A/N: this is a request fic for Chika1966 :' I apologize that it took a pretty a long time. This week has been a wreck for me and I just couldn't write. After getting myself together, I finally had time to finish this.

Hopefully you like it and so do you readers!

Warning: I know most of us are used to reading Miyuki as 'Miyuki' and not by his first name 'Kazuya'. But to prevent confusion since three Miyuki(s) will be mentioned in this story, Miyuki will be Kazuya in the flashback aka; his story telling.

Rated-T+ for mention of abusive and language content.

Disclaimer: I do not own Daiya no Ace.

Torpedo Slap

By: graylubitches

(Final)Chapter One:

It started off as a wonderful day for Miyuki. He had come up with ten different insults for Furuya and Sawamura respectively. He annoyed Kuramochi as hell by flaunting a love letter that he received from a female colleague of theirs at lunch. He also hit off a homerun in practice which he hadn't done so in awhile; making Tanba sad. And had an enjoyable time bossing the senpais and first-years around. He really did love his position in the game.

His eyes traced their way at the back of Coach Kataoka's and practice was given charge to the Captain. The coach left them all on their own with the trust that they will follow their usual regime and continue to enhance their skills.

Miyuki was content yet exhausted—and when a familiar voice called out to him that immediately sent a current of fear to rush through his body—he knew that the day was far from over.

"How's my son doing?" his father grinned at him that it made him twitch.

"Fine," he mumbled sourly.

The two are currently talking by the side of their playing field—away from ears.

"You've grown since the last time you were home. Two inches, maybe."

He grunted in reply and felt gazes peer through his head. Frankly, he found the situation uncomfortable. His members were being busybodies though it may appear natural since this is the first time they had seen his dad. But he could not help but squirm from the attention.

"Is that Miyuki-senpai's father?" Haruichi blinked innocently.

"What is he doing here?" Jun added; full of curiosity as well.

Eijun then popped out of nowhere and asked, "Oh, what do you guys think they're talking about?"

"How would we know, Bakamura (Stupidmura)? Miyuki never even mentioned his father before," the green-haired roommate exclaimed.

A short silence came over as the trio first-years, Kuramochi and Jun watched the scene unfold before them.

"What are you all doing?" a calm yet hard voice interrupted.

"Spying on Miyuki," Furuya bluntly replied.

"So. You guys. Aren't. Practicing?" All of them froze after finally realizing who the persons were behind them.

"Captain!/Yuki /Tetsu-san! And Brother!/Ryosuke/Ryo-san!" They simultaneously shrieked in fright of being scolded.

"So how's your new school? Are they treating you nicely?"

"Cut to the chase, old man. What do you want and why did you come here?"

They don't have the best father-and-son relationship as one can decipher.

When his father rolled his eyes in response, a change in expression certainly did not go unnoticed. "I need money. My machinery shop is barely holding on its own and I still need bills to pay."

"What makes you think I can give you money."

"Kazuya, it'll only be for a week. One week is all I ask for. I'll convince your coach somehow and then you work."

The catcher's eyes hardened and he sharply said, "Stay away from me. I'm not doing your dirty work for you and I have no money to give you. Straighten up and get your life together already!"

Slap! "Don't tell me what to do. I'm still your father so you have no right to go against me."

He felt the stinging impact against his cheek and knew it will leave a bruise.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Really. But he was because it has been awhile since a hand laid itself on him. Miyuki curled up instinctively, preparing for another lecture to come.

"What the hell did you just do?" He recognized that voice of his Captain and slowly he looked behind his shoulder to see not one but more than half of the regulars. They all looked angry and some were even ready to tackle the man down for what he did to their friend.

Surprise came across his face. Followed by a feeling of relief then suddenly to feeling ashamed. Ashamed that they can see him in his vulnerable moment—which was something he thought would be impossible since he made sure he wouldn't get careless.

He whipped his head to his father and glared. "Just go home, dad. I'm not going to do any of your shit. You wasted your time coming here."

When Miyuki missed to catch Furuya's pitch, no matter how impressively fast it was—the team knew that the earlier event really did bother him. "Ah, sorry. The helmet blocked my view."

Tetsuya relaxed his bat down before approaching the lad. He stared at him in worry, "Miyuki, I think it's best if you end your day here."

"I'm completely fine. It was just a catching error. It happens to all catchers so let's not make a big deal out of it."

The bespectacled boy then felt a warm hand on his shoulder. It was Jun. He concluded Miyuki's decision and ended the conversation. "Just rest up, Miyuki. We don't want to see you break down on the field. Not here at least. Not in front of the place you love."

His rectangular rimmed glasses was pulled off of his face as they set them on the study desk by the side. As if all of his energy has been drained, he plopped himself onto his bed with his nose burying themselves into his pillow.

Miyuki was thankful. If the members hadn't pursuaded him to go back to his room, he really did would have sobbed his eyes out on the grassy plain.

Tears flowed down his cheeks as he dugged his fingers deeper into the blanket. Memories began flashing through his eyes. Bad ones. Awful ones. The things he could never forget and neither did he want to remember.

"Where's your payment old hag? You lost yourself a grand mount of money to me. Now I'm calling to hear about my pay."

"Hello? Shu-san? Instead of money as the payment, why don't I present you and your family a better offer. I have this kid. A little boy. He's very obedient, great at housework, a lovely singer, who can be at your service. Why don't I give him to you for a month. Be it—you—turning him into a slave or a maid. He's all yours for the next 30 days and you can do whatever it is you want with him. How about it? Deal?"

"You're offering me a cheap deal with a cheap child? How ridiculous is that."

"No no no sir. Think of him as a puppet that you can play with. Some kind of entertainment or a stress reliever. He won't say a thing. And I have at least 480,000 yen in my pocket right now that I can give you. Isn't that more than enough?"

"For a 700,000 yen debt?"

"Yes, because I promise you. The service will be worth it."

"Doesn't really convince me but very well... Change it to 500,000 yen when I stop by and I'll agree."

"Yes of course! It's very much a deal. That's no problem at all. In the meantime, I will be arranging the money after I visit the bank, and I will get the child ready for your arrival."

With that being said—the line went dead on the other line.

"Is he sleeping?" Eijun asked—and the others were glad that this time his voice was gentle rather than using the infamous loudmouth he possessed.

Practice ended early; curtesy of their captain. In truth, they were in agreement with the decision. Although they wholeheartedly loved baseball and would prefer to practice batting or pitching over anything else, the thought of an alone and sad catcher did not sit right in their minds.

Instead of saying "they had to do something", it was more like "they wanted to do something" and provide comfort for the boy.

Miyuki wiped his face away with the pillow. He craved for sleep but it would not come to his need. "W-Why are you guys here?" he asked with a strained tone.

"We–uhm, wanted to see how you were doing senpai," Haruichi responded while fiddling with the edge of his shirt.

"I'm fine. You guys can go."

Kuramochi was seething with annoyance. He didn't like seeing such a side from his friend but also hated himself because he knew he should have pounded the man earlier. Miyuki's father or not; he did not have the right to hit the lad on the face. The green-haired boy marched towards the bed, reached over and grabbed the figure to turn him towards them. "Look at me. We know you're not oka—holy shit! Your face!?"

The catcher touched his cheek then winced. There was a bump—a bruise and it hurt.

As it seems that Tetsuya had not forgotten about the harsh slap, he already had a bag of ice in his bag which he quickly took out for it to be used. "What an asshole of a father!" Jun roared in fury. "If I see him again, I swear, next time it'd be his face that gets mushed up."

Miyuki bitterly laughed. "Actually, no, let's not hope for him to come back here."

Furuya walked over to the door and made it sure it was lock. The trio then silently sat cross-legged on the floor while the other senpais sat around the catcher. Tetsuya held Miyuki's hand. "Do you want to talk about it? We're all here for you."

He was hesitant. The idea of telling them his story felt inconvenient.

"You know, you could be such a jerk," Eijun suddenly said which made everyone froze in a negative manner. They were all ready to kick the brunet out of the room when the younger teen then continued his words. "No, you are a jerk. You make snarky comments and is ever a perfectionist. You insult me almost every single time and rarely told me anything nice. But you were also my goal, Miyuki. I wanted to be like you who exceeded many people's expectations despite being a first year back then. When I saw you on a magazine and realized how much you out shined everyone, I envied you yet at the same time, I wanted to form a battery with you even more. I can—will understand if you don't want to tell us your story. But I'm saying this to you to let you know I care. That no matter how mean you can be most times, it won't top my feelings of ever wanting to reach out to you." The room fell silent.

Then out of nowehere, a chuckle escaped Miyuki's throat. "Corny brat. Okay, I have decided to tell you. All of you. About my story...and how miserable my past was..."

—The first time his grandmother had told him that he was leaving to stay at someone else's place for a month (a sleepover was the excuse); he was still very naive then and knew nothing of the signs of torture ahead. He had been 7 years old when he first felt the stinging of pain on his cheeks after getting slapped. Then comes the reek of rotten food as he was assigned to throw out the garbage everyday, and the food prepared just for him had also smelled the same. It was followed by the hate for his own horrible scent from being demanded to bathe only once a week. The list goes on to being shoved, kicked, punched and whipped from day to day events. And the salty tears never helped one bit because he was punished even more.

The second time it happened, he attempted to run away. There was no way he was going back to Hell, and serve some arrogant devils who disguises themselves as humans. He couldn't handle another beating or another hundred of tasks for him to do; he would rather disappear. But by the word 'attempted' used in this paragraph—it is evident that his plan had failed.

When the third time came by to sweep him off his feet, he had attempted to commit suicide. No more! He screamed. He was tired, hopeless and broken. He had given up on life and just about everything. Yet once he opened his eyes to see the white ceiling hovering above him, felt a needle pricked through his skin and the noises of his heart-rate beeping by his ears—he finally concluded that it was futile to escape the world. That he had been foolish to try and run away from the bindings of his grandmother, and that Miyuki Kazuya really was trapped in his personal reality.

As he stood in front of the grave of Miyuki Yena. The woman who took him in at the age of seven after his mother died, and the person who gave him a roof on his head, clothes to wear, food to eat and all the money spent on him which came from the remaining funds of his mother's bank account. He didn't know whether to be grateful or to be upset. But by the minute the memory of when he was used as a payment to pay off debts (that came from the reckless gambling made) flashed before his eyes, and the fact that Kazuya is now scarred for life—the decision was clear. His grandmother had died and it gave him no sadness, grief or the feeling of despair. He will continue to live on as a ten year-old boy who just happened to lose a kin from a casual illness of lung disease. No more than that.

It was only a week later after the funeral did a man came knocking on his door. Coincidentally, it was his father whom he never met before. Actually, his mother had not mentioned that the man was still very much alive during the time they were living happily together. Miyuki Kurya owned a famous wine company. He lived in an mansion and was the talk of the town. Who knew that this was his father?

Kurya had come to pay off the debts his grandmother have had with other gamblers and to make sure he lived off in a better lifestyle because of the fault of not taking care of his only son.

He moved into a high-class condo where his furniture, clothes and a refrigerator stacked with good food awaited. His life turned into a 180 degree in an instant. And he was thankful for the miracle he received.

Until of course, the company went bankrupt after a big scandal in regards to their service business and his father was ripped off of his own money right under his nose by his so-called partner and bestfriend.

And Kazuya was blamed for all this misfortune.

"Hey brat. Want to work again as a slut for a group of business dealers of mine? I know you've had experience so you'll be good, right?" his father asked him on a one fine day. "We do need the money."

Everything. His world. Collapsed.

"I don't know you anymore," Kazuya spat before running out of the house.

He had been carrying his bag when he ditched and inside was his glove and a ball. Throwing to a brick wall then catching the ball as he crouched down for it had been a stress reliever. He had also joined the baseball team and has been playing for three years now. It was something he grew to love because he knew that there was no way Baseball will betray him. There's just no way to it.

So when a woman approached him out of nowhere to recruit him to Seidou right after he graduates—Kazuya was more than willing to agree. He avoided his father for months by eating alone in his room, going to school early, coming back home only to grab a plate for dinner before heading straight upstairs. He also stayed late to practice so he could hone his skills for the sport. Overall, he made sure to keep himself busy and could not wait to leave the house (no longer a mansion) and live another better life (he hoped).

"So this is your kid? He has such a petit but cute body."

A stranger once commented and it sent a cold shiver down Kazuya's spine.

He could only glare at his father who stood behind the unknown person because he knew he planned the scenario without his consent.

"Kazuya, this is Hiro-san, you will be staying at his place for the next month."

He almost laughed. But he didn't though he did cussed. "Fuck you." Then brushed pass them to exit the door. He still had some practicing to do and three weeks left before he could finally leave.

The next day, he skipped school but still went to practice. Kazuya sported bruises on his face and body so he wore a sweater, jogging pants, a beanie and sunglasses with a few patches on him despite the hot weather. He wanted to avoid the questioning of his coach which failed though he did come up with a lie of how he fell off a motorcycle that his non-existent uncle suggested him to ride. But the truth is that it was his father who beat him up for the embarrassment he showed him in front of his "customer". Kazuya wanted to throw up at the word. To throw up on his father and call him an asshole. Because he was just like his grandmother. And he felt betrayed by both of his kins. He was unloved.

Once Miyuki ended his story, he felt his clothes stained by tears. On his left, Kuramochi had his face pressed on his shoulder. On his right, Jun had grabbed his arm with his head bowed down. On either side of his legs, both Furuya and Haruichi had themselves engulfed in his pants. Behind him, Tetsuya had his head resting on his back. Lastly, on his stomach is where Eijun had concealed himself. He shuddered in an emotional roll. Each and everyone of them were crying. Crying for him. And he felt their warm and loving presence. That he wasn't alone.

It was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off of his shoulder. And he was immensely grateful for these people who listened to a story he never once shared to anyone.

The noises began to fade and the background joined not long after. Miyuki had gone to the restroom just before their game and he now regrets that decision. A familiar figure stood in front of him with a man by the person's side who was the only one he did not recognize. "Akiya-san, this is the son I was talking about who will work for you during your vacation here at Tokyo. I seriously hope you enjoy yourself at your stay."

"A baseball player? I guess he won't be bad if he's active."

Miyuki wanted to scream. He wanted to tell these people to–"Fuck off. Miyuki is not a part-time toy and will never again work for some stinky geezer."

Kurya was furious at the disrespectful tone being used on him. Also, he's in the middle of making business so the interruption was pretty much unwanted. "You children need to learn your—" his sentence was cut off by a blow on the face.

"I did say I was going to punch him the second time we meet."

Do you think you can guess which person said that?

The rest of the baseball members laughed.

When the 'geezer' came fleeing away and bumped into a trash bin in the process, the sun suddenly shone bright. It was going to be a good day today, Miyuki thought. The torpedo has finally went away and in outcome created six honeybees guarding a flower that is yet to wilt.

thanks for reading :')