Words written in italics are thoughts.
Words written in "Italics with quotations" are memories taken directly from the anime/manga.
"If it means making the pitcher shine, I'll do whatever it takes. I'll lie if I have to, and make myself hated if I have to."
-Miyuki Kazuya, season one.
Implosion
Miyuki Kazuya hadn't realized it, but what his team thought of him did matter.
Because, apparently, he had no trust with them.
None, whatsoever.
That his heartfelt praises to Nori weren't believed translated to a lack of credibility. It was definitely something he should have addressed before. Maybe if he had he wouldn't be feeling so excruciatingly helpless now...
Kawakami had returned with Manager Ota from the hospital and the verdict was delivered.
A muscle or tendon tear. An MRI was necessary. It was lucky that the injury was discovered, before it got worse.
The doctor and coaches said so, but Miyuki could see Kawakami didn't feel that way at all.
He didn't feel relief, nor gratitude.
All he felt was frustrating defeat. It was plain as day.
"I spent all year preparing for this summer. I will be in the bullpen tomorrow, just like always getting ready. So please don't tell anyone about this."
Miyuki felt for him, truly he did.
He also felt the heavy pressure that Kawakami's absence would create. It would be very difficult to play against Ichidai Sankou with only Sawamura and Furuya.
But he didn't say so, because he didn't want to burden Nori. The most important thing was Nori's health.
So, he gave what he felt was the right advice, as a proper captain.
"Do you understand what you're asking? If you push yourself here you might end up saddled with some permanent damage. Do you have any idea how much time it could take to make a recovery? And even if you did manage to recover, there's no guarantee anywhere you'd be able to pitch the same way as before. College, adult life, you'll have all the chances to prove yourself then…"
Miyuki genuinely believed Nori would continue playing baseball. He felt that way about most of the regulars. But Nori in particular was now so reliable. He'd grown immensely. He was good, and Miyuki couldn't condone him ruining his future in baseball just to play now.
Even though they needed him, he did not want to be selfish. Nori's future was too important.
These had been his honest thoughts.
"No, I'm not like you or the few others, Miyuki."
And yet…
"Playing in college, or in adult life, much less going pro, for MOST people, there is no such option on the table. If it means I can end this summer with no regrets, then I don't mind breaking down here. Please allow me to pitch. Please!"
The coach had refused.
Nori's heart was broken.
Miyuki's was as well.
Because he finally understood. His apparent insincerity was actually a huge problem. He should have made more of an effort to convince Kawakami and the other players of his earnestness. If he had, maybe his current opinion wouldn't be rendered so meaningless.
Kawakami did not understand him at all.
After that painful meeting, Miyuki didn't even try going to bed.
Why attempt the impossible?
Instead, he took his bat and took off to swing in private, hoping to sort his thoughts.
It wasn't working.
The repetitive moment of the bat only seemed to etch the evening's events further into his mind, rather than distract him from them.
It was painful.
So painful.
Nori had been so eager to do well in his last year, and the joy at finally being able to so was perfectly evident, so clear and bright. He had finally realized his own potential and embraced his talent. He wasn't the ace. He was their safety net, their expert closer with a full arsenal of pitches under his command. Their guardian angel's newfound assuredness practically radiated of him.
And this was finally going to be his year to shine.
Miyuki had been so sure of it.
But now he was injured.
Their angel lost his wings.
And Miyuki couldn't do anything for him.
He couldn't even say anything to him.
"I'm not like you, Miyuki."
Not that anything he said would have made a difference.
Because after all this time, despite all of Miyuki's efforts, Kawakami still doubted his own value as a pitcher.
I'm so worthless. Miyuki thought as he swung his bat.
When will he stop misreading his teammates?
Not noticing injuries.
Underestimating growths.
Not encouraging players when necessary.
Failing to encourage them even when he tried.
Worst still, he was completely out of touch with his teammates' true feelings regarding himself.
They didn't understand him at all.
And it was his fault.
For so long he'd put up a front of not caring.
But he'd tried to change. Even he could be honest.
"I'm not like you."
Did he really seem that far out of reach? He was like any of them. They worked just as hard as he did.
"I'm not like you"
Maybe he enjoyed baseball it a bit more? Not because it was easy, he just liked challenges.
"I'm not like you"
But other than that, he was normal, wasn't he?
"I'm not like you"
Miyuki continued swinging his bat, waiting for fatigue to overpower his blackened thoughts.
"I'm not like you"
Sometimes it felt that he was the only person on the team who never improved, never grew.
"I'm not like you"
He was as oblivious and as insensitive as ever.
"I'm not like you."
He was just as clueless, just as unreliable, just as pathetic as he ever was.
"I'm not like you."
"You're better than me! All of you!"
He suddenly shouted, overcome with emotion.
He stopped swinging for a bit, rubbing his hair with one hand in frustration.
I'm just an asshole. You guys are absolute heroes and I can't stand the thought of our season ending!
He felt absolutely gutted.
"Don't show it," he remembered Tetsu saying.
A knot formed in his throat.
"No matter how rough it is."
Miyuki tried swallowing it down. But the frustration kept choking him, until it finally became overpowering and escaped from his eyes.
"If you look lost, the team be lost," the previous Captain had advised.
Furious at his weakness, he scrubbed his eyes violently before resuming his swinging with renewed vigor.
It can't end.
Not like this.
I won't let it end like this.
His swings grew faster.
Not when Nori never had a chance to understand how valuable he is to us.
Because, apparently, I'm an absolute dick who never expressed it properly.
Faster, still, he swung. Recklessly so.
Dammit.
Dammit.
Dammit it all to hell!
Author's note: I think Miyuki is actually much more affectionate than he lets on. The author has shown us enough of his internal thoughts to show this. And we see it in how he treats emotionally weaker characters like Kawakami and Furuya. But his reputation for being sneaky and underhanded is too strong for anyone to see it. For now it seems like the only person on the team who understands him is Kuramochi. A fact I intend to fully explore.