Chapter Ten
"Have you seen the scorecards of the Kantō tournament?"
"No, not yet – why?"
"Seidō beat Yokohama in the preliminaries."
"What, really?"
"And they beat Keio after that..."
"Wait, really? Keio?"
"They're saying Seidō's got an amazing new first-year pitcher who nearly got a perfect game off of Yokohama – "
With a snapping sound, Mei released the band he'd been pulling back, and the gossiping second-years fell silent, staring at him.
"You hear that Masa-san?" Mei turned to face the third-year captain who'd been stretching his arms beside him. "A first-year pitcher shut down Yokohama. Almost a perfect game, even...what do you think?" Masatoshi looked imposingly back down at him.
"If you're aiming for a perfect game yourself, you can forget it. You always take a while to warm up your arm."
"Whaaat?!" With an indignant splutter of protest, Mei frowned. "That's not fair!"
"I've seen the scorecard of that game – Yokohama was hitless until the eighth inning." With a grunt, Masatoshi resumed his stretching regime. "Seidō's not the same team they were last year. You'd better be prepared to face them at full strength, Mei."
Slowly but surely, like sap, Mei's pout disappeared into a contemplative grin. "Oh? If even you're going as far as to say that, this new pitcher of theirs must really be a big deal. I wonder what kind of pitches he's got?"
Eijun sneezed, turning his face away just in time to avoid covering Miyuki's face in gunk. "'scuse me." He sniffled, raising a shoulder to wipe his nose on his arm's sleeve.
"You're not coming down with anything, are you?" Miyuki asked, stepping forward.
"I'm fine, I'm fine, I just felt a chill," Eijun reassured the catcher, waving him back. Then with a toothy smile, he added somewhat jokingly, "Hey, maybe someone was talking about me."
Miyuki let out a small laugh, though his eyes glinted seriously. "You might be right about that. I wouldn't be surprised if scouts from other schools are all buzzing about both you and Furuya now."
Coach Kataoka had sent out Furuya in the last two innings in the following match against Keio. Though he had gotten hit by their cleanup, he'd managed to keep Keio scoreless, ending the game with Seidō's win at the top of the 9th inning.
"Me and Furuya, huh..." Eijun looked down at his gloved hand. He'd expected it of course, but he was still having difficult wrapping his mind around the fact that now that he was back in his first year, this would be the first time any of the other baseball teams had ever heard of him. That included Yakushi and Inashiro, Seido's greatest rivals in this prefecture – and on those teams, Todoroki Raichi and Narumiya Mei in particular.
Narumiya...
Inashiro had lost in the second round of the Fall tournament his first year, and in the Spring and Summer tournaments of his second year, either Inashiro or Seidō had lost before having a chance to go up against each other again. Seidō had finally beaten Inashiro in the Summer tournament of his third year to move on to Kōshien – but by then, Narumiya had already graduated and left the team. So thinking in that sense, despite being known as the 'second Narumiya,' Eijun had never even once beaten his fellow southpaw pitcher.
This time around, though –
Immediately, Eijun forcibly stopped himself from finishing the thought. He tightly clenched the baseball in his other hand, trying to smother the rising feeling of thrill in his chest.
It wasn't right for him to want to beat Narumiya once and for all. That wasn't what he'd gone back into the past for. He was here to take Miyuki and the other third-years to Kōshien, not to try to win against another pitcher out of pure egotism. That'd be too – well – greedy of him.
But then again – beating Narumiya would fall quite nicely along the lines of taking the senpai to Kōshien.
"Oi, Sawamura, you listening to me?"
Belatedly realizing that Miyuki was waving his hand in front of his face, Eijun blinked rapidly to clear his thoughts.
"Sorry, what?"
"I said that's enough for today. Go hit the showers."
"Already?" Eijun peered up at the sky, which was streaked with red in the glow of the setting sun. "It's not even dinnertime yet."
"I don't want you to wear yourself out; it's best that you rest up now while you can. Once the summer training camp begins, you'll be dreaming about sleeping."
Eijun winced, not relishing the thought of having to go through that hell once more in his mostly untrained first-year body. Miyuki grinned, apparently mistaking his pained expression for one of anxiety.
"What're you getting so nervous for? You're the one who almost got a perfect game against Yokohama, aren't you?"
Eijun opened his mouth to retort something back, but the words died unspoken in his throat as he noticed in the corner of his eye a passing figure. His face lighting up, he turned around and let out a shout: "Chris-senpai!"
"Oh – Sawamura." Chris slowed to a stop, hefting his sports bag on his shoulder. Eijun carefully examined his frame; though the third-year didn't seem to look discomforted or in pain, Eijun had seen with his own two eyes what he had to go through in his rehabilitation.
"Do you need help with that?" Eijun raised a hand in offer, but Chris shook his head.
"I'm just headed out."
"Oh yeah – aren't you supposed to be at your rehabilitation right now?"
Chris looked back at him oddly, and Eijun felt himself sweat, hoping he wouldn't ask why Eijun knew his schedule (he'd gotten it off of Kanemaru).
"The schedule got pushed back today."
"I see...so you're missing dinner, huh? That's a pity, I heard it's curry today – but don't worry, I'll save you my egg!" With a martyr-like nod, Eijun gave the third-year a thumbs-up.
"No – that's okay," Chris flatly turned him down. Nevertheless, there was a faint smile on his face as he headed toward the school grounds' gates.
Eijun waved him off and then turned back around expectantly. "So anyways about Yokohama, that was...all..." He trailed off and stopped. Blinking again, he looked around – but there was no one else there.
Where'd Miyuki go?
Thwack.
Thwack.
Thwack.
Satoru took a step back. Then, gathering all of his remaining strength into his fingertips, he took a step forward and flung the towel in his hand out.
Thwack!
The towel snapped through the air, a white blur carving its way through the dark of the evening.
Thwack.
After several more throws, Satoru finally stopped. Panting, he raised the towel to his brow, wiping off some of the sweat. His hands were hot, and he pressed them against his cold ears.
"Your form is looking better," a voice called out from afar. "But if doing that's tiring you out, you still have a ways to go with your stamina." Lowering his hands, Satoru looked up to see Miyuki watching him from on top of the stairway. He was dressed casually in sweatpants and a t-shirt, with a bandana pushing his hair out of his face. Satoru pointedly turned his back toward the catcher, gripping the towel tightly in his hand. "Hey now, don't ignore me!"
Satoru hesitated and then turned back around.
"Will you catch for me, Miyuki-senpai?" he asked. He wanted to hear the sound again – not that of a towel whipping through empty air, but of a leather mitt crisply welcoming a baseball into its fold.
With a rueful grin, Miyuki gestured to the metal bat he was holding.
"I'm here to practice my swing. And as I've told Sawamura, you should rest up for the night. The coach's going to have you start for the practice game against Teitō this Sunday."
At the mention of the other first-year pitcher, Satoru frowned. Taking a step back, he gathered his strength into the tips of his fingers, and then flung his arm out forward.
Thwack!
"Then I need to practice more...if I want to catch up to him," he said determinedly.
By the time his father had dropped him off at the school gates, it had grown chilly in the way summer nights tended to get. The sun had set hours ago, and the arid heat had transformed into an uneasy cold that nipped at the back of his hair, still wet from the shower.
As expected of the Seidō baseball team, however, Chris passed by several members practicing their batting out on the grounds. Many of them were from the second-string, and drained as he was from that evening's exercises, Chris sluggishly recalled that the coach would be picking one more person to join the first-string.
Personally, Chris thought that the position would go to Kominato - the younger one, who dormed in the room next to his. Even from what little he'd managed to see during batting practice, he'd been taken aback by the first-year's prodigious batting and fielding sense. In his opinion, the younger Kominato had the potential to become even better than his older brother, who was himself a force to be reckoned with.
Judging by the way their practices and plays were growing increasingly desperate, the other players on the second-string probably knew that too – that their chances of playing in the Summer tournament, already less than optimal, had grown closer to impossible. And yet, for the most part, none of them resented the players who were chosen for the first-string. For how could they, when the first-string players were right alongside them every night, practicing their swings and defensive plays, pushing themselves farther than anyone else?
Just inside the dorm gate, Chris could see someone swinging a bat. He glanced up – and seeing tufts of dark brown hair from under a white bandana, he stopped. But then the figure turned around, and he saw – to his relief? or disappointment? – that they were wearing a pair of glasses.
"You've sure got it rough...did you just get back?" It was Miyuki, with beads of sweat lining his temple. Chris mutely nodded, and with a grin, Miyuki lowered his bat. "I'm just about done here...let me get you a drink, Chris-senpai."
Miyuki led the way to the back of the cafeteria building where the vending machines were, and Chris followed. A pair of second-years who'd been dawdling around one of the machines waved to them, before walking back into their room, chattering loudly. When the two turned around the corner, the two catchers were the only ones left.
"Sawamura's been stalking you, hasn't he?" Miyuki spoke up amusedly, as he hovered in front of the machine's selection screen.
"Yeah...it's kind of creepy..."
The first-year pitcher seemed to have developed a sixth sense for knowing where Chris was at all times of the day, constantly popping up out of seemingly nowhere to try and help him with the most menial of tasks. Just the other day in the dining room, while wearing a bandana from Masuko's family shop, Sawamura had tried to give him twice the usual serving of rice.
"Hahaha! He's been working hard in practice though. His control wasn't bad to begin with, and it's getting even better now." With a clatter, two cans tumbled down into the receptacle. Miyuki bent over to pick them up, and pressed the cold can into Chris's hand. "Here you go."
"Thanks. He's gotten over the Yokohama game, then?" Chris asked absently, opening his can with a fizz – and then stopped, recalling with a flash why exactly Sawamura had gone up on the mound. Miyuki seemed to be thinking along the same lines, for he flashed him a knowing smile.
"Chris-senpai, what do you think of Sawamura? With his naturally moving balls and unique delivery form, and the way how even now, he continues to evolve...to a catcher, that kind of pitcher is somewhat alluring, no?" Miyuki took a sip from his own can. "After getting that double hit off of him, he seemed fine, so he doesn't seem to be the kind of pitcher who falls apart so easily. But I'm sure you've noticed as well – there's something oddly fragile about Sawamura. It's almost as if he's afraid the mound will be taken out from right under him – or like he feels he doesn't belong there. He's coming along better now but still...the ones who can best lend him that assurance would be us catchers, don't you think?"
Chris looked down at the can in his hand, feeling the way the cold metal bleached into his skin.
"As you say, I've noticed that about him as well...but I don't have the ability to help him." Getting up, Chris finished his can with a single gulp. "Once he stops concerning himself with things irrelevant to the team, Sawamura should be just fine. What you should be focusing on is how to best utilize both him and Tanba for the upcoming tournament...you'll have to work hard, number one catcher!"
Leaving behind Miyuki at the bench, Chris headed up the stairs to his dorm room. Reaching the top of the stairway, he stopped, and raised a hand to his shoulder. He winced, as a phantom pain throbbed through his upper body, and his father's words echoed through his mind:
"Yū...don't pay any mind to what's happening with the team. You just have to focus on building up your own body...your life as a baseball player has only now begun!"
Watching the Yokohama game, Chris had been left shaken in the wake of the tempest known as Sawamura. As if returning to his body after a long time of wandering the earth as a spirit, he'd felt back in control for the first time in a long while. And accordingly, his rehabilitation was going smoothly and the pace at which he was recovering his body was faster than anything the doctors and fitness trainers had predicted. But still, he would never be able to make it in time for the summer tournament – which, as a third-year, would have been his last chance to play for the team.
Chris had long accepted he would never play in Kōshien with the rest of the team. He had come to terms with it, and made peace with it in his own way. But for some reason now, every time he saw the first-year southpaw pitching during practice, he felt something thump inside him. His hands grew impatient, as if demanding to him why he wasn't wearing a mitt, and there was an itch in his chest that Chris had gradually come to realize wouldn't go away by itself. It was an itch to be out there on the field in his catching gear, seated behind the batter, signaling to the pitcher. The pitcher would nod and then after a tranquil moment – the eye of the storm – they would send the ball to where he was waiting with his mitt raised, the clean cracking sound of ball meeting leather music to his ears.
Chris knew –
I want to catch for Sawamura.
But he also knew that the way he was, he would only hurt the team.
Taking in a deep breath, Chris gave one last look down over the balcony.
It's up to you Miyuki...to lead Sawamura and to take the team to Kōshien.
Kazuya lingered on the bench by the vending machines for some time, long after he had finished his can of pocari sweat. By the time he raised his head and had gotten an inkling of how late it was, his whole body had become cold. Throwing the can in the trash can, he looked around, and spotted the bat he'd been using for practice on the ground by the bench. Bending over to pick it up, he stretched his leg muscles while he was at it, mentally berating himself for losing track of the time. It wasn't like him.
Most of the lights in the dorm rooms – usually faintly visible as a glow through the windows – were off, and hurrying up the stairs, Kazuya found himself being glad he had a single to himself. At the same time, though, it did mean that there was nobody to wake him up in the morning if he was so tired that he missed his alarm clock – ...hold on, who was that sitting outside his door?
"Sawamura?" Kazuya asked uncertainly. For a second, the figure, his face hidden under a cap, didn't respond, and Kazuya was about to regret speaking up first when the figure suddenly raised his head with a great groan.
"You sure take your time getting back to your room, Miyuki-senpai," Sawamura – for indeed it was him – moaned. Getting up to his feet stiffly, the first-year began to stretch his arms.
"You were waiting for me?" He was finding it difficult to keep the astonishment out of his voice.
"Of course," said Sawamura, giving him a look as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "I can't let Furuya have you all the time" but Kazuya couldn't be sure.
"You're never going to listen to me, are you?" Kazuya shook his head in exasperated bemusement. "I said you shouldn't be wearing yourself out this early on."
"Speak for yourself, coming back to your room this late," said Sawamura with a sniff, and Kazuya had to concede the point.
"So? What're you here for? Don't tell me you want me to catch your balls?" With the way Furuya kept hounding at him to catch for him even after practice was over, Kazuya was starting to understand the necessity of restraining orders in the real world.
"No, I just wanted to see you," said Sawamura, and Kazuya felt himself sweat, wondering how the first-year could say that with such a straight face.
"Given up on dogging Chris-senpai for the night then?" he asked teasingly.
"Well, yeah. He's sleeping now," Sawamura admitted. Then, suddenly taking a step back, he turned his head away and let out a small sneeze. "'scuse me," he added thickly.
Kazuya's eyes immediately drew to the other boy's bare arms, and he frowned. Taking out his key, he opened his door and flicked on the light. Kneeing Sawamura inside the room, he threw his bat aside on the floor and began to rummage through a basket of his clothes. Finding a clean sweater, Kazuya threw it at the first-year's head.
"Here, wear this before you catch a cold." Without protest, Sawamura tugged the sweater on. It was a little too big for him, as his hands disappeared inside the sleeves, and after having putting it on, he gaped back at Kazuya dumbly like a goldfish. Kazuya stared back for a second – before bursting into laughter. "You put it on backwards, you idiot."
"Oh." Uncomfortably, Sawamura tugged at the neck opening, and then slithering his arms back to his chest, he scrunched the sweater around until it was back on properly. "Better?"
"Yeah. You can wear that back to your room...else I'd have to worry about you catching a cold while going down the stairs."
"I'll wash it for you," Sawamura offered, in a tone that suggested he'd be doing Kazuya a big favor by doing so.
"And risk my sweater smelling like you?" Kazuya shook his finger. "Just give it back to me in the morning."
To his surprise, Sawamura didn't rise to the bait, but instead, looked around the room contemplatively.
"So you're the only one in your room, huh...is that why you're late to practice sometimes?"
"Haha! You're still holding that against me?" Kazuya smirked, recalling back to the first day of practice. The first-year let out a snort, and stepped out the door.
"I'll be banging on your door tomorrow morning so you'd better be up," he said, and then without another word, he left. Kazuya felt himself sweat again as the door closed shut behind him.
Cheeky brat.
But as he passed by the mirror beside the drawer on his way to get his toothbrush, his reflection had a small smile on his face, and he had to stop and readjust his facial expression because Miyuki Kazuya did not smile like that.
Ever.
A/N: Thank you baseball nerd and Me-Anne for your heartwarming reviews (because I can't respond to anons). As well as to everyone else of course!
Anyways, for chapters that don't have baseball – and thus nothing to say in the notes of interest – I might be writing a short omake every now and then like in this chapter, usually probably having to do with the future Seidō team.
Not much happened in this chapter, but as promised, there are more interactions between characters...hope you liked it.
- Omake -
It was late evening by the time Aramaki reached Spirit dorm. His recruiter had already showed him around the baseball grounds several months ago – Seidō actually had two practice fields just for their baseball team! Talk about being prestigious – but this was his first time visiting the area where most of the other baseball team members lived their daily lives.
From the courtyard, he could see two levels of dorm rooms. It was spacious and well-lit, but what marked it as different from just any other dorm was the baseball and fitness equipment scattered in between the doors. Racks of bats and baseballs hung from almost every wall, and they were all worn down – though well taken care of – with use.
Aramaki could barely hold himself back from letting out an adrenaline-induced shout of excitement.
Baseball-crazy life, here I come!
Back in junior high school, he'd been by far the most enthusiastic about baseball in his team. Most of them had joined for the uniform, or because they needed an extracurricular – and in his three years, they'd never made it past the first round of any tournament. That was why everyone, him included, had been surprised when a recruiter sent him an invitation to join Seidō High School, one of the most elite baseball schools in Tokyo...but secretly (for he could never say so out loud) Aramaki saw it as destiny calling to him. He'd never thought of himself as being a particularly talented pitcher, but the recruiter had obviously seen something in him – and now, he was here at their dorms, ready to become a part of a team that frequently made Kōshien.
And boy, was he ready!
Humming to himself, Aramaki scanned the room numbers, remembering vaguely from what the recruiter had told him that his room was on the first floor. Almost immediately, he found it – his name plaque was hanging beside two other names. His heart began to thump faster as he read the names of two of his future teammates.
Okumura... Kōshū? And Sawamura Eijun...
Surely, being members of the Seidō team, they would be amazing players? Maybe they would even be on Seidō's first string? The names did sound familiar.
Hold on...Sawamura Eijun?
Aramaki's eyes widened. Wasn't that the name of Seidō's team captain? He'd traveled to Tokyo and went to some of Seidō's games in the fall tournament after being scouted, and now that he thought about it, he felt even more certain about it.
Wait – so my new roommate...is Seidō's ace and team captain?!
Aramaki felt his mouth go dry.
I...I don't know if I'm ready for this. They'll probably all laugh at me and kick me out of the team. I knew I should've stayed in Ōita...at least I was good there...
"Who are you?" An unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke out behind him, and Aramaki jumped. Spinning around, he saw a boy with light hair looking back at him with vague – but rapidly fading – interest. He was holding a toothbrush and a face towel in his hand.
Aramaki gulped, and discretely pinched himself hard on his arm.
Pull yourself together, this is no time to be chicken! You must be bold – swift – as forceful as a typhoon!
"I'm...I'm Aramaki Satoshi. I just came from Ōita prefecture – I'm a first-year."
"Oh," said the other boy. "I'm Okumura."
"Okumura?" Aramaki repeated, his heart beating even faster. "Okumura Kōshū? Are you my roommate?"
"So you're the new member in our room?" said Okumura, without bothering to answer his question.
"Yes, I'm a pitcher. Nice to meet you!"
At that, Okumura looked a little more interested (though that wasn't saying much, considering how little of it there'd been to start with).
"I'm a catcher," he said. "Now, are you going in or not?"
Aramaki realized that he'd been blocking the other boy's way, and flushed.
"Sorry, go on in," he said, backing away and gesturing toward the door.
"What about you?"
"Oh – oh yeah, me too..." Trailing off, Aramaki stepped back forward. Okumura was looking at him expectantly, so after a moment, he gripped the cold doorknob and turned. It gave way, and when he pulled, it opened smoothly, swinging silently on its hinges.
What Aramaki saw when he opened the door, however, he would never forget for the rest of his life.
A floating white face, its eyes rolled upward unnaturally – lit up in the pitch black room with an eerie yellow light – a disembodied voice moaning, reverbrating through the room – and then as Aramaki stared speechlessly back, its eyes rolled back down to meet his. Realizing then that he'd met eyes with this strange creature – that death was imminent – that he should never have left home to come to this far-off foreign world where he knew nothing – Aramaki dropped all of his bags and screeched at the top of his lungs.
As he frothed and twitched on the ground, he heard distantly, as if through a long tunnel, an exasperated voice going, "Really, Sawamura-senpai?"
And then another voice, that let out an unrestrained laugh.
"Hey, it's a room tradition!"