Spoiler Alert: This chapter has spoilers for certain details and the outcome of the Seiko match (covered in manga chapters 328 to 352).

Reasons To Stay

In which Kataoka wonders about the forces of the universe

This had been an eventful week, thought Kataoka. First had come the revelation that the players knew he had resigned from his post after the summer tournament. He'd called Sawamura into the coaches' office the day after the Ouya quarter-final so he and Takashima could find out how he was feeling after pitching all nine innings, encourage him for the progress he had made, and remind him to keep his feet firmly on the ground. Just before leaving, Sawamura had cheerfully declared to him that they were two wins away from Koushien, and all the players had been fighting hard to make sure he wouldn't leave this winning team – so he'd better be mentally prepared!

A few days after that, as if hidden powers of the universe were reinforcing the message of what Sawamura had let slip, his old coach, Sakaki Eijirou, had dropped in at the training grounds during the intra-team match, triggering in Kataoka a barrage of memories from the past – and visions of the future. Sakaki-kantoku had come to inform him that he was returning to the world of high-school baseball after a seven-year absence, and it would be war between them next season – because he would be coaching another West Tokyo school. He'd added: "Don't run away, Tesshin."

So the players were battling to keep him here, and his old coach was telling him not to run – mysterious forces seemed to be nudging him to remain in his post. But a resignation letter, once submitted, could not be taken back. He could only give the team his best while he was here and demand the best from them too, then see what else these mysterious forces would deliver to them in return.

Thus far, a week later, the universe still seemed to be behind them. They had just struggled through a close battle against Seiko High in this morning's semi-final, and emerged victorious – but not without cost. And he feared that it was the players' determination to prevent his departure that was contributing to what they were suffering.

His primary worry was Furuya – the pitcher had re-injured his foot during the game, and was stubbornly refusing to accept that he might have to be rested for tomorrow's final against Yakushi. To keep the youngster from fretting himself into a silent frenzy that would wear down his health and wipe out his limited energy reserves, Kataoka had told him he would be on the roster. However, he must see Higuchi-sensei first thing tomorrow morning, listen to the doctor's assessment of his condition, and obey the instructions that would arise from that medical assessment.

The eagle-eyed Watanabe and Kudou had done a good job – if they hadn't noticed Furuya moving differently during the fifth inning, the pitcher would never have admitted he was hurt, and would have obstinately carried on.

But an equally big worry for Kataoka now was Miyuki. The coach suspected that the catcher had not come out unscathed today from the ninth-inning collision at home plate with Seiko's massive pitcher, Ogawa Tsunematsu. However, he had flatly denied needing medical attention, even though the coaches had specifically asked him to go to the clinic with Furuya after the match.

Surely Miyuki wouldn't be enough of a fool to conceal a serious injury? After having seen what Chris had had to suffer – was still suffering – as a result of gritting his teeth and playing through the pain because he didn't want to let the team down, would he repeat his senpai's mistake?

Kataoka hated to admit it, but a part of him was afraid to know that Miyuki was injured. The moment the catcher admitted he was hurt, he would not hesitate to pull him from the line-up for the sake of the boy's own well-being. However, his removal from the roster would deal a severe blow to the morale of the entire team – horrible timing on the eve of the last match of the autumn campaign. In fact, it would deal a severe blow to Miyuki himself, because every player wanted to play in a tournament final. One as pivotal as the captain, starting catcher and fourth batter would never dream of sitting it out.

If something was broken in a player's body and he couldn't move or was obviously in agony, then no one – least of all the player himself – could complain if he was forbidden to play. But if the kid was moving and training fluidly, and breezily stating he was fine, would it actually be wrong of the coach to force a possible truth out of him and bench him – or worse, withdraw his name from a coveted final spot?

For nearly two years, Kataoka and Takashima had been quietly blaming themselves for not noticing Chris' injury early enough. The boy had disguised it extremely well, and it wasn't unusual for athletes to constantly be nursing some niggle or other – the regular, instinctive massaging of a sore joint or two was nothing uncommon in sports. Still, they were his coaches and teachers, and they hadn't spotted the signs that it was something more serious than an ache.

Kataoka never wanted to see anything like Chris' devastating case again. But Miyuki's case was different for a number of reasons. First, if there was indeed an injury at all (which wasn't certain) it was either mild enough not to hamper his movements, or too fresh to be giving him trouble. Second, there was only one more game this season – which would determine their place at Koushien in spring – instead of a long tournament ahead to worsen any damage there might be. Third, Miyuki was the pillar of this team. If he was determined to go onto that field and showed no indication that he shouldn't be there, Kataoka felt he had every right to play.

Of course, Miyuki's spectacular sayonara home run at the end of today's match was only the tip of the peak everyone had scaled to position the team for victory. Each player and supporter had done an incredible job to the best of his or her ability. But no one could deny that Miyuki, more than anyone else, had borne the weight of responsibility for the team's success.

He'd led by example in not giving up, handled every situation objectively, and guided the pitchers in difficult conditions made worse by Furuya's foot problem and obstinacy. Furuya, losing runs, hadn't wanted to leave the mound in a bad state, but it couldn't be helped. And Sawamura – unpredictable and still working towards consistency – had stumbled at first, losing two runs by not keeping his pitches low, allowing Seiko to draw level on points. But he'd stabilised quickly enough to hold them down for two innings, even pulling off a smooth pickoff and heroically diving to save a hit straight off the batter. The team stopped the haemorrhaging of points, and Kataoka had put Kawakami on the mound specifically to use his precise, low pitches against Nagata, Seiko's slugger of a fourth batter.

Then Miyuki had set aside his objectivity for a moment, allowing a rare glimpse into his personal feelings, when the match was extended after the ninth inning. As he left the dugout, he had confessed to the pitchers that he was indeed a little anxious that if their team didn't score some points now, he'd be letting them down after they'd worked so hard. Then he'd gone out and hit that home run, ending the match instantly with a win for Seidou – and his pitchers.

Which now brought Kataoka to what was going on between Sawamura and Miyuki.

They'd worked decently together this morning, with slightly less of the usual chemistry that had characterised their battery of late. Miyuki had been equally focused on every pitcher during the game, working in the manner best for each player – intimate and encouraging for Furuya, alternating between serious and playful for Sawamura, and trusting Kawakami as his steady, reliable year-mate.

He had not paid special attention to Sawamura – which was good, considering his need for neutrality – and Sawamura had not been overly demanding either. In the dugout after the game was declared extended, Sawamura had been attentive and solicitous of Miyuki's fatigue, offering him a cold drink and eagerly fetching his towel when he asked for it. It had seemed to Kataoka that the two of them were in the process of re-steadying their connection – and he'd gathered that connection had sustained quite a knock in the past couple of days.

In fact, he'd seen the attempts at recovering from the damage before today's game.

The first clue that something had been a bit off on a personal level was just before training kicked off yesterday. The coach had heard Kuramochi say to Sawamura before entering the training grounds: "…dammit, don't avoid me like this – at least come back to our room tonight…"

It stirred the coach's curiosity, but practice hours revealed little, as everyone was focused on improving their own areas of weakness that had shown up in the intra-team game the day before. All he could see was that Sawamura was not as chatty as usual, stuck close to Furuya, Kominato Haruichi, Ono and Kariba, and appeared to be operating on a strictly-business basis with Miyuki and Kuramochi.

They were unlikely to have privacy for a talk during bath time or dinner, and if Sawamura was avoiding their dorm room, then Kuramochi would probably be able to catch him only between practice and bathing, or bathing and dinner, or after dinner.

Luckily for Kataoka's own evening schedule, the shortstop tackled the pitcher – literally – to drag him to the home dugout as everyone else was leaving the field. None of the players apart from Miyuki appeared to think much of it – Kuramochi was always jumping on his roommate, after all, to discipline him for one thing or another, and everybody left them alone. Miyuki, however, reluctantly walked off the field only after a lingering look in the direction of the dugout.

The coach rose from the bench where he was going through the motions of looking through a stack of training notes, and walked up to the strip on the opposite side of the dugout from its entry point – so that when the two boys emerged, they would be less likely to come round by the side where he was.

"Aaagh! Get off me!" Sawamura was hissing when he got close enough to hear them.

"Shut up and just stay still for a second, you loony bundle of hyperactivity! Just fucking listen! I'm NOT making out with Miyuki!" Kuramochi hissed back.

"Yes you are!"

"Am NOT!"

"I saw what I saw!"

"That was my fault. Shit, I hate to admit it, but it was my fault. I just wanted to provoke Wakana into sending me her own picture by sending her the most idiotic shots I could, and I dragged Miyuki into it. We're NOT seeing each other. Miyuki and me, I mean – Wakana-chan's another matter – seriously – can I get to know her better?"

"H… wh… huuuh?!" Sawamura exclaimed, sounding angry and confused all at once. "You're asking me if you can date my childhood friend right after I caught you kissing your classmate?"

"Er, yeah… because the kiss was like a stage act – all act, no substance. Wakana-chan's another matter – I'd really like to get to know her. She says she always knows it's me texting her from your phone because, unlike you, I actually ask her how she is and what she's been doing instead of yammering on and on about how fabulous or crappy I was in the last game I played. Look – whatever… just consider this fair notice that I'm now definitely moving in on your girlfriend –"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"Good!"

"You…"

"And Miyuki and I are not seeing each other."

"You're…"

"NOT seeing each other. Never were, never will be, unless maybe you break both our hearts, hyahahaha!"

"You're really not?"

"Didn't you believe him when he told you?"

"Kind of but not completely." Sawamura's voice was more subdued now.

"Believe me?"

"I suppose you're more truthful than he is."

"I am."

"Can you get off me now?"

"I don't know – you're kind of nice to sit on."

"Kuramochi-senpai!"

"Heh – convince me that you believe me and I'll get off you."

"I believe you."

"Look at me and say it."

"I believe you!"

"Seal it with a smooch?"

"Aaaaaaarrrgh! Get OFF me!" Sawamura's howl was followed by scuffling noises and a couple of light thumps, after which Kataoka could hear the sounds of two pairs of feet shuffling about, and hands briskly dusting dirt off clothes.

"At least you now look like you've trained properly today," Kuramochi chuckled.

"Unlike wrestling-mad leg-monster shortstops who slide all over the bases, pitchers don't usually have to get this damned filthy in normal practice!" Sawamura snapped.

"Especially when they can't bat or run for first base to save their lives and need a pinch-hitter."

"Hey! I don't need a pinch-hitter!"

"One of these days, Kantoku's gonna decide to put one in for you because our rival teams are starting to figure out that all you can do is bunt…"

They sounded back to their normal bickering as they left the dugout from the usual exit point, rounding the structure on the opposite side from where he was, as he had predicted. They left the field without looking back, and thus, without noticing him.

Kataoka tried not to let mental images of Kuramochi kissing Miyuki for the camera invade his mind as he waited for the two kids to disappear from view before heading for the staff canteen.

After dinner, he sent for Miyuki, Kuramochi and Maezono – not to discuss the matter of the captain kissing one of his deputies (news that would surely have floored Zono), but to talk about the starting line-up for the Seiko game. In fact, he made it a point not to hint at personal issues, because he wanted to see what Miyuki was going to do.

"I've decided that Furuya will be the starting pitcher for tomorrow's game, but Sawamura and Kawakami will also have a part to play. Please let the pitchers know." He'd ended the short meeting on that note, and waited. Twenty minutes later, one of the security guards whom he had got to know well over the years, and from whom he'd asked a favour just before dinnertime, came to his office as agreed, to give him the following details:

Sawamura had been talking to Furuya all evening (an unusual scene), and after dinner, the two rivals had gone together to the indoor training facility, where they'd exchanged pitching tips (an even stranger scene). While they were there, Miyuki, Kuramochi, Maezono, Shirasu and the younger Kominato had shown up. Miyuki had bluntly announced to the two pitchers that Furuya would be starting tomorrow's game against Seiko, and they should both get an early night.

As the group of five walked away, Sawamura had yelled that he was now too angry to sleep. Maezono and Kominato had peeled off from the group to do some swinging practice, and Kuramochi had snapped at Miyuki: "Did you have to say that to them when they were both there?"

"They were getting along too well for my liking, so announcing it that way worked fine for me," Miyuki had said with a grin.

"You're showing your nasty side again, you know," Kuramochi had muttered. Even the normally unexpressive Shirasu had frowned.

"I know," Miyuki had replied lightly.

"You need to talk to Sawamura – really talk. He's still avoiding you, isn't he, even after I had a word with him? He's been hanging out with Furuya all evening…"

"Oh, we'll talk."

"When? The semi-final's tomorrow!"

"I'd say… round about… now."

Right on cue, Sawamura had come storming after them, and confronted Miyuki in the passageway about how nasty he'd been to announce something like that in such a manner. Miyuki had suggested that he and Sawamura go to his room to talk, but Sawamura had snapped: "I'm not going to your room – you do weird things with people in rooms!"

The security guard had left the area then – as Kataoka had requested that he should inform him the moment Sawamura and Miyuki might have a chance to talk alone.

"I can tell you where they're likely to go when they want to thrash something out in private," the guard told him with a smile. "I don't know how it was in your time here as a student, but for as long as I've worked here, the boys have often gone to the back of the dorm when they can't get a room to themselves – or in this case, when one of the two is refusing to be in a room with the other."

They passed Kuramochi and Shirasu walking together through the dormitory compound, and nodded to them when they greeted the adults. That meant Sawamura and Miyuki were alone by now – and the security guard was motioning Kataoka towards one end of the middle dorm wing.

It really wasn't Kataoka's style to creep around, ducking behind vending machines and garbage receptacles – he left that sort of thing to Ochiai – but he was starting to worry that the guard was expecting him to do just that.

However, the other man only led him to a storage room that held a mix of cleaning equipment and smaller items of dorm furniture like chairs awaiting repair or replacement.

"I saw the fallout from Miyuki and Kuramochi horsing around last night. But they didn't mean anything by it, and it wasn't my place to interfere. It would be good if Miyuki could work things out himself with Sawamura, you know," the man said quietly. "With the semis and final coming up and all."

The security guard unlocked the storage room door, but didn't switch on the overhead light. He turned on his flashlight instead and used it to illuminate his path as he walked up to the small window at the far end of the room, under which a desk with a broken leg stood, tilting to one side. The guard very carefully and quietly opened the window a crack, then beckoned Kataoka over. He gave the coach a smile and a nod, handed him his flashlight so he would be able to make his way back out later, and left the room.

Kataoka stood by the window in the darkness and listened, and the two boys' voices floated up to him from just a couple of metres below and to the right.

"…because you always come after me with your demands," Miyuki was saying softly. "You're always running after me, asking me to catch for you, or chiding me about something or other you feel I've done wrong. I knew you'd come looking for me this time too, especially if I annoyed you enough to get your hackles up."

"Bloody Miyuki Kazuya," Sawamura muttered, sounding as if he was trying to sound angry, and failing.

"Now that you finally believe me about there being nothing between me and Kuramochi, I need to be honest with you about something else."

"What now?" Sawamura asked suspiciously.

"What I said I wanted to tell you – it wasn't about wanting to be friends."

"Eh?"

"And before you jump to any conclusions – no, it's not about me having some seedy affair with Kuramochi or anyone else either."

"So…"

"So as we agreed before, we'll talk after the autumn tournament, okay?"

"Hmm… okay… er… Miyuki Ka… what are you doing?"

Kataoka could hear the sounds of movement, the light friction of pieces of soft clothing against each other, and a light gasp.

"What am I doing?" Miyuki's voice came at last, sounding slightly muffled, as if his face was half-buried in something. "I'm holding you – making contact – just making contact so you'll believe me."

"Eh?"

"You complain that I say a lot of stuff I don't mean, and I suppose I do, but you also said you could sense if I meant what I was saying on those occasions when I made physical contact, so I'm just… showing you that I mean what I say." There was a gentle smile somewhere in that partially muffled voice.

"Oh."

"Believe me?" Miyuki asked.

"Uh… so… if you don't want to talk to me about being friends… we're not friends?"

"Of course we are. But I'll warn you that on the field, I'm your catcher and your captain, and I won't treat you differently from anyone else. But with regard to what we need to talk about, there's something other than that – and we'll get to it after the final, okay?"

"Okay," came Sawamura's murmur, sounding a bit muffled itself, as if the boy was now nuzzling something – maybe the other boy's shoulder, maybe his hair.

"Trust me?"

"Mmm."

Kataoka carefully and noiselessly closed and locked the window of the storage room, clicked on the flashlight, and walked back out into the passageway, where the security man was waiting for him.

"Did it go well?" the man asked him as he locked the door.

"As well as it should, I suppose."

"Not going to harm tomorrow's game?"

"It had better not."

That had all happened last night, and as it turned out, it might have been the saving of the Seiko match this morning. Because it had left Miyuki mentally and emotionally free to focus on what needed to be done to squeeze out that win right at the end.

But while the unity within the team was strengthening, the cost of the match had been the recurrence of Furuya's foot injury, and very possibly a fresh injury somewhere in Miyuki Kazuya's body, one he was concealing with every ounce of his considerable willpower, along with all the words he wasn't ready to say yet to Sawamura Eijun.