Spoiler alert: This chapter contains some details and information about the outcome of the autumn-tournament final between Seidou and Yakushi.

Catching Sawamura

In which Ochiai gets infected

The contagion was remarkably… well, contagious. Ochiai fully grasped this fact only when it was too late. It struck him when he found himself smiling – with genuine amusement at that – in the indoor facility the night before the final game of the autumn tournament, at Sawamura's hilarious reaction to Kataoka's unexpected appearance at his impromptu training session.

The coaches had held a post-dinner meeting in which Kataoka had revealed that despite his reassuring words to Furuya earlier, he was not including the ace in his tactical plans for tomorrow. He would rely primarily on Kawakami, and Sawamura to relieve him. Kawakami's precision and reliability needed no special preparation, but Sawamura's variability of form, compounded by his miserable track record against Yakushi, made him a risky proposition. With that in mind, Kataoka had led him, Takashima and Oota to where Sawamura was most likely to be at this time – the indoor training area.

There, they had indeed found the pitcher poised to learn the two-seam fastball under Miyuki's tutelage. Ono was catching, and nearly all the retired third-years made up the audience. When Kataoka entered, Sawamura's cheerful facial expression had altered instantly to one bearing a comical degree of shock and stress, accompanied by the knee-jerk, stuttering yell of "B-Big Boss!".

That was when it happened. Along with Takashima stifling her chuckles beside him, Ochiai actually found himself smiling. Smiling at Sawamura. Not in a cynical way at how hopeless the boy was, but in an almost… curse it all, but there was no other word for it… an almost fond way, because the boy was cute when he was flustered.

Hell and damnation. He'd been infected by Sawamura Eijun.

As if this realisation alone wasn't enough to drive him slightly round the bend, that session in the indoor facility brought home more strongly than ever how charismatic Kataoka was, and how much heart he put into developing these players in ways that brought out the best in them. Ochiai suddenly knew it would be impossible for him to fill Kataoka's shoes. He was every bit as capable a coach as that man, better in many ways, but he didn't have Kataoka's passion, which mirrored and multiplied the players' passion, and brought out the will and courage that had carried the team through situations on the field Ochiai would have given up on.

It wasn't fair to expect him to step into the shoes of such a man when he himself was a completely different kind of coach – good for any team that desired his technical and physical-training expertise, but not for Seidou, which ran on heart.

With his dismay at discovering he'd caught the disease that made people gravitate towards Sawamura, and his epiphany that Kataoka was the perfect coach for Seidou, the secretiveness in Ochiai snapped just a little. He found himself doing yet another unspeakable thing that evening: pouring bits of his heart out to Takashima there and then by lamenting to her that Kataoka didn't play fair – how could he bow his head to him and ask him to take care of the team, and then show him precisely how amazing a coach he was to these kids?

Takashima hadn't said anything, and if he'd been in her shoes, he wouldn't have known what to say either. He couldn't understand this woman – her values were nothing like his – but he was glad that in this moment of weakness, she hadn't gloated, or laughed at him; she'd simply listened with – was it compassion mingled with the surprise there?

So he'd got what he needed to get off his chest, as the inevitable happened: Sawamura, after demonstrating all that was useless about his learning abilities, had a sudden leap of intuition hatched in response to Miyuki's and Kataoka's joint demand that he give them his very best and neatest fastball for his last pitch. He pulled off a wonderful delivery that made the ball appear to speed up midway towards the catcher's glove – Miyuki had taken Ono's place by then.

Kataoka had allowed Sawamura ten more pitches after that, and by the end of the session, even Oota seemed less panicky about Sawamura facing Yakushi.

The adults returned to the coaches' office, and when their discussions about their preparations for the next day were over, Ochiai knew what he would say to the principal and vice-principal at the end of the final game. If Seidou won, he would tell them it was Kataoka who'd made the victory possible. Even if they lost, he'd tell them it was Kataoka, not him, who'd got them to the final at all, because he had refused either to sacrifice the whole team for one person, or to sacrifice individuals who hadn't seemed of use to the team. If Ochiai had been in charge, kids like Sawamura, Watanabe, Asou, Kudou and others would have been forced to leave long ago. Yet, these very players had been pivotal in bringing the team so far this autumn. So they'd better make Kataoka take back his resignation letter.

He'd gone to bed that night preoccupied with thoughts of the bothersome process of starting a new job search. But popping up annoyingly in a corner of his mind was also Sawamura and his effect on people. There was even an odd curiosity about whether any developments had taken place between the southpaw and Miyuki after that private moment he'd witnessed in the indoor facility a few weeks ago, when Miyuki had secretly touched Sawamura's face while the pitcher was asleep.

In the morning, Ochiai returned to the school to find that Kataoka and Takashima had taken Furuya to see Dr Higuchi. The verdict, when they returned, was that Furuya could play one inning at most – possibly less or not at all if he felt any pain in his foot. So that settled it for the pitching relay – Kawakami for most of the game, then Sawamura, and if it was appropriate, Furuya right at the end.

When Takashima said she would update the captain about Furuya, Ochiai trailed behind for want of something better to do than rack his brain about teams that might be in need of a coach. They'd been informed that Miyuki was in the indoor facility with Sawamura and Kuramochi, so Takashima went in, while Ochiai hung about outside. He listened as she informed Miyuki about Furuya's condition, and heard the expected "captainspeak" sort of reply about how it was a relief to know Furuya could be on the bench at all, and that he was crucial to the team. Takashima's comment that Miyuki should tell that to Furuya himself, and Miyuki's answer that saying it to the pitcher would only make him more stubbornly determined to pitch even if he couldn't, were not particularly interesting to Ochiai. But what did make him prick up his ears was hearing Sawamura pipe up in an intense and insistent way, telling Miyuki that some things had to be said to be understood.

Ochiai stood aside as they came out of the building, and watched as Sawamura, walking beside Miyuki, turned expectantly to the captain and asked playfully: "And don't you have something to say to me too?"

Miyuki, in return, gave Sawamura a teasing smile and an astonishingly flirtatious, sing-song answer of "U-za-i…". Yes, the captain was saying "N-o-i-s-y" to the pitcher, and all that was missing was a blown kiss at the end of the word – but it might as well have been there, considering the body language and tone.

So. Their relationship had progressed to such a point. Interesting. And Kuramochi was watching Miyuki like a hawk as they walked away from the indoor facility. Interesting too. Ochiai had figured out a while back that the shortstop had had a thing for Sawamura, and a bit of a history with Miyuki as well – nothing major, but enough to make this a curious triangle. (At some point, when he'd also heard whispers that Kuramochi was the sort of boy who batted for both teams since he appeared to have the hots for pretty girls as well, he'd made a last-ditch attempt to straighten him out by dropping a big hint that switch-hitting was not necessarily a good thing and he should just pick one side and always bat left; the hint apparently hadn't gone down well with the rebellious kid.)

But during the final game that afternoon, Ochiai realised the reason for Kuramochi's intent gaze on Miyuki that morning, when it was quietly revealed within the Seidou team that Miyuki had been injured in yesterday's match with Seiko. It seemed Kuramochi had found out late last night, and had kept the secret for his captain.

Takashima was furious with Miyuki for hiding his injury. Ochiai wasn't sure exactly what she had said to Miyuki in the locker room after the physio examined him, nor was he entirely sure what the catcher had said in reply to her, but she was still angry when she returned to the stands. And it was Ochiai's turn to hear her out as she expressed her frustration with Miyuki's obstinacy and deception. Then, just as she had done him the favour last night of hearing him out without mocking him and giving him the best possible response of saying nothing at all, he now gave her the best possible response at this time by pointing out to her the reassuring fact that the team's morale actually appeared to be rising even though the players now knew that Miyuki was injured.

Kawakami had been unfortunate enough to have that pitch by Todoroki Raichi numb his pitching hand when he was at bat, but Sawamura was rising to the occasion by performing very well, keeping both Yakushi as well as his own Yakushi-shaped demons at bay.

Ochiai honestly felt that if he was in charge, he wouldn't switch the southpaw out for the last inning. But Kataoka, as usual, saw things differently. By now, he could more or less work out what the head coach was thinking by putting Furuya on. He guessed that Kataoka wanted first to strike dismay into Yakushi's hearts by letting them assume he was sending the ace to the mound now that they were down, to crush them completely. Second, he knew Kataoka wanted to give Furuya a chance to participate in this game – every player wanted to play in a final, and it was only fair for the ace to have that opportunity. Third, he must be doing it for Sawamura's sake too, because the kid had reached the place he was standing in now in his own way, one stumbling step at a time, learning everything from scratch, interspersing that laborious progress with leaps of instinct that propelled him forward in great bounds, and Kataoka didn't want him to get ahead of himself or assume too great a burden yet.

And Seidou did it. They won. Furuya closed the game with no mercy for either Yakushi or Miyuki, and it was done. Ochiai said what he needed to say to the principal, and watched as the retired third-years feted Kataoka for the victory. Kataoka actually bowed to them – good grief – shedding tears as he did so, apologising for not having been able to earn that ticket to Koushien while the third-years were still on the team. What an un-coach-like thing to do, Ochiai thought, as the former team members tossed Kataoka up in the air in celebration. Ah well, but being what he thought of as un-coach-like had got the team here, so what did Ochiai know?

He also watched from afar as Takashima rushed Miyuki to the nearest clinic – they would leave the more detailed tests and scans for tomorrow – with Maezono and Kuramochi practically holding Miyuki upright. Sawamura wasn't with them; he was instead cheerfully chatting to Furuya and Kominato, then joining the third-years as they celebrated their schoool's triumph. How odd. Considering how close he had seen Miyuki and Sawamura to be, why wasn't the pitcher in that taxi with…

Of course. The idiot child simply didn't realise Miyuki's injury was potentially serious. Ochiai wouldn't put it past the moron to think the captain was just suffering a minor pull that was only hampering his performance for today, with the clinic visit being a mere precaution. And he wouldn't put it past Miyuki to have hidden the worst of his pain from Sawamura so as not to worry the boy. He could show it to his vice-captains and Takashima now that the game was over, but not Sawamura.

Which meant that Sawamura was going to be less than pleased – and in the loudest possible manner too – when he found out later.

Unseemly behaviour on the team was no longer Ochiai's business now that he had talked himself out of this job by praising Kataoka to the skies, but since he'd found himself smiling at Sawamura's antics last night, he decided that whether it was his business or not, he wanted to know. Because it was in his nature to be a busybody. And because Sawamura had made him smile. And just because.

The team got back to the school first. The entire body of players and managers went wild celebrating in the canteen as well as upstairs, outside Kataoka's office, where the coach had locked himself in. Kataoka had probably retreated there out of embarrassment for having shed tears earlier, but possibly, Ochiai thought, also to avoid being tossed up into the air any more (a rather nauseating experience, surely?).

Celebrations were going on throughout the dorm, and with the food laid out in the canteen and the loud whoops of laugher and splashing about in the baths, Ochiai guessed that the dormitory compound would be the focal point of the festivities for the rest of the evening, right through dinner and afterwards. The indoor facility, then, might be where Miyuki and Sawamura would best be able to talk with least interruption, since no one was likely to be training tonight? Or the back of the dorm?

So Ochiai strode through the gate in the chain-link fence behind the dorm and asked the team-bus driver: "Please will you lend me your step ladder before you leave for the day?"

"More scheming, Ochiai-san?" the driver asked with some concern, as he stood on that very ladder to wipe the windshield.

"Ah, yes, but it's not anything you would think of as evil plans for world domination," Ochiai sighed, scratching his head and looking at the man with as much honesty as he could muster.

"Hmm. All right. But please return it to me in good condition when I'm back here on Tuesday, or you'll have to buy me a new one to replace it."

"I'll guard it with my life," Ochiai assured him dryly.

"I'll leave it wrapped in a tarpaulin sheet under the bus when I'm done cleaning. You can pick it up when you need it."

"Thank you."

Ochiai then went to the indoor facility which, as he'd predicted, was still empty, and stood on a piece of gym equipment to undo the latch of the window at the far end. He'd need that window later if he was right about where Miyuki and Sawamura were likely to thrash it out, as there were no stacks of crates for him to hide behind today – all the crates of balls apart from one had been locked away as there would almost certainly be no training done this evening.

And if the two kids met at the back of the dorm instead, he'd also be in a position to nip closer to where they were.

He wasn't sure when Miyuki, Takashima and the vice-captains would be back, but he hung around the outside corner of the canteen, strolling in occasionally to pick up a bite of cake or refill his cup with hot tea. At the right moment, when the sky was getting darker, and he judged that no one was near the back of the dorm, he went out through the gate in the chain-link fence and retrieved the step ladder from under the bus to place it behind the indoor facility, under the window he had unlatched earlier. Then he returned to hover near the canteen, eat some more and talk briefly to whoever was willing to say a passing word to him.

The first sign he saw of their return was Kuramochi making his way to his dorm room, still wearing his official game kit. Sawamura had spotted him too, and sprinted over, obviously wanting to know where Miyuki was. A jerk of Kuramochi's chin in an upward direction told Ochiai that the vice-captain was informing Sawamura that Takashima had taken Miyuki upstairs to see Kataoka. Sawamura was still cheerfully laughing and grinning as he fired another question at Kuramochi, but his face suddenly changed as the shortstop replied. By the end of Kuramochi's answer, there wasn't a trace of a smile left on the first-year's face.

Sawamura walked into their room, and Kuramochi went in after him. They stayed in there for some time before Miyuki came downstairs and – after being held up by a string of players all asking how he was feeling – finally made it to the outside of Room 5. He was about to knock on their door when Kuramochi opened it, holding a change of clothes and a towel under his arm, clearly on his way to the bath house. Kuramochi's body language indicated he was telling Miyuki that he should go in and talk to Sawamura, and Ochiai thought he had miscalculated – perhaps he would now have to sneak into Toujou Hideaki's room next door to theirs to listen in by pressing his drinking glass to the thin divider wall.

But moments after Miyuki entered the room, Sawamura burst out of it, looking thunderous, refusing to speak as he marched towards the indoor training facility, Miyuki on his heels. Many players saw them, and a few made to follow, but Kuramochi seemed to be telling them that they should leave them alone. Ochiai discreetly went round the far end of the dorm, slipped over to the back near the chain-link fence, and from there, made his way behind the indoor facility. One of the security guards was looking at him curiously, but he muttered "coach's business", and ignored the man's stares.

By now, an early autumn darkness had settled in, and with either Sawamura or Miyuki having switched on the lights in the indoor facility, Ochiai felt certain they wouldn't see him outside the window. He'd opened the window a crack earlier only to be able to hear them; he intended to watch them through the glass, and the reflectiveness of that glass once the lights were on inside meant there was every chance they wouldn't see his face through the pane.

"…aren't we supposed to talk after the tournament?" Miyuki was asking as Ochiai reached the top of the ladder.

"I'm not interested any more," Sawamura said. He sounded furious. He was keeping his voice down for once, which made it all the more obvious how angry he was.

They were both still wearing their playing kit – Miyuki, of course, had just returned from the clinic, and Sawamura hadn't bathed and changed either, because he had first been too busy hounding Kataoka along with the third-years, running all over the dorm chattering away to everyone in high spirits, then tucking into tea in the canteen. They were both messy and dirt-stained from the final match, which only added to the intensity of the mood as they stood about two feet apart, facing each other.

"Sawamura…" Miyuki was saying. "Now's the right time to talk. This visit to the clinic was only an initial check to make sure nothing was broken or torn – I still have to see Dr Higuchi tomorrow morning for more scans and a more detailed assessment – I won't be attending classes, and by the time I'm back, Kantoku will be announcing the outcome, and everyone will be asking me a million questions, and…"

"I told you. I'm not interested any more."

"Er… not interested in our talk, or in…?" Miyuki looked and sounded slightly worried.

"Why? Why didn't you tell me how bad it was?" Sawamura demanded abruptly.

"Wait… you're angry about my injury? You and everyone else knew at the stadium, didn't you? All you did there was grumble at me. Why are you so angry now?"

"I didn't know how bad it was!" Sawamura's voice started to rise in volume. "Three weeks? I don't even know how bad something like that must be – I've never been injured enough to need so much as three days' rest!"

"Three weeks is only the initial assessment by the clinic – Dr Higuchi may say differently tomorrow – probably a lot less than that –"

But Sawamura was ignoring Miyuki's words as he ploughed on: "…If I'd known, I'd have gone to the clinic with you! At first when Kantoku spoke harshly to you I thought it was just a slump in your form. And then when I found out that it was an actual injury from yesterday's match, but you stayed on the field and kept playing, I thought it was just a minor thing, that you were only hampered by a… I don't know… a nasty stitch in your side or something…"

"You thought I just had a stitch in my side?" Miyuki sounded amazed. "Did you really think I'd have batted that ineffectively through most of the match because of a stitch?"

"Because you hid it so bloody well!" Sawamura was yelling now, his arms waving wildly, although he made no move to step closer to Miyuki. "You didn't tell me anything about being hurt from the collision the day before. You didn't say anything to me. You just pretended! And you caught for me at night and this morning when I woke you up early even though you should have been resting. Y – you sat there on the bench last night coolly drinking tea with me – you idiot! You were hiding something so big from me and… and it makes me really upset to know that I didn't notice!"

"Baka," Miyuki said softly. "I made very sure you didn't notice."

"Bastard. You even made sure I was out there on the field waiting for my turn at bat when you were examined by the physio, didn't you? And you didn't say anything to me after everyone else in the locker room found out how serious it could be because you didn't want me to worry, right?"

"Well, you being away from the locker room at that point was a coincidence – but it's true that I didn't want you to fuss over me – you'd have held back in your pitching if you'd known."

"You let Furuya and Kawakami-senpai know!" Sawamura yelled louder, turning red in the face.

"Kawakami was done pitching for the day, and Furuya is the kind of guy who'd be single-minded enough not to hold back an ounce of his strength even if he thought I was one breath away from dying – and indeed, he didn't hold back at all. But you would have."

"You're a really horrible person!"

"I keep getting told that."

"Because it's true!"

"I didn't want you to fret over my condition. I was still fine. I wouldn't have played at all if I hadn't believed I'd be the best person to lead you guys out on the field. I really didn't want you in particular to be upset…"

"I just want to grab you by your jersey right now and shake you up harder than I ever have, but – but I can't even do that because you've gone and got yourself injured!" Sawamura hollered, turning away from Miyuki in frustration, tearing his fingers through his already-messy hair.

"To be precise, it was Ogawa who went and got me injured," Miyuki said with a smile, all calmness in contrast to Sawamura's agitation.

"Shut up!" Sawamura yelled, spinning back around to face Miyuki. "And stop smiling! I could punch you! I would too if you weren't already hurt!"

"Oh, don't hold back just because I have a wee little pull in my abdominals," Miyuki teased.

"'Wee little pull' my ass! You'll be out for three whole weeks! That's a serious injury!"

"Come on, Sawamura, I'm not that fragile – getting shaken up a bit by you won't do any harm," Miyuki laughed. "And I'm sure I'll be fine in less than two weeks – these doctors are always excessively cautious…"

"Bullshit! You need to rest and not do anything stupid!"

"But I miss being grabbed by you," Miyuki purred, sounding almost as if he was pouting, except that he wasn't, for he was keeping that annoyingly smug smile on his face. "You don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass."

"Th – that's exactly how I'm going to treat you for the next three weeks! Like glass!"

"Awww… Furuya is so much more uncompromising and fun than you…" Miyuki complained, stepping towards Sawamura.

"Fun?! Furuya?" Sawamura exploded, stepping back.

"He didn't hold back on the strength of his pitches today, and he wouldn't hold back either if it came to having to shake me till my teeth rattled in my head – if he were into that kind of thing, that is, which he isn't. I think."

"Hey, I'm not 'into' that kind of thing either, you weirdo – does this have something to do with what Kuramochi-senpai was saying about your mas… er… maso… um… whatever… tendencies?"

"He and Rei-chan are so full of exaggeration. You're nice to get that close to, that's all. And if I can do it most effectively by making you mad enough to grab me, why wouldn't I?" Miyuki took another step towards the pitcher.

Sawamura, stepping backwards, started warning him off: "Hey, hey, why are you coming closer? Stay back. Don't you dare try to make me give you a good shake, you hear? You're not in any fit state to be rattled like that…"

"So you won't grab me and give me a good shake?"

"Of course not, you idiot! Stay back!"

"And you won't retaliate no matter what I do?" Miyuki moved in closer, cornering Sawamura near the nets.

"You're fucking injured! Of course I won't retaliate no matter how much you provoke me! You're not going to make me grab you today!"

"Then can I grab you?"

"WHAT? Hey, what do you think you're doing? Miyuki Kazuya!" Sawamura hissed, finding his back pressed against the net and Miyuki's hands on his shoulders.

"Keep still, you moron."

"Hey… Miyuki… are you crazy…?"

By this time, Sawamura had nowhere to go unless he chose to send the entire frame of the net crashing to the ground behind him, and Miyuki's hands had slid up from his shoulders to his neck, and his face.

"Well, you don't want to have that talk I've been waiting to have with you for weeks now, even though we promised we'd talk after the final, right?" Miyuki said, grinning like the cat that had finally got the cream.

Sawamura mostly had his back to Ochiai at this moment, and he couldn't see much of the pitcher's face, but he could observe the deep flush creeping onto the boy's left cheek, which Miyuki was gently stroking with his fingertips. "I… I'm too mad at you to talk," he muttered, but there was little conviction in his voice any more, not with his catcher right up against him, cupping his face.

"So if you won't let us have that talk, then I'm just going to have to show you, aren't I?" Miyuki's cheeky smile turned gentler.

"W – wh – what do you think you're doing?" Sawamura stammered, planting his hands against Miyuki's chest.

"Oi, stop pushing back – you're not supposed to retaliate no matter what I do, remember?" Miyuki reminded him.

"Hey, wait a minute…"

"Don't push me away, Sawamura – you wouldn't hurt an injured man, would you?" Miyuki said persuasively, lowering his voice.

"Miyuki Kazuya, you're a horrible person…" Sawamura murmured, his hands still on Miyuki's chest, but only resting there now.

"I know," Miyuki said softly, and kissed the other boy on the lips.

Sawamura went still for several seconds before kissing Miyuki back – it looked to Ochiai like an awkward, clumsy kiss between the two inexperienced teenagers they probably were, but it was earnest, and Sawamura's hands were slowly dropping to Miyuki's waist, which was when he suddenly pulled both his hands and face back.

"D-does it hurt? You've got bandages on, don't you?" Sawamura asked worriedly. "Did I hurt you?"

"Told you I'm not that fragile, baka. These bandages are just giving a bit of support to the muscles for now. You can touch me anywhere you like," Miyuki whispered back, keeping his face close to Sawamura's.

"Are you sure? We can just talk."

"Now you want to talk?" Miyuki asked in amusement.

"You're injured, you idiot. You shouldn't be doing stuff…"

"Oh, there's lots I can do even in this state," Miyuki smiled meaningfully.

"Who said I wanted to do lots with you?" Sawamura grumbled, but his hands were on Miyuki's waist again.

And Miyuki was leaning in again, saying: "Don't shove me away now, Sawamura – don't wound me…"

"You change your tune to suit your purposes, don't you, you horrible captain?" Sawamura asked with a smile, judging by what Ochiai could make out from the uplifted left corner of his mouth.

"Of course I do – and it's worth being called nasty and horrible if it gets me what I want – which is you right now," Miyuki stated, closing the gap between them and pressing his lips to Sawamura's again, slipping one hand round to the back of the other boy's neck to pull him closer.

Ochiai had seen enough. His curiosity was satisfied. If the kissing – and more – went on later in the privacy of one of their bedrooms, it would be beyond his means to know that, and it would surely be far more unseemly of him to try to spy on that than for the boys to engage in it at all, school rules or not.

He climbed down, closed the step ladder and wrapped it up in the tarpaulin sheet, ignoring how ridiculous he must look in the security guard's eyes. He carried it out to where his car was parked, not that far from the team bus, and locked the ladder in the boot so he could bring it back safely on Tuesday to return it to the bus driver.

It was almost dinner time, and he was strolling back in through the gate in the chain-link fence when he saw a small group of players walking from the dorm towards the indoor area.

Sawamura Eijun was a contagion, all right, but Ochiai was starting to think that he might not be too dangerous a kind of disease to catch. So in defiance of his previous contempt for the boy, and in defiance of his former loathing of all that was improper in the odd behaviour among the players (it was a winning team, wasn't it?), Ochiai found himself doing yet another peculiar thing for the second evening in a row – he walked up to the group of boys bound for the indoor facility, stopped them from proceeding, and shooed them back towards the canteen, saying: "The indoor training area and the training fields are off limits tonight – just enjoy your dinner and have fun – my orders."

His friend the bus driver would be so proud of him.