Thanks for the interest, guys!

Summer and Summer

by fluxfiction

"Good day," said a mature female voice, early one Monday morning.

For a dorm occupied solely by young teenage males, the effect was immediate. All those in the dining hall found themselves awake whether they were a morning person or not.

It became apparent that Takashima Rei was greeting a certain table despite morning practice not taking place today. There would be a special school assembly to honour their visit to Koushien instead. "Would you have happened to have seen Sawamura?"

The second-years—Kominato, Toujou, Kanemaru, and Furuya caught mid-yawn—shook their heads and indicated the answer was no.

"Wasn't in the indoor training ground," Kanemaru answered.

"He doesn't drop by the indoor training ground until the catchers wake up," Toujou pointed out, glancing near the doorway. Okumura passed by Toujou's vision and Yui was taking back his empty bowls. "He might be there now."

"I see," Rei said kindly. "Kanemaru, Toujou, would you gather everyone here for a meeting in ten minutes?"

The two second-years agreed and left. It didn't take long for more students to wander in, wearing various states of wakefulness, some looking like they'd overslept their early alarms to the sound of rain and a cloudy sky blurred lethargic grey.

Breakfast tray in hand, Okumura was shuffling to his table when he heard:

"Okumura-kun, why don't you join us?"

An invitation that must have reached Yui, who appeared next to Okumura, asking, "May I join as well, Miss Takashima?"

Pleased by Yui's desire to stay relevant, and curious about his motivation behind putting himself forward, Rei agreed. "Of course." Why not? The rest of the room was politely pretending not to listen.

Kominato made space for Okumura, moving Kanemaru's tray. Furuya copied the action for Yui with Toujou's tray even though Yui had no food in hand and seemed very pleased with himself when Yui gave a thankful smile to his senpai.

"Are we meeting to talk about the new lineup?" asked Yui.

"Partly, yes," said Rei. "It's also to discuss the team's new leaders. The staff have come together and decided."

The room's eavesdroppers took a collective breath.

'Then does that mean—'

'The captain is—'

'It's between Kominato, Toujou, Kanemaru, and Furuya.'

'But wasn't she originally asking about Sawamura?"

In the eye of stormy speculation, Okumura's chopsticks stilled. There was no reason for his instincts, but he was as sure of his answer as he knew the distance to throw an out to second base from home.

"It's Sawamura-senpai," he quietly said.

Chapter 2: Slicing Time

"You're the new Captain, Sawamura," said Miyuki. "Kominato is your Vice-Captain. Kuramochi and I have special permission to help the team. And Mr. Kataoka is no longer coaching at Seidou."

"…What?" Sawamura croaked.

"Mr. Kataoka will not be coaching until further notice," said Miyuki.

Sawamura's expression slid terrifyingly blank.

"—ahem." Coach Ochiai coughed, bringing the room's full attention back. "The Fall Tournament is on the way. We have of course received many requests for practice matches. There will be much excitement and fun ahead, following the third-years' retirement, and we will be looking at who is doing well for the new lineup. Regulars, remember you're expected for the school's morning assembly. Additionally, we will have a fitness assessment later this week to check everyone's condition and assess for physical strain. As Ms. Takashima and I have administrative business to attend today, you may see Miyuki and Kuramochi if you might have any questions about your training.

"I am not Coach Kataoka. But, everyone here ought to be aware of what he needs to do. We won the Fall Tournament last year—let's get another victory for Seidou. Do your best."

The door closed behind the two adults. The rain outdoors must have entered the four walls as congratulations began to flood the room.

"Great job impressing the coaches, Sawamura."

"Yeah! Great work!"

"Knew you had it in you!"

"I've always respected your persistence even though you could insult a statue!"

Among the hands clapping his back and arms was Miyuki's firm grip on one of Sawamura's shoulders.

Miyuki said, "Don't worry. Kuramochi and I are here to help for the next month, so long as we keep our grades up. If either of us get drafted, we have permission to stay for longer, too."

Drafted? thought Sawamura, through the haze of people, and the news that Coach Kataoka was… gone.

The people around him returned to their own business, some of them cramming their homework or trying to get a few swings in before there was no morning left. Miyuki did notice Sawamura's mentally absent state. He was addressing it like he usually did if Sawamura was pitching off-colour: he left it be for the duration of that at-bat. Unless it was an obvious injury, there was no need to immediately call a timeout. His job involved babysitting pitchers and he knew very well that Sawamura was the type who shook him off if he thought he was being coddled in the middle of a game.

"—be Vice Captain to someone almost as crazy as Miyuki," Kuramochi was saying to Kominato, "If you need any advice—"

"—Thank you. I'm appreciative of your assistance.—"

"Sawamura," said Miyuki, intending to look back to the pitcher, "When do you want to play the retirement game—"

Far too quickly, the cafeteria was empty.

Sawamura wasn't running from his teammates. He had homework to do! He had to do up his tie for the special assembly!

Sawamura wasn't avoiding speaking to his teammates. He was focused. He didn't embarrass himself or his team at the special school assembly and he somehow finished all his homework. He was practically, by all measures, one of the best most responsible high school baseball players today in the whole modern era.

Sawamura wasn't overreacting when Mr. Kataoka opened the door to his classroom in fourth period, said nothing about that whole special 'farewell as coach and thank you for Koushien' segment during the special assembly, taught class with no interruptions, and stonewalled all attempts for an explanation.

Suddenly, school was over, and the rain had returned after taking a nice, long break around lunchtime. Sawamura changed his shoes and plodded under covered awnings to the edge of the courtyard, fiddling with his umbrella.

'If either of us get drafted, we have permission to stay for longer, too,' Miyuki had said.

"Wonder what's going to happen in the draft," Sawamura muttered and thumbed the release.

"I do too," responded the last voice that Sawamura wanted to hear.

Sawamura's umbrella popped open, but he could still see Miyuki Kazuya waiting for him, wrist resting casually on one hip. Agh! Why did he like the rain and get an umbrella that was transparent?

"I don't have specific hopes of being chosen by a particular team," continued Miyuki. Sawamura moved the umbrella, making out a thoughtful crease in Miyuki's mouth and a dimple in his brow where his glasses met his fringe. "First pick or last, I'd just like to be drafted and keep playing baseball. Though I'd like to be chosen first. That would be great for my ego."

"What are you doing here?" Sawamura said, suspicion in his voice.

"Relax." Miyuki rested the stem of his navy umbrella on one shoulder. "I could see you staring at nothing from the window. What's up? Why are you asking about the draft?"

"No reason!"

"You definitely have a reason." The third-year spun his umbrella cheekily. "Your face is turning blue!"

Miyuki walked away to Sawamura's spluttering.

Eijun wasn't thinking when he caught up with the catcher, drawn to that strong presence, the reliable constant at the foot of the baseball diamond. There was something surreal about this moment, two people walking back to the dorms in the rain. They never crossed paths at school: Miyuki was antisocial and stuck to his floor, and it was always Eijun who sought him out in the third-years' spaces. What convinced him this was real was the bright smell of petrichor flooding all through his senses, and the fact that his imagination would never conjure up the vision of Miyuki as seen from the catcher's back.

His feet grew heavy.

Long summers also come to an end, Miyuki Kazuya.

With all the rain today, the fields would definitely be out of commission. Miyuki didn't rush to grab an indoor training space and neither did Eijun.

… Eijun, the new Captain.

Miyuki had noticed Eijun dragging his feet and stopped at an old oak tree, waiting.

"We beat Koushien," said Eijun.

"Yeah."

"Boss is gone," said Eijun.

Miyuki's umbrella tilted back. "Yeah?"

"It's not right. The team fought for him to stay."

"We managed to make him stay," Miyuki answered slowly.

"I know I'm Captain. I'm… I'm thankful. He was acknowledging me one last time before he left, wasn't he? I'm thankful!" Eijun scrubbed at his face and the tears leaking from his eyes. "But since he left, doesn't that mean—everyone lost?"

The navy umbrella dipped, giving Eijun privacy. Miyuki said nothing and Eijun was expecting that. Then an orange handkerchief peeked past the navy umbrella, and Eijun shifted his umbrella to the crook of his elbow, accepting the third-year's reassurance. He wasn't so out of it that he missed how Miyuki must have been in the habit of keeping his handkerchief within one of his blazer's inside pockets, for it was crumpled, and smelled a little like sweat. But it also smelled clean, was soft and well-loved, and Eijun knew from years of playing in the same battery that Miyuki was careful with his own belongings. He knew very well that the reason Miyuki was most likely to make fun of Eijun's personal hygeine was that Miyuki was one of those people who sweat a lot.

Eijun wiped his face with his hands, then his hands with the handkerchief; this small, Miyuki thing.

They took the gravel path around the fence which bordered the school's bicycle racks. Moments later, Miyuki prevented Eijun stepping onto his usual shortcut, unaware the rain had made it into a muddy slide.

Miyuki cleared his throat.

"It's not surprising," said Miyuki. "Even managing to convince Mr. Kataoka to stay on for six more months was more than we could have asked for. You see this kind of thing in the pros all the time, too."

"You do?"

"A pitcher stops being effective on defence. Or a team already has too many catchers. People who are moved for no reason other than their circumstances." A brief, wistful emotion flitted through Miyuki's fine features. Eijun would have missed it if his umbrella wasn't translucent. "Everyone will face their last day in the game, and all we can do is keep the momentum going until the end. If it turns out I have to give up on baseball and study for university… you'll be fine, Sawamura. You don't need my mitt to slay monsters."

Eijun's mouth dried out. Was this what Miyuki's expression looked like behind the mask, calling for his best pitch?

"Haha!" Miyuki laughed. "You look like you're afraid, Sawamoron!"

"N—No way," said Eijun, grasping the lancing sensation of knee-jerk denial and trying to bury it deep. "I'm not afraid!"

"Okumura's a good catcher."

"I know he is!" He could become Eijun's partner, share wins and losses in a battery, and be the type of rival that inspired each other to continue working on their foundation every day.

What Eijun already knew was that Okumura wouldn't be his goal, or a mentor, or his teacher—Okumura would be a different kind of friend to him.

He wasn't Miyuki.

Kazuya exhaled a huff. So easy to read.

"Don't be so obvious about missing me, Sawamura. It's embarrassing."

In the lightly falling rain, Sawamura fizzled, and Kazuya had no complaints.

"You're pretty stupid," said Kazuya. "You really did pitch fearlessly to a cleanup three times your size while you were in junior high. You were so stupid that you went from a style focused around generating bad hits to one where you forced the nation's best cleanups to defend the plate in the fear they would be taken out without swinging. It's incredible how many times you demonstrated pitching that defied ordinary assumptions. That's one seriously stupid amount of talent as a pitcher."

Kazuya faced forwards, watching other umbrellas bobbing on the shared path, and missed Sawamura's expression.

"Which means," Kazuya continued, "it's somehow doubly impressive you're finding new ways to self-destruct as soon as we suggest you might be capable."

There was a sound like a squeaky toy colliding with a speeding train. Kazuya decided it was a miracle he managed to keep a straight face.

"Sawamura." Don't sound so surprised. "The best pitchers are the ones with an ability to forget what happens if anything goes wrong between at-bats." There's nothing to be afraid of. "You have our respect." We saw you conquer the nation at Koushien.

Kazuya curled a hand into a fist and reached into Sawamura's personal space, glancing only briefly onto red-flushed cheeks and trembling lips. He knocked his fingers against Sawamura's heart, and his mouth parted invisibly when he felt an awkwardness from not having a mitt between his knuckles and his pitchers' heartbeats.

If he had to be honest, Sawamura was always demonstrating his own sense of leadership. He understood the principle of self-sacrifice that was valued in Japanese culture. It wasn't any more obvious than his reluctance to celebrate his personal achievements while the rest of the team lost a coach that half the remaining members had worked so hard to keep.

He would make a very different leader to Kazuya.

"Do what you should do for the team," said Kazuya. "That's all you need."

Kazuya never talked so much before he became Captain. By how Sawamura swallowed, he knew that Sawamura was aware of it, and whatever it was which Kazuya wasn't directly saying.

"I didn't think you knew what fear felt like," Sawamura blurted.

"Huh?" Kazuya blinked. "Of course I get scared, idiot."

"How should I know that? When anything happens, you're either serious, sneaky, or laughing like a—like a—" Sawamura lifted his head, met Kazuya's gaze, and Kazuya saw a thrum of something coursing in his veins. "What are you scared of?"

"Like I'd tell you that."

After the longest, tensest, most awkward conversation in Kazuya's life, which he wouldn't be sure he would ever get comfortable living through again, the field finally came into sight. Sawamura must have noticed through his clear umbrella that the rain had stopped, for he started jogging ahead.

Kazuya was very fine with pretending the talk didn't happen. Really.

He was surprised when Sawamura spun on his feet, fielders' footwork on show, and pointed down the line at Kazuya.

"Listen, Miyuki Kazuya!" Sawamura shouted. "Seidou will sweep Koushien again next year. You just watch from the pros and be amazed!"

"Hahaha!" The laughter bubbled out of him before it could be stopped. "Alright! First step's the Fall Tournament. Show me your Seidou, new Captain!"

The two of them stared at one another, caught in their own world, barely noticing the few people sending odd looks their way as they passed. Kazuya took in the image of Sawamura, his second-year pitcher, this young boy he watched growing into someone truly remarkable.

Kazuya would prove to the world that 'upper limits' didn't exist for someone of Sawamura Eijun's potential.

When Miyuki Kazuya appeared in the empty dining hall, Sawamura had the television on.

Miyuki said, "Good work today, Captain."

"I'm using the television," Sawamura said instantly.

"I'm not after the television," replied Miyuki.

Sawamura squinted. "You're suspicious."

"I am?"

"Yes," Sawamura confirmed. "Like an agent of a former shogun, desiring the sacrifice of the one who took down his master. You're following me around!"

"… You might be Captain now, but you're really not that popular."

In his analogy, Sawamura believed he was not the agent nor the shogun. Miyuki had absolutely no idea what Sawamura was talking about, pulled up a chair, and took a seat without asking for Sawamura's elaboration.

"Oh, this is from our game at last month's Koushien," said Miyuki, arm wrapped around the back of his chair. While he had the television in front of him, he was really looking directly at Sawamura. "Oooh," he added, when Sawamura skipped to Seidou's first pitch. "Today's a retrospective."

"Only because you won't let me pitch, alright!"

Eijun didn't notice Miyuki leaving, only when the catcher came back. Miyuki had changed his clothes between appearances, his hair less lively after he showered. There was nothing unusual there. Miyuki had something under one of his arms and might just be here to get some water before bed. That was common.

He continued to believe that nothing was strange until Miyuki put an item down on one table.

Miyuki said, "Come here, Sawamura."

Eijun stopped the video. He found Miyuki sitting in front of a shogi board, setting up the pieces.

"A while ago, Tetsu-san happened to mention that you're good at this game," Miyuki was saying. "Thanks for filling in, by the by."

Eijun twitched. I don't remember volunteering!

"Take a seat," said Miyuki, and Eijun must have been possessed, for his body again did exactly as annoying Miyuki suggested. He fisted his hands on top of his shorts until he grew tired of how slowly Miyuki was moving, then brushed the catcher's hands away and placed the rest of the pieces deftly into ranks and file. Shogi pieces, unlike international chess pieces, were of the same design and colour for both players, except the two kings.

The last 'king' piece clicked onto the board and Eijun heard a chuckle.

"That's nice. You do think of me as a senpai," said Miyuki.

"Shut up," Eijun muttered, trying not to flush. It was true he'd placed the pieces as he would have with Captain Yuuki: the greater king on Tetsuya's side and the jewelled king on his own, as the jewelled king was traditionally meant to be used by the junior or the less experienced player. "Anyway, amateurs don't follow the tradition—"

Suddenly, the pieces moved. Eijun looked up as the shogi set spun around until the jewelled king was Miyuki's, and the greater king rose proudly on Eijun's half of the board.

"I forgot to tell you," remarked Miyuki, his eyes unclouded through his glasses, clear and defiant, bright discs of burnished gold. Under the tradition, the greater king on Eijun's side marked him as the reigning champion. Eijun became very aware of his heartbeat when Miyuki leaned over. "The next few months will be more fun for me if I try to take you down as a challenger."

You know the expression Miyuki had when he was a kid and the upperclassmen were threatening him, or the one he wore after telling Narumiya Mei he wasn't going to join Club Inashiro? That one. It's that one.

Hope you liked the update! Let me know what you think.