The Way to a Man's Stomach

Prologue

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The diamond was on fire that day (like all days); sweat painting the dirty boys' faces, baseball caps hitched high on burning eyebrows, and the grass furling up every time the Nishiura Nine took great leaps to get the ball.

The summer spell had been nothing but trouble to the boys—it constantly haunted them, sun burn stinging their skin, their hair burning hot and their energy being replaced by sudden laziness and thirst.

But the weather was the least of Hanai's, the captain, problems. Today, his main problem was trying to get Nishiura to stop lazing off-- especially since the Summer Tournament was just around the corner. It was bad enough that the whole team had to lay off days of practice for the examinations-- but with the weather now fighting against them, it was worse.

But nothing was as problematic as his current dilemma—Tajima.

He was probably the worst problem today.

---

… The windup, and the pitch. The ball flew high, right down the aisle, aimed for the mitt.

… And the catcher wasn't looking.

"Tajima! Watch out!"

From the mound came a yell, and the fuzzy-haired head looked up a split-second late. A loud thwack! came as the ball forcefully bounced off Tajima's helmet, knocking the short, confused and previously squatting boy to fall back into the scorching ground next to home plate.

A surprised Hanai scrambled to his side, a worried look on his face. "Tajima!" He knelt down next to the dazed boy, "Tajima! Hey! You okay?!" The instant Hanai's pitch crashed into Tajima's helmet the fifth time that day, he knew something was wrong…

The catcher slurred as he sat up, a little perplexed, "Hah…nai?" He rubbed his head, as if he didn't expect the ball to hit him at all—as if he didn't know that he was practicing at all.

… Something was wrong with Tajima.

Abe jogged to the two from the dug-out, with a nasty look on his face, "What was that, Tajima?! That was the fifth time today you spaced out!" He started sternly; his professional catcher aura kicking in (the scary-professional-catcher aura). "You're supposed to be paying attention!" Nishiura's regular catcher was obviously frustrated, seeing the only relief catcher not doing his job.

"Sorry…"

Abe sighed exasperatedly, rubbing the sweat off his forehead, "It's okay. Just…" A hundred things could have been said. Like, 'get off the floor', 'get back to work', 'stop daydreaming', but he felt pity?

… After all, he knew something was wrong with him, too.

Then Mihashi came bounding in, panting a few stammered, "Ta-ji-ma! A-are you alright?" He fell down next to him, "Are you hurt?"

Tajima glanced at him, and gave him a weak smile through the cage of his helmet.

… Tajima.

And soon, the whole team bordered next to him.

… They all noticed that something was wrong with him.

Coach Momoe stood the tallest among all the squatting players next to Tajima, "Are you feeling well, Tajima?" She lifted the catcher's helmet off him as the back of her hand felt its way up his forehead, to check for a fever, "You don't seem… into it today."

Which everyone found odd. Tajima had always been the only one who was hyped to stay under the sun for three hours. Always. No one's enthusiasm could match his. He needed baseball like he needed air.

And he was perfectly fine this morning. He was the first one at the diamond, in fact, he was yelling at everyone to get their lazy butts outside for practice.

… Was he still breathing?

"Do you feel sick?" Sakaeguchi offered, his hands on his knees as he bent forward in front of him. Tajima sat, unmoving, and silent—like he turned into… (a PMS-ing) Abe.

Nishihiro chimed in, "Maybe it's a heat stroke?"

Izumi looked up at Nishihiro from his seat next to Mizutani, and a groan erupted from his thin frown, "Don't say that! He's playing the game on Sunday!"

Mizutani gave a sad sigh, "Against that Tosei team." The name rolled off his tongue like a cursed word. It was really a cursed word. Such a great team. Next, next Sunday. Yes, even though two weeks, considerably, is quite some time...

… Oh no.

Oki folded his arms, "C'mon, guys! No way Tajima would let some heat get to him!"

Suyama glanced at the sky for a moment, and his eyes burned when the sun winked at him. He murmured cryptically (and rather unhelpfully), "The weatherman said that the weather would get worse…"

… The heat got to Tajima.

… The heat got to the team.

Abe's frown deepened, "Tajima, are you worried about our game with Tosei?"

A long silence, Tajima did nothing. Just sitting there, looking at the wilted grass, his short bangs obscuring his eyes with a shadow. Was he embarrassed to say he was afraid of Tosei? Everyone answered the question themselves, although quietly in their heads, as if they were being asked by Abe.

… Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

Suddenly, everyone felt worried.

And one glance at their third baseman and relief catcher, and they felt even more worried—he's the baseball prodigy here!

But Tajima just SAT there—like he didn't care that Abe was still waiting for his answer; like he didn't care that the whole team would be affected by just one monosyllable. He just sat, with his hand on his stomach—where it lay, rising and falling with the slow drag of his breathing.

His eyes darkened, and he looked absolutely powerless. And that was all that there was to it.

… What happened to him?

… Was he worried?

If he was worried—if he, THE Tajima, was worried about the game—then how were the others supposed to feel?

… Powerless.

Silence, the birds chirped their happy song as their Monday practice rolled by ever so slowly in silence (and in complete worry).

"D-don't worry! W-we'll beat them!"

Mihashi reddened, and fumbled with his hands in his lap. Why was everybody staring at him? He meant to say that to Tajima, not to all of them.

Mihashi's words of encouragement made Izumi's mouth twitch into a smile, "We can do this, we shouldn't be uneasy."

"We shouldn't be scared!" Mizutani added, laughing, "Those Tosei people are probably all wusses!"

"I-I'm sure everyone will d-do a great job!" Mihashi nodded at them both.

Hanai put a hand on Tajima's shoulder, "We're a team. If we work together," He paused, examining the unusually quiet boy sitting with his shoulders slumped forward and gaze cast downwards, "We won't be—"

The catcher groaned, all of a sudden.

An alarm bell furiously rings in Hanai's head as he feels the tremors splicing through Tajima's shoulders

Red, yellow and white. It spilled out of his mouth in a rapid wave. Violent coughing. The stale smell of food lingered in the air as everybody held back a shout and covered their mouths.

Mihashi stared at his friend with a pure look of horror. He whimpered and backed up until he felt Abe's tall legs behind him. "A-Abe!" He clings to the hand that's been lowered to cover his eyes from seeing anything. Abe didn't want him to see the writhing and the tsunamis that had colors that reminded him of the Japanese flag. No, he wasn't going to let Mihashi see this happen.

Coach Momoe ran back to the dug-out, "Shin'ooka! Call the hospital immediately! Sakaeguchi and Mizutani, get towels! Nishihiro, give him some water!" Coach started ordering them around, expecting her boys to do exactly what their coach said.

"Izumi, go to the gate, so when the ambulance comes—"

Tajima spilled another wave, and Coach Momoe snapped her head at the others still around him, "Hanai, Abe, I need you boys to help Tajima inside the club house!"

But Hanai stayed, even as Abe and Mihashi got up and started yanking on his arms.

"Tajima?! What's wrong?!" Hanai stuck by Tajima's side as his friend's lunch spilled all over his arms. His hands stayed wrapped around Tajima, nevertheless.

"Tajima?! Wh-what's happening to you?!"

… He worked him too hard.

Abe growled at Hanai, "Hanai, c'mon, get a move on!" He grabbed Tajima's arm, and slung it around his shoulders.

"Tajima! G-Get up! You're okay, aren't you?!"

… He worked him too hard.

Mihashi pleaded, eyes watering at the sight of his friend… dying, "Ha-Hanai! We… we have to get him inside!"

… For hours. Days. Weeks.

… To win.

… Just to win.

"Hanai, MOVE!"

Red.

"Ha-Hanai!"

Yellow.

… This is all his fault.

White.

Tajima's eyes rolled white as Abe successfully got to yank Hanai off him.

"Tajima! What's…!"

And then Tajima fell, for the sixth time that day, in an ocean of vomit. With his hands clutching his stomach and an extremely pained look painted on his usually cheery face.

"—wrong!?"

… This is all his fault.

---

"Mom, I'm home."

The shick! of the sliding door woke Mrs. Hanai from her nostalgic reverie. She whirled around, hand still on the whisk, "Hi, Azusa!" And she slightly turned her wrist, and the egg batter fluffed up in the mixing bowl.

"Well, you're early! What happened to practice today?" Mrs. Hanai checked the wall clock and found that her son was 3 hours earlier than usual.

"Coach wanted us to ease off a bit, since we've been practicing for so long this week."

… And she thought that it would be good if they could visit Tajima today.

"That's good to hear."

Hanai came through the door, dropping his gym bag on the floor and taking off his baseball cap. He gave a satisfied whiff as he smelt cupcakes baking in the oven. "Why are you baking?" The tall captain looked around, as if expecting guests to be sitting on the chairs of the small living room.

He glanced hopefully at his mother.

… Maybe he could do something.

He glanced at the cupcakes.

… Visit Tajima.

… With cupcakes.

"Oh, no reason, really, Azusa, sweetie" With her hair tied messily up a bun, and the flour-padded apron, she appeared to have been working the whole afternoon. "Do you want some? The batch in the oven is almost done." She asked, wondering if her words were too rehearsed.

She laid the bowl of batter down on the also flour-stained table, and delightfully patted herself on the back for a job well done—she never could get her son to talk more than five sentences to her in one day. She just knew the cupcakes would strike up a longer conversation than the usual 'how was practice?' routine.

The hopefulness in Hanai's eyes glinted, "Can I have five?"

… For Tajima.

"Of course, sweetie."

Hanai, even though he obviously put off with the first-name basis plus 'sweetie', happily grinned at his mother, "Thanks mom."

… Tajima thanks you, too.

He left his bento box on the table as he cleared out his things in his gym bag. Mrs. Hanai felt fulfilled when she lifted the empty lunchbox into the sink, "Why do you want five cupcakes, sweetie? You seemed to have finished your lunch…" She started, "You're still a growing boy, aren't you, Azusa?"

Her son absentmindedly shrugged at her as he seized his prize, "Yeah, maybe." The baking tray was still hot when he held it with mitts, just like the weather. (Although, it didn't bother him as much as the weather did.)

"You usually don't finish your lunch, so you must still be growing," She stared lovingly at her son who was fussing over the tray full of cupcakes being hot. Her son sent another shrug her way, and Mrs. Hanai started realizing how the topic was going—it was heading downhill and out of the park. At the rate she was going, their conversation would be gone—like a homerun that can't be caught.

She had to do something fast.

"Or," She pretended to smile knowingly, "you share it with someone at school."

And by the way Hanai jumped up at the out of the blue claim, she knew that their conversation would last just a little bit longer. (And maybe, if she were sadistic enough, a little funnier.)

"With a girl?" She smiled, realizing completely that by her adding that, he might just turn away and leave.

But who can HONESTLY resist?

"What made you think that, mom?" His back was still turned to her, hiding his reddened face, "I get hungry, too, you know."

Hanai suddenly turned hostile when his mother asked why he was taking five cupcakes with him and putting them into a container.

… Um.

"… Well… I do like this girl…" He wasn't sharing his lunch with a girl—he was just making sure that what happened to Tajima wouldn't happen to him! And THESE cupcakes weren't for a girl, either! These were for TAJIMA.

And the squeal behind him told him that he just tricked his mother into thinking he liked a girl. He just didn't want to tell his mom that he was doing all this for Tajima. (His mom already found it too suspicious that ten BOYS all bathe in the SAME bathroom after practice.)

But then, his mom knew his son wasn't like that. Of course not. She blamed the media for putting such thoughts in her head. Her son wasn't like that, no matter what the media said.

… And he WASN'T like that—he was doing this for a friend.

… And it just so happens that this friend is a guy.

"Who is it, sweetie? Someone I know?"

"Sorry mom, it's… um… a secret..." He offered lamely, but he insisted on leaving it at that. Of course, his mom still pried ("But Azusa, sweetie!—"), but he left it at that. And his mom, obviously not in the mood for the conversation to drop, stopped prying.

… Of course he would completely trick his mother for a friend.

… Of course, of course.

"I… I need to go somewhere." He glanced at the clock, 5:23 pm. He honestly did care that he would be letting his mother down by deceiving her like this, but he also did care for Tajima.

Besides. There are many girls who would just love to date the captain of the Nishiura Baseball team—if his mom ever felt curious.

Right now, these cupcakes were needed by Tajima.

"Huh? So fast, Azusa?" His mother looked absolutely heartbroken and her tone was begging for more juicy, falsedetails about this imaginary GIRL he liked.

"Yeah."

"Wait, what time will you come home?"

"It's a Friday, mom…" Hanai's only excuse to stay over long enough to make sure Tajima was doing just fine.

… Please take the excuse!

"Seven o' clock?"

And at that, Hanai actually shook his head, "Eight?" And his mom nodded happily.

... Yes!

His mother, completely oblivious to the real plan, beamed once more, "My goodness!" She cooed, blushing, "My Azusa! My Azusa has a girlfriend! Can you believe it?!" She happily whisked around the batter in the bowl, humming sweetly.

… You shouldn't believe.

After putting the chocolate-cream cupcakes in a Tupperware (and ignoring his mom's several side comments about this 'girl' he liked), he was ready to go—he didn't bother putting on anything nice. After all, it was just the hospital downtown.

But his mother DISAPPROVED.

"Azusa, honey, are you going to go like that?"

"Like what, mom?" He mumbled, left hand reaching for the doorknob, with the paper bag filled with cupcakes in his right hand.

"In those dirty clothes?" She advanced toward him, her hands akimbo and her eyes plotting something. "Have you bathed?"

Hanai stared at her, incredulously, as he thought, 'Oh, please, no.'

He backed away slowly, by reflex.

"Come on," She started tugging on his arm, and despite his height, she managed to drag him along, "We're going to choose your outfit."

"I… Oh—no! No! It's okay, mom! I'm sure I'll be fine going like this!"

"No! No, Azusa! One of the best ways to impress a girl is by your style of dressing—"

"Yes, but she…," He quickly continued, "loves sloppy guys who don't wash!"

… Of course she does.

"Azusa, Azusa, Azusa," She wagged a finger at him, "you should know better not to lie to your mother! And I'm a woman, as well! I know perfectly that NO girl can stand the stench of… " She scanned her son with her eyes, sending a shiver down his back thinking about what she might be thinking.

"But MOM—"

"No buts!"

Shick! and the door to Hanai's doom (closet), was opened.

"B-BUT!"

---

Hanai's mom wasn't the only one he fooled that night.

When he strode from his house to the hospital, he had probably fooled all the people on the street into thinking that he was going on a date.

Hanai and date didn't connect— and he REPEATS, DIDN'T connect! Not in a sentence, not in speech, not in thought…

… Not in reality.

But when he strolled down from his humble, Japanese-style house to the hospital downtown, reality seemed to actually dissipate.

He wore a crisp, unwrinkled white shirt and dark jeans that complimented his rather darkened skin. His Italian leather shoes tapped against the sidewalk as he turned heads—women, young girls, and on some occasions, boys his age.

Not to mention the bouquet.

Full of poppies.

… POPPIES.

Not only did having to wear such fancy clothes make the teen feel awkward, but also having guys STARE at him from all over the street was… just…

… Unspeakably awkward.

And when the people looked at the bouquet in his arms, they all start glaring at them because they all realize—he's taken!

But he isn't!

He was NEVER taken.

By ANYBODY.

…This was all his mother's plotting.

… But then again, if he had just said the truth…

Hanai suddenly wanted throw himself into to the nearest alley, fling all the gaudy clothes off him, stomp the poppies into mush and march into the hospital, and give Tajima his cupcakes.

-- At least then, he wouldn't have to worry about stalkers, or frenzied fan boys.

But then, that would leave him naked then, wouldn't it?

… Decisions, decisions.

He was, in a simple way, bashfully frustrated with everything—with his outfit, with all the stalker-like boys and girls, with his mother…

… with Tajima for being sick.

He found himself, even more so bashfully frustrated when he entered the hospital doors and had to deal with the young lady at the counter staring at him with goo-goo eyes.

---

Thus explains why Hanai only visited Tajima on Fridays and only Fridays.

And how GLAD he was when Tajima was finally released from the hospital! Now the Captain needn't to worry about anything! No more suits, no more cupcakes with icing hearts on them. No more roses or poppies (or what ever they're called!) wrapped up in pink ribbon to be delivered to room 59 on the 3rd floor. And, most importantly, NO MORE (unhappily and sourly) watching Tajima (and other frequent visitors like Abe, Izumi and Mizutani) laugh at him and think of ridiculous things to say to him ("Oh, you're so sweet, Azusa-chan!" and so on.)

... Except how to explain to his loving mom that he... apparently, broke up with his... er, girlfriend. And that no, he didn't need anymore cupcakes, and yes, that he's perfectly FINE without her (him!)

But in reality, in the coming future, no one, not even the Captain himself would have thought that they'd end up together-- and under the weirdest circumstances, too!; because of his... bento box!

---

TBC

8D Get it? Room 59? Five and Nine?

-- No, I'm not talking about Hayato Gokudera here. XD