This is bad.
Even with a mind as hazy as his, as it has been ever since that cursed game, Eijun realises how precarious the situation at hand is. The gaze missing its usual spark slides from the runner on third to Seidou's catcher.
Miyuki is unmoveable, a rock, grounding him in the midst of a sea of paralysing fear. Eijun can see his eyes, hard and full of concentration, from behind sharp, clear glass. They narrow, flickering sideways for just a split second before Miyuki signs to him. It's a pitch to the outside, but instead of relief, there's a flare of anger.
Kazuya's heart stops when Sawamura does the unthinkable.
The shake of his head may as well have been a scream, silencing the world around them with the attention it demands.
The pitcher looks up and Kazuya's heart starts again, speeding up in exhilaration. He grins, pure and joyous, adrenaline-drenched at the oh-so familiar light in amber depths.
To the inside, huh?
Eijun gives an answering grin, mirroring Miyuki's and effectively chilling their opponents down to the core. He nods.
Let's do this.
Kazuya subtly shifts to the side, easily sliding back into the old stance, and holds up his mitt expectantly.
Eijun draws up his leg, the motion automatic, reassuring and safe by now. He balances for a moment, taking in a deep breath.
It seems like the whole stadium, the world even, holds their breath right along with Kazuya.
Then Eijun's arm comes out like a whip, fast like lightning. The ball leaves his fingertips, taking flight as it aims right for Miyuki's mitt. It lands with a sound like thunder, crackling loudly and echoing around the field.
Air whooshes out of Kazuya's lungs in one great gust of suppressed tension, punched out of him by the hard impact that glorious pitch has on his mitt.
The crowd's roaring returns in full force, jubilous shouting accompanying triumphant singing and booing the opponent as the inning is declared over.
Eijun doesn't do a fist pump or break out into his typical "Osh, osh, osh!" chant. Instead, he is still curiously silent, eyes fastened to Miyuki's like magnets.
The spell is broken by the Seidou team pouncing on him. He is suddenly besieged by a mass of too warm bodies, surrounded by laughter, relieved grins and smiles. There is underhanded praise too to which Eijun responds with much loud protest and a hidden grin.
Kazuya doesn't move, not consciously, anyway. His feet carry him toward the mound in measured steps, slow at first and then steadily gaining speed until he's sprinting. Just moments later, he stands in front of Sawamura, grinning too wildly for him to be considered normal. But he really doesn't care, doesn't mind that his emotions are so open, for once. Somehow, he never does, not around Sawamura. Somehow, he has always been the exception.
His helmet slips from his loose grasp onto the ground with a low thud.
"Miyuki Kazuya, what's with that creepy grin?" Eijun shouts over the heads of his teammates, interrupting himself with a cough when Isashiki thumps upon his back with a bit too much force. He looks up, eyes tearing slightly, freezing when he suddenly finds the Miyuki right in front of him. He's close. Too close. "What –"
The team of Seidou falls silent in shock when their star catcher pulls their loudmouth pitcher close – and kisses him soundly on the mouth. Sawamura's arms flail for a few seconds, helplessly hanging in the air until they fall to his sides, limp, when Miyuki shows no signs of letting go anytime soon.
Kazuya's eyes snap open, (very) belatedly becoming aware of just what the hell he is doing. He pulls back, heart racing, but tries to pass off the kissbecause that's what it was as nothing more than a casual, friendly gesture. Kazuya forces his mouth to form his signature smirk, hoping it's not as stiff and lopsided as it feels.
"What the actual fuck. Dude." Kuramochi hisses, voicing Kazuya's exact thoughts. He shrugs, thankfully hiding the way his shoulders are trembling. The rest of his teammates do nothing to offer help in any way, all staring at him with either shock or in accusation. Kominato's smile looks sharp and dangerous while Isashiki has gone pale and Yuuki's stoic expression somehow manages to look disappointed.
"Post-game tradition?" Kazuya tries to excuse his behaviour, glancing at Sawamura. For some reason, he's irrationally afraid of what the younger's response will be. Is he disgusted? Is he still going to ask for pitches? Does he –
"Post-game tradition, my a – whoa!"
The third years plus Kuramochi jump apart from the tight knot they have formed around Sawamura when the pitcher practically leaps at Miyuki. The only way the two of them don't lose balance is by the catcher gripping him around the waist tightly, more of an automatic reaction than requiring actual thought.
Eijun is stunned. That's truly the only word befitting his state of mind right now. Not hazy and blurry or clear and sharp. Just. Frozen.
Did.
Did Miyuki just kiss him?
Slim fingers lift to touch his still tingling lips as Miyuki tries to explain himself, amber eyes wide and seemingly unable to look away from the catcher yet again. Then the elder's eyes meet his, strangely fearful – and Eijun leaps into action before he even knows his body moved.
Lips are on lips again, hot from adrenaline and tasting of victory. It's a bit dry and Miyuki's glasses are in the way but after a bit of fumbling and head tilting it works out alright. Eijun can feel and taste the smile on Miyuki's lips. The next moment they're gone but still close enough to feel their warmth.
"You did it." Miyuki murmurs, breath warm like sunshine and voice wondrous. "You pitched to the inside."
Kazuya is still marvelling at the fact that Sawamura suddenly overcame what everyone thought was his downfall - and also that he apparently doesn't mind the kissing at all. As if to confirm that fact, Sawamura once more presses his lips to Kazuya's, grinning. Masuko gives a soft mournful sound ending in '-chan…' and Kuramochi pretends to retch into the field.
"Yeah." Eijun says, eyes warm and alive as they roam over Miyuki's face. What is this, he wonders, but he can't be bothered to find out, not right now. "I did."
