Spying Game

In which Animal's friend is in a quandary

Note: This chapter is from an OC's point of view, but unlike the canteen staff in Chapter 3, this one needed a name.

Picking out Animal's son at Seidou had been easy. The boy had his father's bearing and a healthy dose of his genes, expressed in thick, wavy brown hair, unusual citrine-coloured eyes and an exceptionally light complexion. But his beauty – now, that had to come from his mother, because Animaru-san, while a good-looking-enough bloke, was a far cry from pretty.

Not that Kouta Youji would know what the kid's mother looked like. His relationship with Animaru-san had never involved discussions about family. Yet, he was one of his closest friends, in the sense that male buddies were close (Kouta's wife would disagree about what constituted a close friendship, but that was women for you). It was just that when he and Animal got together, their exchanges revolved around sports, arguments about the best recipes for the sake punches they mixed at their gatherings, pop philosophy and jokes about current affairs.

Kouta's family had for decades been involved with the sporting world – athletes, managers, coaches, physiotherapists, sports-equipment makers and groundskeeping experts littered his clan. So he was acquainted with famous pros through his work and personal contacts. J. Animal, retired baseballer, was among them. Kouta liked Animaru-san very much for his larger-than-life personality and warmth to everyone regardless of their social status. Even if others might find the man a peculiar gaijin celebrity who spoke comically bad Japanese, he got along great with him.

When Animal had learnt last year that Kouta's sports-facility maintenance company had signed a contract to maintain Seidou High's baseball fields, equipment and sports fixtures for the next academic year, he'd grinned widely and said: "That's wonderful, Kouta-san! My son, Yuu, is a second-year student there. He isn't so involved with the team any more as he's recovering from a shoulder injury, but do keep an eye on him for me, will you?"

It was the first time either had mentioned a family member to the other, and Animaru-san had said it with a cheery laugh and a wink, which meant he hadn't intended it to be taken seriously. So when the new academic year began, Kouta had only casually observed the polite, handsome kid – now a third-year student – called Chris by his schoolmates. He never made himself known to the boy as his father's friend.

He learnt that the kid had been a brilliant catcher who'd inherited his old man's tactical sense, until the injury had put the brakes on all that promising development. From what Kouta could see, he now did administrative work and light training with the second-string team before leaving the school grounds in the early evenings for physiotherapy under his father's supervision.

Then, several weeks into the academic term, Kouta met Animal at a mutual friend's gathering, and the boy's father confided that he was worried about Chris.

"That kid's been keeping secrets from me! Can you believe it? Yuu is supposed to be going slowly and carefully through rehabilitation, but I've found out, thanks to some crazy boy barging in on his physio session last week, that he's begun seriously training with the team again, and even catching for the first-year pitchers!"

"What?" Kouta asked, concerned. "I've only seen your son keeping records and doing light training. I didn't know he was catching for the pitchers."

"Kouta-san, please – if you happen to spot him doing anything that could damage his shoulder again, let me know. Although the extent of his injury was his fault since he hid it from his coaches, I also blame those coaches for playing him until he broke, and for being so easily fooled by the denials of a child each time they asked if he was fine. As you know, unlike in America, high-school baseball coaches in Japan don't even need proper courses or certification – I'm not sure they know what they're doing sometimes."

So Kouta had done his best to take note of Chris' activities, and had texted Animaru-san once a week to assure him that his son looked fine despite coaching the first-year pitchers. In fact, he looked healthier and happier than he had earlier in the term, when the expressions on his face had been limited to variations of sombreness.

Still, it didn't improve Animaru-san's blood pressure when Kouta was obliged to warn him that Chris appeared to be among the second-string players preparing for a practice match in a few days. Luckily for Chris, the boy himself had decided to stop hiding things from his father, because Animal texted to reply that Yuu had been honest enough to inform him about the same thing a few minutes after Kouta.

The father had attended the match, and made angry comments to the spectators around him during the first inning, which was how Kouta discovered that the "crazy boy" he had previously mentioned was that loud-voiced first-year pitcher whose training Chris seemed to be in charge of.

Then Kouta's heart missed a beat – and Animaru-san must have come close to a heart attack – when Chris went for the ball and crashed into the boundary fence. But everyone breathed again when the catcher emerged from that lunge unhurt, and Seidou won the match. It seemed to reconcile Animal to his son being as baseball-crazy as he'd been in his youth; he later said to Kouta that Yuu was old enough now – and hopefully had learnt his lesson from his shoulder injury – to gauge what was best for himself.

But at their next gathering, Animal's brow was knitted all over again as he muttered: "Something's going on with Yuu, and he's not telling me about it."

"Eh? After that match, you were happy with how he'd proven you wrong about everything you'd feared," Kouta said.

"No, it's not about his involvement with the team any more. He's open with me about that now. Something else is strange about him. He keeps smiling to himself these days, and says it's nothing when I ask. It must be a girl – he must be going out with some girl and is afraid to tell me because I'll nag him about getting distracted from his studies. Have you noticed him spending more time with anyone? One of the student-managers, maybe? That third-year – what's her name – Fujiwara Takako? She's very elegant and pretty and probably just his type – he's known her since their first year at Seidou."

Kouta hadn't noticed Chris spending more time than usual talking to the girls, or paying more attention to any one of them, and he told the boy's father so.

"Still, please help me look out for any unwise things he might be doing, won't you?" the man requested, and this time, there was no cheeky wink, which meant he was serious. "I don't need him getting his heart as well as his shoulder broken if things go wrong. It's his final year of high school. He needs to do well in his exams to get into a good university."

So whenever he had the opportunity during the workday to observe Chris, Kouta noted his interactions with girls, to see if he might be interested in any of them. But the youth wasn't paying particular attention to anyone other than the pitchers he was training, and socialised mainly with his teammates. As for the beautiful Fujiwara girl, she seemed to be in a vaguely romantic relationship with another third-year player – the outfielder who kept a goatee (and apparently got away with it because no one wanted to discipline a valuable first-stringer with a vile temper over something as minor as facial hair).

So he texted his friend one hot summer afternoon: "Animaru-san, I don't think your son is doing anything unwise. I've seen nothing that would give you cause for concern."

The boy's father texted back: "Thank you for looking out for him. I'm relieved to know he isn't doing anything stupid."

Sure that Chris' dad had been fretting over nothing, Kouta put his phone away as one of his crew came over to hand him a chilled canned drink. He gratefully accepted it and took a break from the pitching machine he'd been repairing.

The players were spread out over the grounds, working away around the batting area, in the bullpen, on the fields, and in the indoor facility and gym, while others crouched on the ground with the coaches to discuss tactics, or asked the student-managers for fresh crates of balls to practise with. He enjoyed the sight of all these enthusiastic youngsters expending their energy on what they were most passionate about.

His attention was abruptly drawn to the bullpen when a particularly loud yell came from Crazy Boy – something impossible to understand about how he was "perfectly fine pitching to Ono-senpai, thank you very much, and I don't need help from you any more than my pillow needed to be humped by you!". The yell was apparently directed at the bespectacled catcher – whom Kouta knew was the ingenious Miyuki Kazuya. He'd often seen Crazy Boy hounding Miyuki to catch his pitches, but today, he sounded irritated with him and appeared to be trying to avoid him.

Just a tiff between schoolmates, thought Kouta. It would blow over in no time, the way minor spats went between teenage boys.

The one called Ono, however, was called away by an assistant coach, and Crazy Boy would be catcher-less without Miyuki as the others were occupied. But Kouta smiled to see Chris detach himself from a group discussion to enter the bullpen, where he told Miyuki he would catch for the first-year. Such a peacemaking kid – his father should be so proud of him.

Crazy Boy's face shone when he realised the third-year was available – and Miyuki Kazuya was dumped.

From his past observations, Kouta knew that Chris was coaching the first-year pitchers, but had been specifically put in charge of Crazy Boy. It was good, then, that they got along well. The younger kid clearly adored his senpai, and Chris seemed to have truly taken this kouhai of his under his wing. Kouta could easily see that much – even behind the bars of the protective face cage, Animal's kid was smiling, looking genuinely happy.

He always looked happy to catch for Crazy Boy.

In fact, Chris never looked as alive as when he was with Crazy Boy, now that Kouta thought about it…

Oh.

No.

But those citrine eyes were glowing behind the bars – lit up with pleasure and pride – as they gazed on the first-year. Kouta got up and walked, drink in hand, to the side of the bullpen to study the younger boy carefully. Of course he'd observed him before, but he'd never taken specific note of him.

He watched him now as he pitched, again and again, with occasional corrections from Chris. He was a regular boy. Nice looking, but not exceptionally so for a 15- or 16-year-old – unlike Chris and Miyuki, who were blessed with the sort of bone structure the camera would always love from any angle. This kid wasn't in that league – his most attractive feature was his pair of huge, expressive eyes with a distinct glimmer of amber in the irises. And his most unusual characteristic was a surprising degree of flexibility in his joints. Other than that, he was your average, rather-cute-but-not-too-beautiful teenager. Then again, that blindingly open face, brilliant smile and fiery character – so different from Chris' reserved personality… perhaps opposites really did attract.

He needed to watch them interacting far more than this to draw firmer conclusions, but work was calling, and he returned to the jammed pitching machine, which kept him absorbed for a long time. When he next looked up from his view of moving parts, wrenches and grease, Chris and Crazy Boy were gone.

The next day, he didn't have the chance to see them together, for work spared him no time to play the spying game on behalf of Animaru-san. But purely by chance, he overheard a player's passing remark to another about how the indoor training facility was always in use late into the night "because of crazy fellows like Sawamura". Sawamura – Sawamura Eijun – that was the boy's name, wasn't it?

Perfect. Some gym equipment had been cordoned off in a corner of the indoor facility for checks and maintenance – nothing urgent, as the school had back-up sets, but it was the excuse he needed to stay back late for a few nights "to clear the backlog", as he told his team and the security staff.

The first night, he was unlucky, for Sawamura was pitching to someone called Miyauchi, with the head coach present. But the second night, he got particularly fortunate, because Chris and Sawamura came in after dinner, and practically had the place to themselves. They saw him there, tinkering with the gym equipment, but apart from acknowledging him – a polite nod from Chris and a hearty "Konbanwa!" from Sawamura – they didn't take particular notice of him. That was the good thing about being on the maintenance team when one just wanted to fade into the background.

The more he watched in between tightening nuts and bolts and oiling moving parts, the more his heart sank as he wondered how he was ever going to explain this to Animaru-san.

Because Chris was glowing, and finding a lot of reasons to rise from his catcher's crouch, pull off his face guard, and walk over to Sawamura to adjust his posture.

Murmured comments like: "…from where I am, here's what I see when your pitch veers more to the inside than it should – your right leg drops a shade too far to your right, and your pitching arm also swings too far towards your right…" All spoken as Chris stood very close behind the kid, one hand on the boy's raised right thigh, the other hand on his left arm, fingers curling lightly over the first-year's wrist, and his lips almost, almost brushing the boy's left ear.

Sawamura's face was a picture of concentration. The faint flush on his cheeks, as far as Kouta could tell, was only the heightened colour of physical and mental exertion. Nowhere close to approaching the look of fascination… no, desire… in Chris' golden eyes, or the barely-there curve of Chris' lips that whispered of a secret withheld from everyone.

And those hands – Chris was keeping his hands on the pitcher's body longer than he had to. Kouta noticed, and he was sure a coach would notice too, if one were present. However, Sawamura was oblivious. He looked at Chris with innocent admiration, childlike, puppy-like, nothing resembling what was emanating from his senpai.

Damn. What was he supposed to say to the boy's father now?

Animaru-san, have you asked your son if he's close to any boys in particular? (Because he's standing really, really close to one right now.)

Absolutely not. Not unless he wanted to give his friend a stroke.

A different kind of stroke from what Chris was giving Sawamura's right hip – ostensibly to nudge that uncannily flexible leg into the right position for maximum downswing power – but in reality, probably so he could maintain contact without being called out for it.

Crap.

Animaru-san, perhaps you should ask Chris to bring one of his teammates home for dinner. (Because your son looks like he'd love to take one boy home forever.)

No, no, it would have the kid's old man in a frenzy of speculation.

In the end, Kouta sighed, stood up from the rowing machine he was fixing, and zipped up his bag of tools. The boys looked over, momentarily distracted, and Sawamura bowed to him. Chris had the good grace to blush a little – perhaps he had forgotten that an adult was present, and adults tended to notice things that would go over the heads of kids like the one he had his hands on right then.

Kouta sighed again, nodded to them, and left the building. He went to a bench at the far outer corner of the indoor training facility, where he wouldn't be seen by the boys if they came outside now. He sat down and took his mobile phone out of his pocket, then started text after text to Animal, only to delete every one before he could complete it or think about tapping on "Send".

Animaru-san, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but I think your son is in love with Crazy Boy.

He didn't know how long he'd sat there before keying in that latest string of words, but just as he was contemplating the message, he heard voices. Peeking carefully round the corner, he saw that a third boy was now at the entrance of the building.

"Tanba-san!" Sawamura greeted him. "Are you here to practise too? We've just finished!"

It was the team's third-year ace.

"Chris – a word?" Tanba asked, in a voice that sounded both firm and soft – rather like Chris, who spoke very softly for someone who held so much authority among the players.

"I'll be off, then!" Sawamura chirped. "Thanks for the coaching, Chris-senpai! Konbanwa, Tanba-san!"

The boy ran off in the direction of the dorms, leaving Chris and Tanba near the doorway.

As soon as Sawamura was out of earshot, Kouta heard Tanba say: "Chris, he doesn't know. It's not too late to stop."

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked.

"Sawamura. Don't proceed. Back off now, and he'll never be the wiser."

"What do you – what on earth do you –"

"I've seen the way you look at him, the way you touch him. And it's only been two days since Kantoku asked you to be a buffer between him and Miyuki while they resolve their spat, but you've moved in so fast… I've never seen you like this."

Chris dragged a hand through his hair and glanced away for a few seconds, then faced his teammate again to ask: "Tanba, are you doing this for him, or for me?"

"I'm doing it for me," Tanba declared. Under the fluorescent lighting, his face was reddening, Kouta could see. For such a tall and imposing-looking youth, with an intimidating shaved head and grim facial features, he was surprisingly awkward now, and… yes, shy.

"You…?"

Tanba reached out with his right hand and curled his fingers around Chris' left bicep. His hand moved towards Chris steadily, yet his fingers touched him tentatively, as if he was determined to make the approach but afraid to actually make contact.

"I know you've never thought of me that way," Tanba said, so quietly that Kouta had to strain to make out his words. "I thought you liked girls. Maybe you do, I don't know – maybe Sawamura's an exception. But I'm asking you now to consider thinking of me that way. And to back off from him before it's too late – before he notices."

Tanba ran his fingers hesitantly down Chris' arm to his wrist, but stopped short of touching the other boy's hand before withdrawing his own. He stepped back, looked at him a moment more, then murmured a goodnight before walking away. Chris, left alone, leaned back against the front wall beside the doorway and blew out a long, slow breath.

He stayed there, unmoving, until a group of players came walking towards the building, at which point he pushed off from the wall and strode away.

Kouta watched him go, then leaned back against the bench and stared into the darkness for some time before looking at his phone again. He shook his head and deleted the text he'd keyed in, put his phone away and headed home. He couldn't do it. Wouldn't have the courage to deal with his friend's reaction. Perhaps he'd find the guts another day, but for now, he'd keep those boys' secrets.