kuramochi under the bus to avoid confessing that I liked a guy to a girl who just confessed to liking the very same guy that I’m pretending I don’t like, despite having already emotionally soft-launched him like a damn boyfriend in an interview not two minutes ago.
This is why I don’t talk to people.
Kuramochi nearly choked. “Why would you say it like that?! More like, like- cellmates!”
Tachibana gasped. “Really? That’s perfect!”
“No, no!” Kuramochi tried. “I mean, I do know the guy, sure, but-”
“Please help me out, Kuramochi-kun,” she pleaded, eyes wide. “You probably know all his habits and hobbies and favorite snacks! This is exactly what I was hoping for!”
Kuramochi stared at her. Then at Miyuki, who was so obviously pretending to find something interesting on the wall. He sighed deeply, shoulders sagging.
“...You owe me,” he muttered.
But Miyuki didn’t answer. He was already turned away, elbows on the desk, hands folded in front of his lips like he was pondering existence itself. His expression unreadable, his brain currently performing emotional calculus on zero sleep and negative coherence.
Great, he thought bitterly. I just turned Kuramochi into the team’s unofficial mascot. This is exactly why I can’t have nice things.
Kuramochi squinted at him, suspicion written all over his face.
And for the first time in a long while, Miyuki Kazuya looked like he’d actually said too much.
This wasn’t even a game. It was just feelings.
Which, statistically speaking, were the worst.
Kuramochi groaned, rubbing his head like he’d aged ten years. “Well… like this damn bastard said, he’s loud. Painfully loud. You think you’ve heard loud? No. You haven’t. This guy sleep-yells. Not sleep-talks. Sleep-yells.”
Tachibana blinked. “Wait, really?”
Kuramochi nodded, deadpan. “First week as roommates, I woke up at 2 a.m. to ‘STRIKE THREEEE!!!’ at full volume.”
Tachibana giggled behind her hand. “That sounds... intense.”
“You laugh now,” Kuramochi said darkly. “Try living with him. It’s like watching a National Geographic episode live. He once tried to sneak a stray cat into our room and almost got away with it. Coach caught him.”
Tachibana gasped. “A cat?!”
“Oh yeah. Claimed it ‘looked lonely.’ Built it a pillow fort in our closet.”
She visibly melted. “That’s… that’s adorable.”
“And get this,” Kuramochi added. “He still visits the cat. It got adopted by some family nearby, but he drops by, brings treats, chats with the owners like he’s the local uncle.”
She clutched her notebook. “He’s like... chaotic good personified.”
Kuramochi sighed, resigned. “Everyone thinks he’s a one-track baseball idiot, and, yeah, he is! But he’s got these weird side quests. Like, for one- he’s obsessed with manga.”
Tachibana’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? Like... romantic ones?”
“Oh yeah.” Kuramochi pinched the bridge of his nose. “And he gets so into it. The drama, the confessions, the misunderstandings, he storms into our room like it’s a crisis hotline. ‘Mochi, she confessed but he didn’t hear her!!! WHAT DO I DO?!’ Like I’m supposed to fix it.”
He’d never, never, come to him yelling about confessions.
...Not that Miyuki wanted him to. That would be weird.
Right?
Tch. It’s fine. It’s not like I care about being his emotional helpline. He probably thinks I’d make it weird. Which I wouldn’t. I could be very normal about it. Extremely normal. Hypercompetent emotional consultant, even. But sure. Go cry to Kuramochi about love triangles.
Tachibana burst out laughing. “He’s so, oh my god! That’s adorable.”
Miyuki’s jaw tightened.
Great. He’s adorable now. Confirmed by external sources.
External source that has a crush on my pitcher.
Statistically speaking, he had no right to feel territorial. But feelings, as it turned out, didn’t give a damn about stats.
“He gets overwhelmed if there are too many characters in a manga. Starts renaming them like he’s drafting a fantasy baseball team: ‘Glasses Guy,’ ‘Secret Prince,’ ‘Evil Senpai #2.’ I can’t even keep track.”
Tachibana was trying her best not to burst out laughing, which only made Miyuki want to throw something. Like, congratulations, Kuramochi, you just made my pitcher sound like a walking anime cliché. Fantastic.
“Oh, and he reads biographies,” Kuramochi went on, clearly on a roll. “Famous athletes, historical figures. He watches documentaries for fun. We were watching a quiz show once and he answered almost everything before the contestants. Why does he know what kind of ink was used in 17th-century letters? No clue. Why?!”
Tachibana whistled, impressed. “Really? I wouldn’t have guessed that.”
Miyuki’s eyes narrowed. Because of course Kuramochi knew this stuff like he was some trivia encyclopedia. Meanwhile, Miyuki was the catcher- the guy who had to memorize every tiny detail about Sawamura’s pitching mechanics but apparently not what flavor of protein bar he scarfed down after practice.
Great. Just great.
Kuramochi wasn’t done.
“Oh, and he’s weirdly good at Japanese literature. But his exam focus? Absolutely terrible. If he actually studied, he’d probably beat half the team.”
Tachibana looked genuinely surprised. “I thought he was bottom five.”
“Yeah, well, that’s because he forgets to hand in half his papers. I have to sneak them into his bag for him. Half the time.”
'What are you, a toddler mom?' Miyuki thought, but his chest still felt weirdly... tight.
Kuramochi wasn’t done playing character witness. “And he’s actually not bad at English. Keeps pestering me about slang. Like the other day, he explained what ‘down bad’ means. I had to Google it myself just to make sure he wasn’t bullshitting me.”
Tachibana chuckled. “So, he’s got layers, huh?”
Kuramochi smirked. “A walking onion. Total chaos on the outside, actual effort and substance underneath. But yeah, still an idiot.” He added that last bit with the kind of fond exasperation only a longtime victim could muster.
Miyuki didn’t laugh. Nope. He was too busy stewing in that delicious mix of irritation and jealousy.
He hadn’t even known Sawamura’s favorite subject. Kuramochi just dropped it like it was common knowledge. Like, anyone who actually knew Sawamura would know this.
Meanwhile, Miyuki had almost only ever seen Sawamura in baseball mode- practice, game, dugout. Always the pitch, the rhythm, the angles, the plans, the signals.
Not the trivia. Not this guy.
He’s my pitcher, Miyuki told himself, arms crossed like it might convince his brain.
He’s not mine.
He shouldn’t have to know what band Sawamura hums in the shower, or what dumb song he’s stuck on, or what dumb slang he doesn’t get.
And yet,
“His favorite band is Punch. That song Raiu Kekkou? He sings it every single morning. It’s catchy the first few times, then you wanna hurl something at him.”
"Don't lie, Mochi-kun~" Miyuki drawled, voice loose but eyes sharp. "I've seen you singing with him in the hallways, dragging poor Asada-kun into a full-on musical number."
He hadn't known that was his favorite song.
He'd heard him humming it before, multiple times in fact, but he didn’t know.
Statistically speaking, the average catcher didn’t need to know what song his pitcher sang in the shower. And yet, here he was. Deeply bitter. Borderline unwell.
Kuramochi flushed. “Shut up! No one asked you! It's hard not to get involved in his antics, okay?”
“Hahaah.”
“What a fake laugh!”
Tachibana beamed. “Thanks for that, Miyuki-kun. I'll make sure to add it when we get to Kuramochi-kun’s page.”
"Don't," Kuramochi said, horrified.
Tachibana blinked innocently. “Why not? It’s gold!”
"What did I get myself into..." Kuramochi muttered.
“By all means, continue,” Miyuki grinned, settling back, voice smooth again.
But his thoughts were tangled.
He should let it go.
He really should.
Yeah.
It’s fine. I’m normal about this.
Kuramochi threw a nasty look at him before pinching his nose and continuing.
“He wakes up early. Too early. And if he’s bored? Oh, he wakes me and Asada up just because he wants to talk. Like, ‘Mochi! Asada! Are you awake?! Let’s discuss our mental game strategy for the next week!’ Bro. It’s 4 a.m. Who even functions at that hour?”
Tachibana wheezed, “I would die.”
“Yeah, same,” Kuramochi agreed, voice dripping with sympathy. “Actually, he likes to bother Miyuki in the morning. Drags this idiot to the bullpen first thing.” He shot a scowl at the wall like it personally betrayed him. Then smirked. “Well, he’s got a new target now. Okumura doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into.”
Miyuki looked away, because yeah, that definitely sounded like a ‘not my problem’ situation.
Kuramochi slumped back “Huh… What else…”
Tachibana piped up, all curious. “What about his hobbies? Anything specific?”
Kuramochi blinked. “Huh… Wrestling. But he’s trash at sparring. All heart, zero form.”
Miyuki snorted a little too quickly. “Don’t you mean you like wrestling?”
Kuramochi looked at him like, Really? You’re gonna jump in now? You're not subtle at all, bastard. Miyuki wisely avoided his gaze.
Statistically speaking, if he heard one more adorable detail about that idiot's life from someone else’s mouth, Miyuki was going to rebrand entirely and move to the mountains. Or take a vow of silence. Whichever had less vulnerability.
“You guys spar in the dorm?” Tachibana asked, surprised.
“No, those two do.” Miyuki said, pointing at Kuramochi. “More like Kuramochi slams Sawamura into headlocks until the poor guy taps out.”
“He’s just bad at it,” Kuramochi muttered, as if that explained everything.
“More like you’re using him as a punching bag for all your bad energy,” Miyuki cut in, tone just sharp enough to make you flinch.
“Shut up!” Kuramochi snapped, grabbing Miyuki by the shirt like he was about to start a wrestling match right then and there.
“Ok, calm down!” Tachibana laughed, clearly entertained. “I’ll let you two settle this after the interview. Now, Kuramochi-kun, back to business. His interests?”
Kuramochi rolled his eyes so hard it was audible. “Baseball. Obviously.”
Tachibana smiled, undeterred.
“Uh, Sawamura’s big into music,” Kuramochi added, like he just remembered this tidbit mid-sentence. “Got that from his dad. Apparently, his old man wanted to be a rockstar. Taught Eijun guitar and drums. And I hate to say it, but… the guy’s actually good. I’ve seen some videos of him playing back home.”
“Seriously?” Tachibana lit up.
“Dead serious. Has rhythm. Which is wild, considering he runs like a wind-up toy on its last spring.”
Tachibana laughed, delighted. “That’s kinda cool.”
Miyuki stilled.
Guitar and drums? Since when? Since when had that been a thing?
He hadn’t known that. Not even a whisper. And apparently there were videos. Visual evidence. Which meant people had seen them. People who were not him.
Kuramochi rattled on like he was reading out of a fan blog. Miyuki, meanwhile, was entertaining increasingly violent thoughts involving duct tape and Kuramochi’s mouth.
Statistically speaking, watching someone else talk about the person you maybe-kind-of-definitely liked shouldn’t feel like getting benched in your own damn life.
Emotionally? He was already halfway off the field.
“He plays shogi,” Kuramochi added, casual as anything. “Taught by his grandpa. He’s scary good. I’ve never beaten him. Not once.”
Tachibana’s eyes widened. “You’re good though, right?”
Kuramochi nodded. “Yeah. But the guy’s a beast. Reads five moves ahead.”
Miyuki’s jaw twitched.
Yuki-senpai had once called him the best shogi player in the dorm. Him. Miyuki Kazuya. Seido’s calculating, cold-blooded, smug-bastard tactician.
And yet, apparently, Sawamura Eijun, human airhorn, secret music prodigy, also happened to be some kind of shogi savant? With a mysterious chessmaster grandpa?
How had he never known this? How had none of this ever come up?
They literally sat in the same dugout every day. Talked strategy. Shared signals. Occasionally suffered through group study.
But this? Nothing?
Sawamura had played shogi all this time and just never mentioned it? Not even a single “Hey, Miyuki Kazuya, wanna play a game?” Not even a grin over beating Masashi?
The silence was almost… pointed. Personal.
Miyuki felt something cold twist beneath his ribs. Not quite jealousy, not quite heartbreak- just the specific ache of realizing you weren’t as close to someone as you thought you were.
Or worse: that maybe you’d never bothered to ask.
“He loves his grandpa,” Kuramochi added. “Old guy’s like ninety, still travels all the way from Nagano to see him pitch. And Eijun just… lights up. Calls him his hero and everything. I can’t even make fun of him for it.”
Tachibana smiled, clearly charmed.
Miyuki’s fingers tapped once against the desk, then stopped.
Grandfather. From Nagano. Hero. Of course, Miyuki had seen the old man before. it was hard to miss him when he made sure he was present for every single important match. But he didn't know that Sawamura was apparently that attached to his grandpa.
He didn’t know that. Never heard him talk about it.
He'd assumed it was like his own relationship- very much attached to his family, but seemingly personal about it.
But apparently, when he does talk about it, it’s obvious. Misty-eyed obvious. The kind of thing you’d only know if you were... close.
“He’s all about family,” Kuramochi went on. “Drops everything if his mom or grandpa calls. Learned to cook from his mom. But he can’t bake for shit.”
She laughed so hard she had to pause. “No way!”
There was a twisting ache curling up under his ribs, something thin and sharp.
He’s not hiding it, Miyuki reasoned. He just never brought it up. He probably thought it was boring. Or not relevant. Or...
Not something he wanted to share with me.
Small pieces of information about his own damn battery partner- Kuramochi had rattled them off like it was nothing. Like he’d been collecting them for years and hadn’t even needed to try.
And Miyuki? What did he have?
He knew Sawamura’s fastball had an almost imperceptible right-hand dip when he was overexerting his shoulder. He knew the exact frame timing to minimize Eijun’s stride misalignment. He knew his rhythm, his tempo, his insecurities about being overshadowed by Furuya.
He knew the pitcher.
But not the person.
Wasn’t that supposed to be enough?
Shouldn’t it be enough?
Why wasn’t it enough?
He was the catcher. He was supposed to understand Sawamura better than anyone else. That was the whole point, wasn’t it?
The catcher knows the pitcher best.
They read each other. Anticipate each other. Catch the ball and the person.
But right now, all Miyuki could hear were the gaps.
Gaps in memory. Gaps in knowledge. Gaps he hadn’t even realized existed.
Kuramochi got 4 a.m. mental strategy talks. Okumura got morning bullpen sessions.
And Miyuki?
He leaned back in his chair, glasses slipping down as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
He could rationalize this. He could.
As open as Sawamura seemed, he was also very much private, in weird ways. Not everyone got the same sides of him. That was normal. That was fine. Not everyone was meant to know everything.
And Miyuki didn’t need to know those things.
Right?
Right?
…
God, he was such a disaster.
Kuramochi was his roommate, sure, but that didn’t make it sting any less. Miyuki was supposed to know those things.
He was supposed to be the one who saw every side of Eijun.
Not Tachibana.
Not anyone else.
When he finally refocused, Kuramochi was still talking, still pulling Sawamura trivia like he was giving a TED Talk.
“He’s chaos, alright,” Kuramochi muttered. “Still talks to all his middle school friends, too. Has a group chat. But he’s terrible at texting. You’ll probably only hear from him once a month. But once he decides you’re in his life, you’re just... in. No takebacks.”
“He sounds amazing,” Tachibana said warmly.
Kuramochi scowled. “Sure. If you say so.”
Miyuki didn’t look at her.
He couldn’t.
He didn’t speak for the rest of the conversation. Didn’t need to.
Not when everything Kuramochi said carved out new spaces Miyuki hadn’t filled. Not when every memory, every offhand comment, every casual anecdote confirmed one very clear, very inconvenient truth:
He wasn’t the one who knew Eijun best.
Statistically speaking, Miyuki had a higher chance of hitting a 160 km/h fastball with a twig than of surviving this interview with his dignity intact.
And for someone who’d been there since day one, who caught every pitch, stood behind every inning, memorized every hitch in that wind-up...
That shouldn’t have stung.
But it did.
More than he’d ever admit.
Even to himself.
And maybe that was fine. Maybe it was better that way.
After all, it wasn’t his job to memorize every piece of Sawamura Eijun.
He was just his catcher. Just the guy who caught for him. Used to.
Nothing more.
Nothing... less.
Right?
He wasn’t the one who knew Eijun best.
Fine. Cool. Whatever.
Kuramochi could have his little cat stories. His dorm gossip. His… wrestling lore.
Miyuki didn’t care. Why would he care?
(Statistically speaking, a person who repeated “I don’t care” more than three times per internal monologue was 89% lying. Miyuki was on his fifth. Probably.)
So what if he didn’t know Sawamura liked shogi, or historical documentaries. He wasn’t writing a dating profile. He was a catcher. He knew the important things.
Pitch types. Finger tension. Heart rate pacing. Breathing patterns. Emotional control under pressure. Real data.
That was intimacy. That was synergy. That was sports-based emotional connection.
(Was that a thing? He was making it a thing.)
He didn’t need to know what Sawamura’s favorite band was. Or that he cried over shoujo manga. Or that he sneak-rescued cats and built them pillow forts like some emotionally advanced Studio Ghibli protagonist.
...Okay, that last one was a little cute.
But still. Unimportant. Frivolous. Useless trivia.
He was above that.
…Right?
...
Then again, how was he supposed to know all that stuff, huh?
He didn’t live with Sawamura. He wasn’t in Room 5. He wasn’t in their group chat. He wasn’t baking cookies at 2 a.m. or watching battle reenactments while tying friendship bracelets or whatever cursed bonding rituals they had going on in there.
He was the responsible one.
He was busy.
With…
Important things.
He was definitely not sitting alone in his room sometimes, wondering what Eijun’s laugh sounded like when he wasn’t yelling. Or what his handwriting looked like. Or whether he liked summer festivals or hated fireworks. Or whether he ever wanted to dye his hair someday, or just said that for attention, or if he ever thought about-
(He was.)
Nope. Not doing this. Not spiraling. Not embarrassing. Moving on.
Miyuki folded his arms like that would physically keep the bitterness in.
Kuramochi was still talking. Tachibana was still laughing.
Meanwhile, Miyuki sat there. High-level athlete, draft prospect, ex-captain, emotional dumbass, just stewing in his loser corner, getting upstaged by a shogi-playing, cat-saving, chaos-powered human sunbeam with no boundaries.
Statistically speaking, this was unbelievable.
The interview ended without him realizing it. Chairs scraped. Papers rustled. Kuramochi made some sarcastic quip that had Tachibana laughing again.
Miyuki didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
“You good, Captain?” Kuramochi asked, finally noticing.
Miyuki blinked. “Yeah,” he lied, voice even. “Just thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself,” Kuramochi snorted. But he was watching Miyuki with narrowed eyes.
Miyuki stood, adjusting his glasses.
Too late, he didn’t say.
Notes:
What should the title be? Tachibana Sayuri? Or Kuramochi Youichi? Cuz after a point, it gets really unclear who Miyuki is jealous of lmao.
So remember how when Miyuki is about to leave for the All-Stars game, and Satoru and Eijun visit him in his class with Hi-Chews? You can hear some girls in the back talking about our idiot pitchers. And one of the girls seemingly knows all about Eijun's stats from the Hakuryuu game, and another girl teases her, 'You know all about him.'
In my head, that girl who knows Eijun's stats is Tachibana Sayuri :D
Everyone say Thank You Sayuri because girl was indirectly the push our idiot captain needed to at least admit his own feelings out loud. Almost. A small step for us but a giant leap for him.
Also, for the record: Miyuki does know things about Eijun. Its just he's a pining idiot in denial atm.
like,kuramochi knows like 3 bits of info more than him:
miyuki: ok so statistically speaking my world is ending and i wanna die and maybe cry before i get to it NOT THAT ITS BOTHERING ME OR ANYTHINGmochi: *didnt want to get involved in the first place*
miyuki: *throws him under the bus anyways*
mochi: *does what myk wanted him to do*
miyuki: dude i hate uDramatic much? Miyuki doesn't have an 'oh, OH' moment; but an 'oh, OH NO' moment.
like brotha, eijun hangs out in ur room all day long 😒 maybe ur not in room 5 but with gossip!mochi you practically get updates anyway🤷♀️watchu jealous of TT
Pages Navigation
PhoenixNinja101 on Chapter 1 Thu 25 Jan 2024 09:26PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jan 2024 06:54AM UTC
Comment Actions
s_eijun1fan on Chapter 1 Thu 25 Jan 2024 11:20PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jan 2024 06:58AM UTC
Comment Actions
PikaPower99 on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jan 2024 01:02AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jan 2024 07:05AM UTC
Comment Actions
Persious23 on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jan 2024 04:19AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jan 2024 07:08AM UTC
Comment Actions
Persious23 on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Jan 2024 07:15AM UTC
Comment Actions
Ei_chan on Chapter 2 Wed 31 Jan 2024 11:42AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 2 Thu 01 Feb 2024 09:31AM UTC
Comment Actions
fanficnewbiee on Chapter 2 Wed 31 Jan 2024 07:39PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 2 Thu 01 Feb 2024 09:33AM UTC
Comment Actions
PikaPower99 on Chapter 2 Thu 01 Feb 2024 04:00AM UTC
Last Edited Thu 01 Feb 2024 04:29AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 2 Thu 01 Feb 2024 09:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
Fuyu217 on Chapter 2 Fri 02 Feb 2024 02:11AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 2 Fri 02 Feb 2024 04:59PM UTC
Comment Actions
Keii22 on Chapter 2 Sat 03 Feb 2024 02:45PM UTC
Comment Actions
LunarBabe on Chapter 2 Sat 11 May 2024 10:48PM UTC
Comment Actions
Kirasuke on Chapter 2 Sun 29 Sep 2024 03:20PM UTC
Comment Actions
joyouslee on Chapter 3 Sat 11 Oct 2025 07:37PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 3 Thu 16 Oct 2025 02:15PM UTC
Comment Actions
EveryNightmare on Chapter 3 Sat 11 Oct 2025 08:49PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 3 Thu 16 Oct 2025 02:15PM UTC
Comment Actions
yeehawfam on Chapter 3 Sat 11 Oct 2025 11:00PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 3 Thu 16 Oct 2025 02:16PM UTC
Comment Actions
RedRubyRose on Chapter 3 Sun 12 Oct 2025 01:35AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 3 Thu 16 Oct 2025 02:21PM UTC
Comment Actions
Rumcity on Chapter 3 Sun 12 Oct 2025 03:30AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 3 Thu 16 Oct 2025 02:28PM UTC
Comment Actions
radioaktivecupcake on Chapter 3 Sun 12 Oct 2025 05:06AM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 3 Thu 16 Oct 2025 02:29PM UTC
Comment Actions
Rumcity on Chapter 4 Sun 19 Oct 2025 06:04PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 4 Mon 20 Oct 2025 05:16AM UTC
Comment Actions
RedRubyRose on Chapter 4 Sun 19 Oct 2025 09:23PM UTC
Comment Actions
Mocheetah on Chapter 4 Mon 20 Oct 2025 05:28AM UTC
Comment Actions
luckynumberSEVEN on Chapter 4 Mon 20 Oct 2025 06:55AM UTC
Comment Actions
Pages Navigation