Chapter Thirty-eight
~ This very first part of the chapter takes place the same time as the first half of chapter 1. ~
Some of the others had to rent their suits, but Eijun had his from the year before. His mother had gotten it tailored since then to accommodate his growth.
It was a blur of faces. The smell of incense was overwhelming, clouding his eyes and filling his ears. Somehow, Eijun couldn't seem to gather who was there, but only who wasn't there.
Kanemaru wasn't there. Eijun thought he could vaguely recall someone saying that he'd gone ahead to Hyōgo with the rest of the team members to represent them for the opening ceremony.
Chris wasn't there, though there was a missing call from him in Eijun's call history.
And the person who should have been there... He wasn't there either.
Eijun shivered. His chest felt cold.
Sitting near the front was Miyuki's father. He was so quiet, it almost felt as though he wasn't there. When Eijun had arrived and bowed to him, he'd seen his face. It'd been hidden behind a pair of dark frames. All he could think at the time was how empty and vacant the man's expression looked—and how like a mirror it was. Except Eijun had a feeling that the man had been that way for a long time.
Beep beep beep...
Yōichi groggily opened his eyes.
As the alarm continued to noisily make its existence known, he looked up at the ceiling and wondered what had possessed him to play Street Fighter instead of sleeping the previous night. But no—he perked up—this was no time to be lying around. It wasn't just any morning. It was the morning of the summer regional finals. Feeling more alert, he rose up into a sitting position.
"Morning," said Masuko, who was already changing.
"Morning Masuko-senpai," Yōichi returned. Clambering down the side of the bunk bed, he noticed an unmoving lump still in the bed below his, and rapped its side with his foot. "Get up. You went to sleep frigging before me, dammit."
The lump didn't move.
An uneasy feeling overtaking him, Yōichi reached out to pull the covers back. "Oi, Sawa – " Stopping short, he blinked. He pulled the covers back completely. He turned around. "Where's Sawamura?"
When Eijun woke up that morning, for some strange reason, he thought he could taste incense in his mouth. But his brain was still sluggish with sleep. And as soon as he'd opened his eyes and saw the person lying beside him, the taste faded away.
It must have grown unbearably hot at some point in the night. Miyuki was on his back with an arm pressed against the plaster wall, perhaps in a last ditch measure to cool down. For a moment, Eijun watched the catcher's sleeping frame, his chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly.
Since the alarm had yet to go off, he was about to go back to sleep when he noticed something rectangular in shape lying above Miyuki's head: His cellphone. It was a different model from what Eijun remembered, but he supposed that was natural, seeing how this was several years earlier from his own time. Normally, he would've let it go at that, since he knew—perhaps more than anyone, thanks to Kuramochi's unwanted detective work—what it felt like to have his cellphone privacy violated. But just then, a sudden thought struck him.
Taking care not to touch Miyuki, Eijun took the phone and flipped it open. It was locked with a pin number, but—he held his breath—the year of his birthday worked, and the home screen popped up.
Tempted as he was to nose through the pictures (though thinking about it, Miyuki probably had nothing except the pre-saved photos that came by default with the phone) Eijun opened up the address book. He scrolled down, noticing that most of the contacts were things like 'Dry Cleaners' and 'Pizza', and then came to a stop at a single entry:
Dad.
Glancing at Miyuki's back and then down at the phone screen, Eijun quickly tapped out a short message. Before he could think it over and change his mind, he pressed send.
Beep beep beep...
Just as the alarm sound alerted Eijun, he heard Miyuki groan. Putting down the phone where he'd picked it up, he closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt the bed creak as Miyuki turned and got up.
Wondering whether it'd be more appropriate to pretend to wake up or to wait for Miyuki to wake him, it took several seconds for Eijun to realize how silent it'd become. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flashed open—and met Miyuki's.
After a beat, Miyuki grinned. "Rise and shine, Sawamura."
"The West Tokyo Tournament Final will begin at 1:00 PM. Today will be a hot day, so please drink plenty of water and be wary of heat stroke while you enjoy the game."
Stepping out into the open bleachers, on instinct, Wakana raised an arm to simultaneously shield herself from the blast of sunlight and the roaring of the crowd.
Taking in the scene, her eyes widened. "What a crowd."
"It is the finals after all," said Eijun's father. However, as he looked around, he seemed impressed as well. "Who'd have thought this time last year that Eijun would be pitching in this stadium?"
"That's right." Eijun's grandfather puffed his chest up proudly. "I'd have expected him to take at least another year."
Biting her lip, Wakana looked down at the field, searching for her childhood friend. "Is it really okay for Eijun to be playing so soon after his concussion?"
"Takashima-san said the doctor's given the all clear." Eijun's father paused. "And if what they're saying about Inashiro and that Narumiya kid is true...they're going to need him."
Gathered in their dugout in various degrees of preparation, the Inashiro team members gazed out across the field at their final opponents.
"Sawamura's back after all, just like the coach said," said Yoshizawa, his brow twitching. "And he's the starting pitcher to boot."
Hirai leaned forward. "A battle right off the bat...well, this is Seidō."
"But that isn't to say he's made a full recovery." Shirakawa gazed eagle-eyed at the figure winding up in the opposing team's bullpen.
Giving no notice as to whether he was paying attention to his teammates' conversation, their ace yawned widely.
Harada leveled a look at him. "Did you not get any sleep last night? You've been yawning all day."
"Have I?" Narumiya blinked away tired tears. With his eyes narrowed, Harada appeared to be contemplating a response, when Narumiya's lips curled back into a humorless smile. "Don't worry. No need to be a worrywart… I was just thinking of ways to defeat them and got too excited to sleep."
When the two teams began to line up in front of their dugouts, the noise in the stadium reached new levels as the watching stands began to roar for their favorites to win.
"The West Tokyo Qualifier final is about to get underway. Under a blue summer sky, both teams walk out to the field.
Inashiro is here to take their second consecutive summer title. Seido is here to get revenge for last year and go to nationals for the first time in six years! They're both top-tier teams nationally! Which one will take this game?"
"Let's go!" shouted the captains.
"Yeah!"
"The crowd welcomes both teams with a round of applause as they run out. They're showing their respect to all the teams that have played, and their excitement for this game."
"Bow!" barked the head umpire.
The two teams bowed sharply. "Good luck!"
With Inashiro being the first to defend, Narumiya had already taken to the mound. As the fielders warmed up with a relay, Seidō's team members huddled around their coach.
"Wait for a meatball until you're cornered. Don't be afraid to strike out, and swing for a specific pitch." The coach's gaze circled around the huddle, making brief eye contact with every individual. "It's hot today. There isn't a pitcher who won't crumble if we make him pitch enough."
The members nodded in affirmation.
"Let's go!" Yūki roared.
"Yeah!"
"Batting for Seidō in the top of the first is their first batter and shortstop, Kuramochi-kun."
Mei raised an eyebrow. If he recalled correctly, Kuramochi was a switch hitter—so why is he hitting left?
"Play!"
Oh wait—of course. There was the other thing this particular batter was famous for. According to both the rumors and the visual he'd seen of it in the Seidō recording, Kuramochi's top speed was nearly comparable to that of Carlos. If Kuramochi was batting left when conventional baseball wisdom dictated that he should bat right against Mei's southpaw pitching, that meant that he wanted to be that much closer to first. In other words, he was prioritizing his speed.
Nodding at Masatoshi's signal, Mei raised his leg and began to wind up. It's obvious you're going for a bunt.
He threw, the ball breaking free from his grip, and instantly began to sprint forward. To his surprise, however, Kuramochi didn't fall into a bunting stance as expected and –
"Ball!"
Coming to a halting stop, Mei frowned and returned to the mound. He could hear Yoshizawa returning to cover his base as well; everyone was on guard for a bunt. But of course Seidō's leadoff was going to waste their time and try to pretend like they weren't going to do the obvious.
Masatoshi paused, and then gave the sign for the next pitch. Mei nodded. Glaring back at Kuramochi, he began his pitching motion and then threw—but once again, Kuramochi didn't move.
On the third pitch, just as Mei was beginning to irritably wonder whether he really was going to try and hit, Kuramochi shifted his grip on the bat as if to switch his stance. Reacting automatically, Mei began to run forward—but instead of squaring down and finishing the bunt, Kuramochi reared back at the last moment.
"Ball!"
As he straightened back into a regular batting stance, a faint grin appeared on the shortstop's face. Mei felt a muscle twitch on his brow. You little…are you going to bunt or are you not?!
With perhaps more strength than necessary, he crushed his foot down on the mound. The ball careened past Kuramochi and audibly slammed into Masatoshi's mitt.
And the verdict was…
"Ball four!" shouted the umpire. Mei balked, and the crowd began to murmur in surprise.
Throwing aside the bat, Kuramochi pumped his fist. "Right on!"
Feeling heat boil up from the pit of his stomach, Mei yelled, "So you weren't gonna swing?!"
"Don't walk him, stupid!" snapped Masatoshi.
Mei was about to retort something back, when he felt an icy gaze from the direction of their dugout grilling into his back. The heat evaporating, he hastily closed his mouth shut.
While it was still just the top of the first inning, they had one out with Ryōsuke's follow-up bunt, and Kuramochi was safely in scoring position on third. In the stands, the crowd supporting Inashiro had briefly fallen into stunned silence, but were rallying once more, calling out encouragements to Narumiya.
"Batting third, center fielder, Isashiki-kun."
As Isashiki stepped up to the plate, Inashiro's outfielders began to move in, clearly preparing to grab an out at home plate. Taking a bold lead from third base, Kuramochi let out a taunting laugh. "Hyaha!"
His face taut with determination, Yūki stepped out of the dugout and into the on-deck circle. Tugging on his batting gloves, Kazuya watched Narumiya wait for their catcher's signal. He had no doubt that Inashiro's battery would be aware of how good Isashiki was at pulling to right field. He shot a warning glance at the third-year, who was aggressively setting up at the plate. There won't be any easy outside pitches, Jun-san.
Narumiya nodded. He paused, taking the chance to twist his head and glare at Kuramochi. Then, he began his pitching motion. An instant later, the ball flew out of his hand, hurtling down to the plate. It had the initial movement of a fastball—but at the last second, it bent. Kazuya felt his brows knit together. Was that a slider?
Despite being taken by palpable surprise, somehow—likely out of sheer willpower—Isashiki managed to finish his swing. Clang! It shot high up into the air, soaring out into the outfield.
"Fall!" Kazuya heard Sawamura chant.
Sure enough, it dropped to the ground between second and center. The stands began to cheer, their voices reverberating around the open stadium. Meanwhile, Kuramochi leisurely stepped home—Seidō had officially taken first blood, leading 1-0. Letting out roars of delight, the rest of the members rushed around the dugout's entrance to welcome the shortstop back.
Kazuya turned his attention to the next batter up. Their trumpets raised toward the sky, the band had begun to perform once more.
"Fourth batter and first baseman, Yūki-kun."
While Yūki began to set up in the batting box, Kazuya watched Narumiya closely. Instead of stomping his feet and throwing a tantrum as he'd expected, the southpaw was coolly tossing the rosin bag in his hand. After a few tosses, he let it drop to the ground.
"Tetsu!" Isashiki shouted from first. "Demolish him! Let's score another run here while we're – " He broke off and dove for the bag, as without warning, Narumiya shot a pickoff in his direction.
"Safe!"
Waiting for the ball, Narumiya held out his glove. What Kazuya could see of his face had become curiously devoid of emotion. He wondered—what did that signify? With Narumiya, one could never tell.
Harada thumped his fist in his mitt and held it up. For a moment, Narumiya stood still. And then raising his leg, he threw. As he followed the ball's trajectory, Kazuya blinked. Were his eyes deceiving him, or was the ball going straight down the middle?
Not one to let meatballs by even on the first pitch, Yūki swung—but to Kazuya's surprise, the high ball arced past him, slamming into Harada's mitt instead.
"Strike!"
It definitely wasn't the pitch the catcher had called for, judging from the way Harada irritably threw back the ball. His expression unchanged, Narumiya caught it.
Kazuya adjusted his helmet. Has Mei lost it?
He hadn't expected Narumiya to crumble this early on in the game…but if he had, that meant all the better for Seidō. If possible, he wanted at least another run with Yūki and Masuko, to give them a lead of 2-0—whatever would lessen some of the pressure on Sawamura. The first-year had said he was fine, and it was true that the sunlight no longer seemed to bother him as much as it had. But that hadn't stopped Kazuya from insisting that Sawamura continue to use his spare sports glasses.
Folding his arms across his chest, Kazuya returned his attention to the mound. Would they use it here? The changeup.
Narumiya threw.
Power rippling down his arms, Yūki swung—and meeting the ball with a clang! sent it popping vertically up, slinging into the net. Despite the thick tension in the air, Kazuya had to smile. Yūki had swung through empty air on the first pitch, but he'd already gotten the timing for it on the second. He'd expected nothing less from their captain.
Harada motioned something, and finally, the cold blank expression on Narumiya's face wavered, giving way to a faint grin. Kazuya felt his smile fade.
"Take him down, Mei!"
"Hit it long, Tetsu!"
He could feel it—the changeup was coming. While it was a bit sudden to confront the wild card of Narumiya's arsenal this early on in the game, Kazuya couldn't have asked for a better chance at it: With Narumiya having lost his cool at giving away a run, and a runner on base while their cleanup was on deck, this was the perfect opportunity to crush Narumiya's money pitch and seize the momentum.
To the backdrop of drums and chants, courtesy of the cheering squads, Narumiya raised his leg. His body bending inwards in his signature style, he slammed down his foot and flung the ball forward. It looked like his usual fastball delivery—but instead of bulleting down the mound, the ball spiraled toward Yūki at a fraction of its expected speed.
Kazuya felt his nails dig into his palms. Yes! It's the changeup!
Instead of immediately going in for the swing, Yūki waited. His hips were rotating, but his arms were still: It was apparent he had been waiting for the changeup as well. As though in slow motion, Kazuya watched the ball spiral down to where Yūki was just beginning to swing his bat. If it continued on its trajectory, it would be a sure hit.
But even before Kazuya had realized what was going on, it dropped down. And for the second time in as many minutes, their cleanup and captain swung through empty air as the ball slammed sharply into Harada's waiting mitt.
The umpire pumped his fist. "Strike! Batter out!"
The grin on Narumiya's face stretched into a gloating leer as the southpaw stared Yūki down. Kazuya felt a bead of sweat roll down his brow. So that changeup wasn't just an off-speed pitch then. It also dropped down like a…screwball?
Whatever the case, one thing had been made clear: Narumiya was not the same person he had been the year before. And the game was only just beginning.
"Bottom of the first. Seidō is on the defense. On the mound is their first-year pitcher, #10, Sawamura."
At the sight of Seidō's own southpaw heading toward the mound, the crowd burst into delighted welcoming cheers.
"Sawamura-kun! Welcome back!"
"Hey monster pitcher, show them what you've got!"
"That first-year really is okay, then?" Ninomiya—Akikawa's center fielder—sounded surprised. "I thought he'd be out of the season with a ball to the head like that."
While some of the other older members of the Akikawa team had decided to return to full-time studying for their upcoming exams, most of them had come to see the final game of the summer tournament. After all, it was the game in which the team that had crushed them went up against the incumbent champions.
Yeung's eyes narrowed. "We'll see, won't we?"
"This is Sawamura's second time starting a game in this tournament. Due to an injury in the quarterfinals, he did not play in the semifinals and was expected to sit out for the final as well, but he has indeed returned as the starting pitcher!"
While Carlos waited in the on-deck circle for Seidō's fielders to finish warming up, the rest of Inashiro's team members sat back in their dugout to observe their opponents.
"He hasn't given up a single run in this tournament so far," Yoshizawa remarked.
"Good for him," Mei snorted out loud from the back. "He's not the first pitcher to do so."
"You're still mad about losing that record, aren't you?"
"I am not!"
"His unorthodox form makes his pitches difficult to time," said Harada, ignoring their ace. "He can paint the corners, and he's got a cutter and an off-pitch." He paused. "I can't say there are any immediately apparent weaknesses to his pitching. But right now…"
"Yeah," Hirai nodded. "It's up to see how his injury has affected his pitching."
"What's with that weakling conclusion, Tsubasa-kun?" Mei sounded grumpy. "Whether he's injured or not, he's just a cheeky first-year. He obviously needs to be taught his place."
"Look who's talking," Harada shot back irritably.
"Bottom of the first. Inashiro's offense begins with number 1, center fielder, Kamiya-kun."
Taking in how Carlos was languidly swinging the bat back and forth, Kazuya motioned to the infielders: Watch out for his bunt. From first and third, Yūki and Masuko nodded in understanding.
Like their own Kuramochi, Carlos' greatest assets were his legs. Even with a pitiful grounder, he had the speed to get on base.
Focusing back on the mound, Kazuya signaled for a moving fastball to start things off. While the fastball was Carlos' favorite pitch, it was also the pitch Sawamura was most comfortable with. Nodding, Sawamura dropped the rosin bag. Bringing his hands together, he began to windup.
At the sight, despite himself, Kazuya found himself holding his breath.
He'd seen it plenty of times before, of course—Sawamura's windup. But seeing it out here in a game, on the dirt mound of a stadium, was different from seeing it in the bullpen during practice.
Sawamura lifted his leg up high, higher than anyone else. And yet somehow, he still managed to keep perfect balance. As he moved forward to pitch, his foot came down, crushing into the ground. Just when it seemed like it was too late, his hips impossibly rotated, and then even before Kazuya could register seeing his arm, the white ball was already spinning through the air, heading straight for his mitt.
Jerking in surprise, Carlos swung, perhaps out of instinct. However, it was too late as the ball slammed into Kazuya's mitt, making a cracking sound like a gunshot.
"Strike!"
"Oi, oi…" Carlos said, sounding none too amused. "How's a pitch like that fair?"
Kazuya grinned. "It's not." Getting up, he threw the ball back to Sawamura.
Until that point, the first-year's face had been calm and focused. But taking in Kazuya's expression, Sawamura broke out into a grin as bright as morning snow that somehow sent something flip-flopping in his stomach. With an internal groan directed at himself, Kazuya crouched back down. He was definitely in deep. Too deep. At this point, there was no saving him, was there?
But that was just fine with him—he didn't want to be saved. Not now.
"Number two, shortstop, Shirakawa-kun."
It was hard to believe that the game that had haunted him in his nightmares—the game that he'd been looking back on and looking forward to for so long, was finally here. It was already the bottom of the first inning, but it was only as he looked down from the mound at Shirakawa's figure, that the here and the now of this moment really began to present itself.
A long time ago, he had faced off against Shirakawa and lost to the pressure. With a hit-by-pitch, he had allowed Inashiro a runner on base and helped kickstart their momentum which would ultimately lead to Seidō's turnaround loss.
But he was different now from who he'd been those years ago.
He could feel the acute stares of his teammates on his back, could feel the weight of the number on his back, could feel the piercing gaze of a certain person who crouched in the catcher's box right before him…
He breathed in deeply.
Give me your best pitch, Miyuki signaled. He nodded and raised his glove to his face, concentrating on the batter standing before him.
In this moment, it was just him and the batter. This one batter who had once stood in the way between him and Kōshien, and who now stood between him and the waiting mitt.
He coiled his body, raising his front foot.
As if I'd let him.
T/N: It's Nov 17th in Japan, and that means Happy birthday to Miyuki.
Hey guys. Really sorry about the long hiatus. I was preoccupied. And starting a baseball match chapter has always been a hurdle. Most of this was from the beginning episodes of the Seido vs Inashiro game in the anime... but the following chapters should divert quite substantially.