Summary: When it's clear that Chris' help isn't enough to help Eijun get over the yips, Miyuki must overstep his own boundaries in order to help Eijun recover. It's a path paved with bumps and setbacks, but both do whatever it takes to get Eijun to heal, a process which inexplicably draws them closer together and to each other.

About a year later, life should, by all means, be perfect. Kazuya has graduated and been offered a position to play on a US team, Sawamura has become the ace and rumours about early offers are spreading. Except that Kazuya can't be happy because life is pulling him into two different directions; he has to ask himself which is more important, a life-long dream or keeping Sawamura by his side?

All this questioning about choices comes to an abrupt end when Kazuya is involved in a near fatal car accident - and he suddenly only has one choice to make.

Is it a life worth living, when all he has seems lost?

When you try your best, but you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired, but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

"Sometimes you make choices in life and sometimes choices make you."
- Gayle Foreman, 'If I Stay'

"No way. You cheated."

"You wish!"

"…fine then. What do you want?"

"Hmm…"

"Hurry up already."

"Hey! I won, don't rush me. I need to savour this moment for as long as I can."

"Sawamura…"

"Haha, okay, okay. What do I want…I want…"

The alarm rings and Kazuya blearily opens his eyes. It takes him a moment to move while his brain slowly catches up to his state of wakefulness. It's a moment filled with blissful oblivion despite the incessant blearing right next to his ear. Sleep still clouds his mind, the last echoes of a familiar scene flashing from behind the closing veil of dreams.

Then the memory of bright laughter rings louder than the alarm and Kazuya groans, finally reaching out to shut it off. Throwing one arm over his face, he lies motionless for a little longer but any signs of restfulness have fled. Usually, the silence would be a relief but not today. Today of all days is possible the worst time to remember.

Kazuya's chest throbs.

A little later, he yawns widely as he hauls a suitcase down the stairs. It's still dark outside though he supposes that doesn't say much for this time of the year. Kazuya's father finishes off his cup of black coffee before setting the mug down on the kitchen counter, murmuring a sleepy good morning in his direction. Kazuya makes a mental note to tell him to clean up after himself; after all, he won't be able to do the house chores once he's gone. Then he remembers that he's lived at the dorms for the past three years. Surely Kazuya's father knows how to take care of himself.

Does he?

Kazuya doesn't ask.

Outside, they spend a good 15 minutes scratching ice off the car. It's cold out, as is to be expected, but he tells himself to hurry because the faster they're done, the sooner they can get into the car and turn on the heating.

By the time the car is ready to go, the sun is starting to peek out from between darkened alleyways and glancing across rooftops. It sets spots of ice on fire, turning them into liquid gold and lending a surreal, warm glow to a snowy dawn.

It should make Kazuya feel at least a little warmer but all it does is intensify the throbbing in his heart.

The quiet was unsettling.

It wasn't that Eijun hated the quiet; he could be very still if chose to be, even if none of his teammates believed him whenever he said it, save for Haruichi. No, the reason he was restless now was because it was too quiet.

It was that kind of late at night when nothing but the occasional stirrings of hot summer wind and some cicadas could be heard singing their song. If he strained his ears, he could maybe make out the distant wailing of an ambulance or the faint roar of a flight engine of an airplane passing by above them.

It wasn't enough to drown out the memory of his failure, playing like a broken record inside Eijun's head. That feeling of wrongness when the ball had left his fingertips. That sickening sound of impact with Shirakawa's helmet; a mix between a solid thud and loud crunching, though he tried to rationalise that the latter must have been from where Shirakawa had slid his feet across the red earth.

Red.

So much red. Red hair, red earth, red anguish and anger, red creeping in from the corners of Eijun's vision until everything was coloured varying shades of fear and blood. Everything between then and Seidou's loss was blurred but they connected together through a bright red thread, emerging from Eijun's heart and pointing at the scoring board in accusation.

Eijun blinked up at the bottom of Kuramochi's bunk, finely tuned ears picking up on near silent sounds of movements. It felt strange, to hear it so amplified, making him scrunch up his eyebrows in confusion. Well, why not try to unravel the mystery of why it was so unusually quiet? Since he couldn't sleep anyway and anything was better than thinking about…that.

Another noise, barely there and gone before it could register properly, grabbed his attention. Eijun turned his head sideways, catching a glimpse of the bunkbed across from his. It was too dark to see, but even so he knew that Masuko occupied one of the bunks.

It wouldn't be long before he moved out…before he was gone, just like the other third years…

He swallowed, blinking. No. He didn't want to cry. Distraction, distraction.

Why was it so quiet?

His eyes slid sideways again without prompting.

What was this silence doing here when it so clearly didn't belong?

Another muffled sound, one from above, and Eijun smushed his face into his pillow at the realisation, shoulders hunched.

It was quiet because, usually, Masuko snored loud enough to keep anyone in a three room radius awake. It was quiet because Kuramochi had a tendency to talk in his sleep.

It was quiet because all of them were wide awake, the memory of today's loss too fresh and raw to let them drift off into blissful oblivion.

Eijun curled up underneath his blanket, too hot but not really caring. For once, he was glad of the dark because knowing about his roommates', senpai and friends', weaknesses made him feel frailer than he had any right to feel. Darkness blanketed everything in secrets; the tears that the two of them were shedding would be left behind by morning. They would be strong, carrying on like nothing happened and training even harder than before.

He owed them. It was his fault that they even needed the night's safety to hide. Eijun couldn't cry. Not when he was the reason for their loss in the first place. He didn't deserve to.

He turned to face the wall. Pulling up the thin blanket to his chin, he rolled up its edge and bit into it to stop his lips from trembling. His eyes were beginning to swim, growing warm. Eijun squeezed them shut and bit harder until his jaw hurt.

Eijun couldn't cry and so he wouldn't.

"There was someone, you know."

The admission curls white in the cold air, melting into the cloudy sky and hard ground. It obscures cool grey for a moment before disappearing like a silent sigh.

Kazuya stares down at engraved letters, as unresponsive and lifeless as the stone they decorate. A fresh bouquet of flowers lays on the unmarked snow, covering the grave like a blanket. It's a bit ironic, how bright they are against that pure, icy white.

"There was someone... I think - I don't know." he breaks off, frustrated at just the thought. It's amazing how far his influence reaches. Something tugs inside Kazuya's chest, painful and too much like longing, and he swallows, blinking when a bit of cold white fluff drifts down from downy purple-grey above. "I think you would have liked him."

A second snowflake falls, followed by a third, fourth, fifth, until Kazuya can't see anymore. It doesn't matter though, because he isn't really looking, not at a silent grave or too bright flowers, not for words of advice or comfort which won't come. Not at, or for, anything at all.

He can't feel the cold or hear the soft crunch on snow-covered gravel behind him either; Kazuya isn't really here nor does he want to be. Then again, what he wants isn't important anymore. Maybe it never was. And yet he's here because of what he does want, a long-sought dream is finally coming true - just maybe not in the way he imagined it.

Dreams should be chased, they say. Why does no one ever tell you that dreams must be weighed, must be measured by their value? What if chasing one's dreams comes at a price, one too high to pay?

Kazuya hopes it's worth it. He hopes it's worth ending something he thinks of possibly the happiest time in his life, something he's sure would have stayed that way despite the warnings that they are 'too young to know what love and true commitment is'. He hopes it's worth feeling this empty even though he should be looking to the future and not the past.

Be careful what you wish for, they say. Maybe he should have been.

"Kazuya." A gloved hand weighs heavily on his shoulder; even through his thick winter coat, he can feel body heat start to sink through to anchor him in the present. A comforting squeeze prompts Kazuya to blink away the hazy blur in his eyes. "Ready to go?"

At the question, he swallows and nods. One more glance at the white-covered grave and a silent goodbye in its direction, then Kazuya follows his father through the cemetery and back to the waiting car. He hesitates at the gates, turning back halfway.

It feels like something is missing. Like he should have said something else, something more. But what else is there? What can you say to or ask someone who won't answer back?

"Kazuya? You coming?"

It's his father yet again who pulls him out of his thoughts. This time, Kazuya resolutely turns his back on the silent valley of the dead. It's not like they can hear him anyway.

A snowy gust of wind blows over the car's roof as if to disagree.

"Yeah. Let's go."

It was almost dawn by the time Eijun gave up on his attempt to catch any sleep that night. The room was as dark as ever but the cicadas had stopped chirping while birds were beginning to replace them. The only sounds were that of even breathing and Masuko's snoring even though it was a little more quiet than usual.

Using the noise as cover, Eijun slipped from the room silently. His head was filled with fog and his eyes hurt from fatigue but he had tried enough for one night, tried to forget and to sleep. He didn't know how Kuramochi and Masuko did it.

Swallowing, he laced up his running shoes and set a brisk pace toward the practice fields. Soon, he was sprinting, muscles bunching and aching in a familiar way. It was comforting. Eijun only stopped briefly to find his tire before setting off again.

He lost all sense of time as he ran. All he knew was the constant motion of moving his feet forward and the rhythmic impact they had on the ground. His lungs began to burn and his breath came fast but he almost welcomed it. It took away his ability to concentrate on anything else. Eijun didn't pay much attention to his surroundings, trying his best to keep running, to feel the air rush into his lungs and cool heated skin. He didn't notice how his pace began to slow until he came to a stop.

Even though it was still early, his clothes were drenched with sweat and sticking to him uncomfortably. His hair was soaked and his face dripping; some got into his eyes and stung painfully, hot and hazy. Wiping them did nothing, in fact, it seemed like more and more flowed down his cheeks the harder he tried to dry them. Tilting his head back, he gave up and stood there with clenched fists as the tears kept coming.

The sun began to rise.

Kazuya watches the scenery fly by, blurry grey with the occasional dark streaks of colour. The only constant is the road behind and in front of him. If he leans forward a little more, he can see the marked white stripes painted on the ground passing by, breaking regularly. The highway is a boring thing to look at, but it's preferable to having to try and avoid his father's wish to talk. They'd already done this recently enough and the memory of it, along with everything else it made Kazuya think of, was still too new and uncomfortable for him to want to repeat the experience.

The heater is on full blast but he still glances over at his father before he tries, to no avail, to turn it up even more.

"Are you getting sick? We should get you some medicine before your flight." his father remarks, not having missed the quick movement. Kazuya furrows his brows, shaking his head.

"No. I'll just wrap up in the blankets they give us." he says, absentmindedly drawing his jacket around him tighter. He's still shivering but he has a feeling it's not from the cold or standing out in the snow. It's been with him for longer than that.

Kazuya thinks of grassy baseball fields on hot summer days, already feeling a bit better. Then even warmer amber flashes across his vision and the heat is gone as fast as it came, leaving a dull, throbbing ache in its place.

"Hmm." is all his father says to that, glancing over at his son in mild worry. He isn't surprised when his attention goes unacknowledged; a ghost of a smile forms on his lips. He clears his throat, turning his attention back on the road. "Looks like there will be a storm tonight."

Kazuya barely pays attention, merely nodding as he tries to count the white stripes passing by underneath them. He fails all too quickly, growing dizzy as they seemingly gain speed.

Maybe it means something, like time going by too quickly to keep up, even if you try to pay attention. Maybe Kazuya should have been more attentive; maybe they would have had more time.

Snap out of it, he tells himself, blinking when he can feel his eyes grow warm. This is idiotic. Stripes are stripes.

He sinks into his seat, slouching, and catches a glimpse of the thick clouds building up. It really does look like a big storm is coming, even though they've been given a short reprieve from the heavy snowfall of the last few days. Kazuya can feel restlessness stir in his stomach.

Stripes are stripes but maybe a storm really does mean something, he thinks as he watches a single snowflake settle on the windshield before it melts.

Eijun didn't manage to sneak back into the dorms undetected. Instead, he was accosted by a grumpy Kuramochi and given a disapproving look by Masuko. Eijun grinned sheepishly, something easily wiped off by the headlock Kuramochi used on him and resulting in a pained gasp.

"Idiot, you think we wouldn't notice you missing breakfast? And as if your stinky, sweaty self wouldn't have given you away." Kuramochi's hold tightened. "You were running."

It wasn't a question but it might as well have been. Eijun stilled, ceasing his struggle.

He'd been running, that was true. As Kuramochi had said, his 'stinky, sweaty self' was evidence enough. The question was, had Eijun been running from something?

Well, yes. He had. But that wasn't something his senpai needed to or should know.

Kuramochi and Masuko traded a worried look over the bent head of their unusually quiet roommate but before they could say anything, Eijun looked up with a bright grin.

"Of course! My tire gets lonely without me, y'know? Since I haven't been able to run much because of all our games –"

"There you go again with your bullshit. Tires don't have feelings, moron!" Kuramochi let go of Eijun in exasperation but hit him upside the head for good measure. Eijun glared at him but his expression melted into astonishment at the protein bar held out to him. Kuramochi stoically looked the other way. "Here. And go get changed, brat."

Eijun wasn't able to formulate as much as a simple 'thank you' before getting another kick in the behind and his senpai left.

The rest of the day passed by in a dream-like blur. Dream-like, because everything was too normal. School went on like it always did, his teammates behaved like they would on any other day. Eijun did catch the occasional lapse they had when they thought he wasn't looking, a lull in conversation filled with absentminded, far off gazes and stilted whispers. Strangely enough, it was those cracks in this whole façade which assured him that it really wasn't a dream.

Then he would remember exactly what had happened and wished he was dreaming. At least dreams stayed dreams, to be forgotten once you woke up.

Practice was gruelling, led by their coach. He seemed completely unaffected by their loss though something told Eijun not to believe it. Nothing seemed real although it was. He couldn't help but think of all this as a nightmare he could find no escape from.

Eijun drew back his arm and that was when that nightmare became reality.

Red flashed across his vision, a sound like cracking thunder and a blood-red lightning bolt inside his head. He couldn't move, his body stopping mid-lunge, legs cramping up and arms hanging uselessly by his side. His breath sounded loud in his ears, underlined by the drum-like beat of his heart.

The ball slipped from his loose grasp, bouncing once and rolling across uneven ground.

Kazuya contemplates the approaching storm in silence. The radio plays quietly in the background, mostly ignored despite the increasing static noise. The windshield is steadily wiped clean of the snow slowly gathering across its surface, a reassuring rhythm among the speeding cars on the highway.

Do storms have meaning?

No. Of course not. They're natural occurrences. Storms, especially those which bring cold and snow, are normal during winter. This is one of the numerous times the weather broadcast has predicted a storm and it certainly won't be the last. No special warnings have been issued, only the usual ones. It will come and pass, like every storm before it.

So why does he have such an uneasy feeling about it?

"Kazuya –"

"Dad, please." Kazuya cuts him off, barely even glancing at him. He's counting white stripes, losing it every few seconds. They pass him by until they form a continuous blur. He clenches his fist inside the pocket of his jacket. "I don't want to talk about it."

He can feel his father looking at him from the side; Kazuya stubbornly keeps his gaze straight ahead and hears a sigh. It's a sound of defeat but more along the lines of 'you may have won the battle but not yet the war' than one of resignation. He knows this won't be let go so easily. He opens his mouth to give a flippant remark, to show he's just fine, he doesn't need to be comforted, now of all times, now that he's about to leave.

Why not earlier?

Kazuya can't ask, gets cut off mid-thought, by the sudden chorus of cars honking surrounding them, disjointed, blaring. His father curses loudly, yanking around the steering wheel. Something nearby makes a crumpling, cracking sound and he abruptly finds the world has flipped.

He doesn't know what's happening. One moment he's determinedly avoiding small talk with his father and the next, there's loud screeching and cold air everywhere. He can't hear a thing above the loud rushing in his ears, can't see all that much either through the cracked lenses of his glasses. His body feels strangely numb, everything is sort of sluggish. He blinks when he can feel something hot dripping into his eyes, trying to find something to hold on to, to tell him what happened –

Everything is red, dark red until black creeps in at the edges and swallows Kazuya whole.

A new multichap I'm starting. This chapter was a bit shorter than I anticipated but this is all the content I wanted to put into it. The following chapters will be longer.