There's something that I need to get off of my chest. I don't really know what it is, but I can feel guilt eating away at me like acid. Gnawing and gnawing until it reaches my core, the guilt won't stop no matter what I do. Did I do something I shouldn't have? I can't recall, and it's starting to stress me. My temper is getting shorter, and those little moments when I'm about to lose my temper are only adding to the weight on my shoulders. I'm practically pulling out my hair in an effort to figure out what it is that I've done wrong. Have I bitten off more than I can chew?
I don't have time to be thinking about this. I have basketball again this afternoon, but now, for the morning, I have softball. I can't afford to be distracted. The day is already threatening to be hot, especially with catcher's gear on, and it's only eight or so. We can fit in two games, I think, before I need to go and then come back for our third game.
The clay beneath my cleats is familiar and warm. The dust that rises is earthier than what I'm used to, but pleasant in some strange way. I sigh and continue warming up our pitcher. She's a tall girl, taller than me, and slightly bigger, too, with long black hair and warm eyes. On the field, though, her eyes turn calculating. She's smart enough to not shake off my signs, and I know that if she does, it'll probably be because she knows the batter better than I do, despite the hours I devoted to watching previous games all week. In the end, we'll get along fine. She doesn't have any confidence issues I can name, but she won't use her rise ball in a game. It's got good height and she has excellent control, but I guess she isn't comfortable with it yet. I'm working on it.
I won't fail to call the right pitches, but there's one thing that's been bugging me since the beginning of the game. The utter silence of the other team is unnerving and unnatural. I get that it's disheartening to be hitless and have nothing but errors, but they aren't all that far behind. Okay, maybe I've exaggerated the difference in the score, but they still have hope. There's a lot of game left, plenty for them to take back what they've lost. Why are they so silent?
I call the next pitch, a drop, when both the pitcher and I realize the ball's going straight for the dirt. Runner on three and no outs? This is bad. I can't allow the run in as the ball gets into my glove. Something's wrong. Have we hit this batter? This runner? Cleats aim straight for my chest as I crouch down and do what I do best. After all, I know how to take a beating better than anyone I know.
I hate metal cleats. Always have. The spikes drag down the front of my chest protector and allow another inch of metal to claw at my chest. I take it in silence, ball firmly in my glove as I keep the runner several inches away from the plate. It isn't a close call at all. She's out, I'm aching, my pitcher is calm. Have they seen me play in games before Touou? It's nothing I'm not used to, but I can't dodge the concerned gazes directed my way. Bruises are a natural part of how I play.
By the time the game is over, I have so many new bruises, scraps, and cuts that I'm practically an entire injury. Coach Wantanabe has me take the time to clean them out, even if putting band-aids on them will only hinder me, and has the bleeding stop. We win, as predicted. Nobody has any complaints, so I must be doing my job pretty well.
The second game in this tournament of three is going to be more difficult than the first. The pitcher is tired, my outfielders are looking a bit slow, and the aching of my chest hasn't died down quite yet. We need to get fired up, we need to win, and I have to get anything that comes my way. It's okay the way things are, but only for these first few moments. It can't continue on past that, no matter how difficult it is to regain all the energy we've lost. I can feel a headache forming at the thought of another game and another Interhigh match. It'll be fine as long as I can continue on this way. I always have, and there's no reason to doubt my abilities now of all times. I'm carrying the weight of the wins we're wishing for.
The heat is starting to get to me, I think. The umpire has been nice enough to allow the catchers time between outs to cool by getting sprayed with water. It's a little disgusting to be so muddy at this point, but hey, I'm not going to complain. The heat is sweltering, and I need all the cool I can get.
The water is cool and calm as one of the girls on the bench dumps a bucket over my head, dousing the inside of my mask and most of my uniform, which is an unfortunate black. The red socks are a nice touch, along with the red stripe down the side of the pants and jersey. It's a nice looking uniform, but it's going to give me heatstroke.
I shove my hair out of the way as I glance back at the field. I need another out. That's all I need for this inning, and we can get into the dugout, where my pitcher and cool off a little bit and my fielders won't pass out from all the heat the sun's hammering them with. I need to save them for our third game, so they can have some downtime to rest and regain anything they've lost during the day so far. Meanwhile, I think I'm going to be roasted. I'll have to sleep until the basketball game starts. Luckily, and I suppose it's luckily, Satsuki's parents are giving me a ride. I definitely need one.
The mask comes back on, and the game resumes as quickly as it was paused. One more out. Unfortunately, I know that our pitcher is too worn to get us this out. I sign for a ball in the dirt, watching as this batter goes for it, and watch as she takes off for the drop-third. The ball rockets from my hands toward the first baseman, who is luckily still alive, and makes it safely into her glove. I can't help but feel satisfied with the turn of events. Coach Wantanabe ushers us off the field to get a drink and start batting.
My at-bats today are nothing to complain about. A few singles, a double, and a triple. I'm more than happy with them, although we could use something a little more substantial. From the looks of things, we need it bad since our pitcher will be switched out. I have no choice but to go for something that will fire us all up. At least, that's my plan up until I see something I can't avoid.
I have to give them credit. That pitcher has impressive control. However, if they wanted to walk me, surely they could've found a way other than to toss a ball straight into my elbow? Especially a fastball? White-hot pain races up my arm. I'm trying my best to keep the tears forming in my eyes from spilling as I hand my bat over to the next girl up.
This is not good, no this is really bad. I can feel my fingers tingling and my shoulder trying to throb. It'll look bad for the pitcher and catcher on the opposing team to have pegged me, but right now that isn't the issue. My arm is killing me as I jog to first. "Time!" The umpire calls as I step on the bag, ready to run again. I won't get the chance it seems. I get a courtesy runner and an icepack strapped securely to my elbow until it's time for me to catch again.
"Are you absolutely sure you can catch?" Coach asks as I rifle through my bag. I nod my head and look for a compression sleeve, which seems to have up and left me.
"Positive. I can do it." I say firmly, glancing up at him. "I can play right handed if it gets bad. It feels better now."
He looks at me dubiously, but he doesn't question me. If I pride myself on anything, and I probably pride myself on many things, it's my ability to endure. I can endure this. It isn't so bad. Besides, I still have two games to attend, to participate in if needed. I'm not going to let one pitch ruin my plays for the rest of the day.
Most of the rest of the game goes by with remarkable speed, with the most memorable moments being our second baseman's homerun and an astounding catch by our centerfielder. We win, and it's time for me to go. "Is there room for my bag in your car?" I ask Satsuki's father as I grab my clothes. "If there isn't, I can probably leave it with the team." Mr. Momoi nods his head empathetically.
"We have room for it. Are you changing here?" I shake my head and quickly part with my team, promising to return for the third game and reminding our pitchers to get their arms iced if they're hurting. The car ride is mostly silent. Satsuki must be helping strategize at the courts already, and we'll be picking up Daiki somewhere, so I'm sitting in the backseat, dozing off against the window.
The only thing that disturbs my sleep is the opening of the door opposite mine and the depression of the seat as someone, most likely Daiki, comes to sit in the backseat. I guess this is Satsuki's way of assuring herself that Daiki wll actually come to the game rather than go off to an arcade and presumably drag me off with him. I think she should have more faith in him, but that's her thing.
We get to the Interhigh courts all too fast, and although the heat is nothing short of torturous outside, it's cool and brisk inside, just nice enough to shake sleep from my shoulders and allow me to leave it outside. It doesn't make much difference to my elbow. It's long gone numb from continual application of the dripping cold pack, but I've regained movement in my lower arm. It sees that I'll get away with just a bruise and there's no break to be had. Relief fills my chest.
My softball uniform looks out of place here among the spectators and players. It almost serves as a reminder that I no longer fit in with whom I thought were my peers. I can never hope to pursue basketball outside of high school. I just don't have the height necessary to properly play among others, although I'm sure there have been players shorter than I. It's no use either way. Nobody picks up players my size anymore. At this point, I'm more likely to burn out than to be able to pursue anything.
"Hai-chan! What happened to you?" Satsuki practically shrieks as I enter the locker room. "I thought you promised no more injuries!" I blink my eyes owlishly.
"I couldn't help it. The pitcher hit me. It doesn't hurt anymore, so don't worry about it. The ice pack was just a precaution." I reply, shedding my softball uniform. "I have to leave right after the game to get back to the other one. Don't-" The pinkette practically has a heart attack when she sees all my new bruises. "Don't worry about it! They don't hurt! I can play!"
I'm just about to start donning my basketball jersey when Sakurai and Imayoshi poke their heads in. At first, I have no idea how to react. Do I scream? Do I yell? Do I ignore them? I can't actually decide, so Satsuki does the action for me. She shrieks and pushes the boys out, yelling at me to get dressed and be careful before following my teammates. I feel tightness in my chest.
I'll admit that the bruises look bad with black and blue blooming all across my skin. I'll admit that they're tender and that parts of me are threatening to swell, but I'll deny any part of me that says they hurt. Yes, they ache and they're sore, but they aren't pain-pain. I have nothing to fear. I can go all out, and then the last game of the day will go smoothly. I can do this. I can endure.
It takes me longer than usual to get my uniform on, but I'm out in a little over five minutes, and I'm warming up with the others. They seem a little gentler today, careful not to bump into me. Nobody makes any unnecessary contact with me. It's an enormous change from my previous two games, but I'm not exactly complaining. I'm about ready to pass out regardless of how much I slept, and my body is sore in places I've forgotten existed. My movements are smooth, but tired, and I hope that Satsuki has some sort of way to keep me charged, because otherwise I'll just be useless.
Weariness is eating away at my bones, making me feel liquid. It's fine. As long as I don't use the Zone in this game, I'll still have some left for what's after this. I know I'm supposed to be giving this my all, but frankly, that isn't possible. More than one game means that my energies are all divided for each game. I spent too much in the last game, and sleeping hasn't helped much. An energy drink will make me crash later, and sugar is never an answer. The main concern on my mind, however, is how incredibly sore I'm going to be tomorrow.
The game starts, thankfully, without a hitch. Satsuki is giving me the first half to sleep and get myself pieced back together properly, and I'm grateful toward her for that. The problem is that I can't sleep near the court, or I'll want to play. Plus, it just looks bad in general, so I'm banished to the locker room, where the benches are slightly colder and much more uncomfortable. Cologne taints the air in an effort to mask the sweat of previous teams. It doesn't work.
I'll admit that I slept like a log. Like a baby. Like the dead. Once I go into energy saving mode, you'd practically have to scream into my ear to get me to stir. I need all the energy I can get, and I doubt that Satsuki will blame me for getting at least twenty minutes of sleep. Naptime is much appreciated by the time one gets to high school.
I'm extremely slow to wake once Satsuki comes in to harass me. I don't really mind, but my thoughts are foggy and my movements are equally slow. It'll wear off in a bit, but I can feel stiffness clambering up my neck and crawling down my spine. I'll need to warm myself up a bit with what's left of the break period. It doesn't take long, as usual, but it's still necessary to make sure I don't injure myself. My newly acquired bruises don't need any more companions.
I don't know this team. The one we're facing, I mean. I don't really recognize any of the colors, and I don't particularly care for them, either. It's not like I have anything against them, the colors green and white, but some colors are best left away from sportswear. Baby barf green is one of them.
"Are you ready?" Satsuki's voice rises in its chime-like manner as she tilts her head, fingers threaded together. I give a nod, stretching out my limbs once more before I get subbed in for the normally benched player.
"As ready as I'll ever get." I reply fluidly. My fingers feel fine as I wiggle them around, and my elbow's collision with the softball feels like it happened in another life. I have no complaints. I just hope that nothing cramps on-court, so I can play as I usually do. It won't be difficult.
I'm lucky in that I don't cramp, or get any sorer than before I played, but half a game still feels like an incredibly long amount of time. I can't wait for my last game to be over so that I can go home and sleep. I'm not surprised that Daiki wasn't attending this game, as he usually chooses not to do, but I'm a little irritated as his usual absentness. I like being on the same team as him, but his behavior isn't something I'm responsible for correcting.
I do my best to grow our lead in the third quarter so that I have a hope of napping for the fourth, and thankfully, my wish comes true. I sleep long enough to grow stiff and know I'll have to warm up once more for the softball game to follow.
What is unsurprising is the result of our last, my final game for today. Yes, I've gotten another dozen bruises. Yes, I'm sore in places that I now know exist. But what's most surprising is that I found a familiar pair of eyes assessing me once more, and although it wasn't unpleasant, it certainly wasn't entirely welcome. They did leave before the end of the game, around the sixth inning, but by then our fate was sealed. What did surprise me, and it surprised me in the best way possible, was the attendance of a certain blue-haired boy who'd never bothered to come before.