Affectation and Affection
Miyuki lost count of how many swings he'd thrown.
His shirt was absolutely soaked through with sweat when. Suddenly his exhaustion finally surpassed his anger and frustration and, like a puppet with its strings cut, he crumpled onto the grass.
"Had enough?"
Glancing up he saw Takashima Rei looking down at him in concern, her hand reaching out to give him a handkerchief.
He accepted it gratefully and swiped at his face, grateful for the dark that would make it impossible to distinguish what exactly he was wiping.
"Rei-chan. What are you still doing here?"
"We just had a few more things to wrap up."
"Thanks for your hard work," he panted, his racing pulse taking its sweet time returning to normal.
He wrapped the cloth around his neck.
"I'll give it back after I wash it."
"Keep it, I've got dozens."
"Nice of you to look out for us boys," he breathed out, with a ghost of his usual smirk.
"Most players have the good sense to bring a towel along when they practice, especially during summer," she countered.
Somehow, it irked her, his assumption that she just handed out her personal items left and right, when in fact she strove to maintain a professional distance with the players.
Especially this one.
"You should shower soon before you catch a cold. Even a summer breeze can make you sick."
"Yeah, just let me catch my breath, Rei-chan," he sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair.
Takashima Rei has known Miyuki Kazuya for almost five years now, ever since she prematurely scouted him when he was only a 12-year-old first year in middle school.
She watched him grow up. As such, she became privy to some facts about his family that made it difficult for her to keep him at arm's length.
And though he probably didn't do it intentionally, he nevertheless seemed to enjoy making it harder for her. Like when he bestowed upon her the nickname of "Rei-chan".
"You were Rei-chan before you were ever my teacher," he'd said with a grin when she asked him to address her formally.
Even the other student's started calling her that, although they at least had the sense of adding "-san" at the end.
She was used to it now, but it served as a reminder to never let students get too close.
But now, observing their star catcher's slumped shoulders, she couldn't help letting her guard down a bit and taking a seat on the grass next to him.
When Coach Ochiai had suggested Rei talk to Miyuki she didn't think an opportunity would present itself so soon. But on her way home, she'd glimpsed Miyuki, and how hellishly he'd been swinging his bat. She couldn't help but approach him.
Now what? What exactly am I supposed to say?
Coach Kataoka was a perfect study in watching over players from an appropriate distance. Imagining what he'd do in this situation, Rei decided to follow his example and keep things simple.
First, she waited for the player's breathing to even out a bit. Only after he sat back, cross legged with his arms stretched out behind him on the grass as he looked up at the sky, did she ask him if he was okay.
"Just peachy," the young man said tersely, smirking at the dark clouds above.
Rei sat waiting, hoping he'd speak when, and if he was ready.
He finally sighed, head and hands falling into his lap as he gazed straigh into the dark distance.
"I just don't know, Rei," Miyuki said huskily, almost to himself.
Well, that's new. This time he's not even bothering with the -chan.
She really should put him in his place. But she didn't think he meant to be disrespectful.
He probably did it unconsciously, she reasoned. Though why he addressed her so intimately in his mind was a question for another day.
"You're worried about Kawakami-kun?" she ventured
He shook his head.
"Well, of course," he qualified, "but it's more than that."
"Yes?"
A long silence settled as a cool summer wind blew, strong enough to ruffle her ponytail and his sweaty bangs.
"It's like there's the team, there's me, and then there's this insurmountable wall that, no matter what I do, I cannot seem to breech," he divulged, at length.
"That can't be true," Rei started, taken aback at his uncharacteristic honesty.
Ochiai was right. This is hitting him hard. What am I supposed to say in this situation?
"It is," Miyuki sighed. "The thing is I never used to care. To make the pitchers shine, I didn't care if I was hated. To make the team stronger, I didn't care if I was liked. All I cared about was that we won. But now…"
He hated to admit it, but he wished he had Maezono's sincerity, or Kuramochi's observation of people, Sawamura's enthusiasm or even Furuya's aura.
But even when he tried to change, even when he expressed himself...he just couldn't get through to them.
"We've been through so much. And I honestly respect them all, hell I'm trying to learn from them all, and yet…"
A confused Miyuki suddenly clammed him mouth shut, no doubt realizing he was being a lot more expressive than he ever intended.
There it is, Rei thought wryly, watching while he tried to compose himself.
Miyuki Kazuya was easily the most complicated person she ever met.
He broke all semblance of hierarchy between them and acted like they were old friends. But paradoxically, he was always hyper vigilant at keeping his personal thoughts to himself, contradicting his apparent desire for intimacy.
It wasn't just with her. He was like that with everyone.
Maintaining his unbreakable image seems to supersede everything else.
Takashima was usually grateful for that habit. It kept them from getting inappropriately close.
If only she could stop worrying about him.
It was hard, because she knew he was always pushing himself.
Ever since they first met, Miyuki would visit Seido's grounds to watch the team practice. He could only do so on the days where he didn't have practice or matches at his own middle school baseball club, so it wasn't very frequent. But it was enough that most of the staff had gotten to know the cute smart mouthed boy. After all, he'd always make sure to greet her.
She never thought anything of it, besides admiring his vigilance in studying their team. He always had a notebook with him. But a now retired fellow teacher once teased her that maybe he was coming to see her, rather than than the players.
Rei had not been amused.
Two years later, shortly before he graduated from middle school, she visited his house to meet his father and formally offer Miyuki Kazuya a scholarship at Seido.
That was the day she had learned from his stoic father that Miyuki's mother passed away when he was very young.
Her colleague's words had echoed in her ears.
If he was fixated on her, she now knew why.
Suddenly she no longer saw him as a confident, happy-go-lucky, cheeky, intelligent boy.
He was now a teen, one who threw himself into his favorite sport, to escape a home devoid of a mother's love.
Rei had vowed she would watch over him.
And yet, last season, he had managed to hide an injury from her.
Even when it was discovered, he pretended to be fine.
Takashimi had been livid. First, it had been due to her for for him. Also at herself for not realizing his injury sooner. But if she were honest, she would say that there was another reason why she had remained upset, even after she had rejoined coach Ochiai.
"If we lose here, there would be no Koshien for us, Rei-chan."
The reasonableness of his argument had left her speechless.
The boy had grown up. He no longer needed her. Maybe he never did.
But she had been correct when she assumed his strong front was a pretense; that he had been playing down his pain.
That became clear as day when he fell apart on their way to the hospital.
"This is too hard; you guys be Captains" he had bemoaned to his co-captains as he wilted right in front of her.
Initially she was frighted, then amused at his rare moment of weakness. Miyuki wasn't as unflappable as he appeared. She would have to keep watching over him.
Not that he ever made it easy.
Even now, at this very moment, she knew he regretted opening up to her.
Watching his ducked head, as he swallowed his embarrassment, she could hear his mind spin as he tried to come up with something sarcastic to say, to erase his earlier lament.
Why? Why this need to always appear strong?
She was about to ask, and suggest, like she had once before, that he be a bit more honest, instead of keeping everything bottled inside, when a voice called out to them.
"OI!"
Both turned to see Kuramochi jogging over to them.
A small grin appeared on Rei's face at seeing the dependable co-captain come for the first student she ever scouted.
I knew he would.
Glancing furtively at Miyuki, she saw the dejected look on face turn to one of surprise.
Perfect timing, she thought. More than anything, what Miyuki needs right now is validation from a fellow player.
Because no matter what she said, it just didn't carry the same weight.
Those boys had a camaraderie that she could never hope to achieve, after all.
"You jerk, I knew you'd be here!"
"What is it now?" Miyuki asked, springing to his feet, not wanting his co-captain to see his heavy posture. But his fatigue must have finally caught up with him. At the abrupt movement his head started spinning and he teetered sideways.
Rei scrambled to her feet just in time to help him regain his balance, steadying one arm, while Yoichi sprinted the last few steps towards them at full speed to grab onto to the other.
"Woah! Are you okay?" his eyes flashing in concern.
"I'm fine, it's just vertigo," a blushing Miyuki snapped, pulling his arm away from his teammate as soon as he caught his footing.
But not from his beloved Rei-chan, Kuramochi mused inwardly, filing away that piece of information for later.
"Perfect timing, Kuramochi-kun," the older woman said, handing the catcher back to his teammate. "I was just about to tell your Captain he's had enough practice."
"No kidding. He needs his beauty sleep or he won't do well tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll be sure to take the idiot back."
"And here I was worried we had another emergency." Kazuya clipped, shaking his head ruefully. "No one gives me any respect. Seriously it's not even funny anymore. You'd think I was playing hooky or meeting up with a girl in secret instead of practicing."
"You'll have my respect when you stop worrying over everything by yourself," Yoichi retorted. "I heard about Kawakami. It's too bad."
"Who is worrying?" Miyuki raised an eyebrow. "We'll just have to win tomorrow, and the finals as well, to give him a second chance at playing," he stated firmly, happy to hear that his voice, and he, were both back to normal.
"Sounds like a plan," Rei smiled warmly, pretending she'd forgotten his brief display of vulnerability, "I do not doubt your success."
Miyuki, grateful that she was indulging him and keeping quiet, couldn't help but smile back.
"Good Rei-chan."
"Good night, Miyuki-kun."
As soon as his back was turned a grim look of determination crossed his face.
We will succeed. There's no other choice.
Watching them walk away, Kuramochi supporting Miyuki's arm on his shoulder, a lovely warmth permeated Rei's being.
"You can let go now, I'm fine," she heard Miyuki complain.
"Like hell you are," the shortstop sniped back.
She loved her boys. All of them.
But the ones she scouted personally always had a special place in her heart. And these two were no exception.
From the bottom of my heart, I wish you all the success in the world.
Author's note: I absolutely adore Rei and her relationship with Miyuki. I couldn't delve deeper into it here because it would overpower the main theme in this story. But I've written a few ideas and hope to write more about them in the future.