Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Are you going to let me in?”

Kuramochi looked the same. Perhaps a little tired. A little sad. He was staring at Miyuki Kazuya with a raised eyebrow, waiting at the open door of the small apartment the catcher had called home for the past year.

“Yeah, sorry. Wasn’t expecting you.” Kazuya replied, stepping back and allowing his old teammate (and arguably best friend) to move into the apartment.

“Want anything to drink?” he asked tiredly, making his way towards the small kitchen while Kuramochi took off his shoes at the genkan. There were no guest slippers. Kazuya knew he probably had a pair tucked away somewhere, but he couldn’t be bothered to look for them. Kuramochi wouldn’t mind.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Kuramochi replied, following Kazuya down the narrow hallway.

“Just finished all the beer unfortunately” Kazuya snarked back “you’ll have to make do with coffee.”

Kuramochi scoffed.

“Bit late for coffee, isn’t it?”

It was. Nearly 11 pm. Kazuya pointedly switched on the coffeemaker, ignoring the shortstop’s scowl in his direction.

“You planning on sleeping at all tonight?” his friend pressed. “No offense Miyuki, but you look like shit.”

“You don’t exactly look fresh as a daisy either ‘Mochi-kun” Kazuya returned, sickly sweet. Kuramochi just scoffed again.

There was silence while Kazuya finished brewing two cups of coffee. His small coffeemaker only really brewed one a time.

“How are things with the Tigers?” Kazuya finally broke the silence.

“Good.” Kuramochi replied. “We’re doing pretty well. I’ll probably be starting towards the end of the season.”

“Good.”

More silence.

“Let’s go out on the balcony.” Kazuya proposed. The silence was stifling.  It was already pretty warm, the first bloom of summer, but hopefully at the balcony the fresh air would make the pauses between the two of them less cloying.

The catcher didn’t wait for Kuramochi’s response, leading towards the sliding doors that led to his small fifth floor balcony. The night-lights of Tokyo sprawled out before them, and despite the heat a light breeze was blowing. If they’d been in the country, the sky would have been filled with stars.

Kazuya leaned on the half wall of the balcony, looking down at the streets below. Kuramochi did the same, mug cupped between his hands as they both stood in silence.

“Saw your media thing with the Swallows.” Kuramochi said finally. Kazuya stiffened.

“Ah.”

“How bad is it?” the shortstop asked. Kazuya took a slow sip of his coffee as he considered how to answer.

“Not as bad as it could have been” he responded, finally. “I probably won’t be starting the next two games, but since they pushed me into it even after I said I didn’t want to participate my management is going easy on me.”

“They pushed you into it?”

Kazuya brushed his hair back.

“Yeah.” He sighed finally. He bit his lip as he considered how much to share. But if there was anyone he could expect to understand it would be Kuramochi.

“I wasn’t originally slated for the media event. Abe was the catcher who was supposed to take part in the interviews. But he had a family emergency and left before the event started. I was only pulled in because I was already at the stadium.”

“I told them.” The catcher continued, clutching at his coffee with whitened knuckles “I told them it wasn’t a good day for me, that I was in no condition to go through a stupid media circle, that they should put someone else on. But…”

“They told you to do it anyways, huh.” Kuramochi completed. Kazuya nodded, head hanging low.

“So.” Kuramochi continued. “You blew up at a reporter and walked out, huh.”

“’Blew up’ is a bit…” Kazuya stopped when he noticed Kuramochi’s disbelieving look in his direction. He sighed. He was too tired for this.

“She always asks the same damn question”. He said finally, not looking at his friend. “I should have been prepared for it. I usually am prepared for it. It was just… It was a bad day for it.”

“Well, that’s a fucking understatement” Kuramochi concurred, with feeling.

‘Who’s your favorite pitcher to work with?’  was the question. Sato-san, sports reporter for the Tokyo Daily always asked catchers the same question. She’d been all the more insistent on asking it to Kazuya, likely because he avoided responding in any concrete way through all their previous interactions.

On any other day Kazuya would have brushed it off. On any other day.

But Kazuya’s favorite pitcher had died on that day, two years before. Kazuya didn’t have the option of working with his favorite pitcher anymore.

He had kind of blown up at Sato-san. He should probably apologize to her.

Kuramochi was still quiet, sipping his coffee. For all the shit he’d given him about not sleeping, Kazuya could tell Kuramochi himself probably wasn’t sleeping very well either.

“Is that why you came?” Kazuya asked, finally. “I’m a bit far from Nishinomiya.”

“Sort of.” Kuramochi responded. He hesitated a little.

“We had a Seido reunion dinner, on Tuesday. I know you couldn’t come because the Swallows were doing that exhibition game thing, but since I was going to be in Tokyo anyways, I decided I might as well check in on your dumb ass.”

Tuesday. Right, Kazuya had received an invite.

“You’ve got lots of people worried about you, you know?” Kuramochi continued, though he wasn’t looking at Kazuya.

“And since you lost it at that reporter yesterday. Well.” He shrugged.

“Narumiya texted me, can you believe it?” He scoffed. “Told me to ask you if you know you’re allowed to move on, the asshat.”

Kazuya smiled, though it was a bitter thing, slashed across his face.

“You’re not asking?” He prodded. “It has been two years, you know?”

“Narumiya can eat shit” Kuramochi nearly snarled. “I get that he’s worried, but you’re allowed to take whatever time you need.” The shortstop looked down, mouth turned into a frown.

“Fuck knows I’m not over it either.” He paused. “I don’t think anyone is, really”.

It was said softly. There was none of Kuramochi’s boisterous violence in the words. He didn’t wait for Kazuya to respond at all.

“Did you know Jun-san and Takako-senpai are having a baby?” He asked.

“What, really?” Kazuya blurted, surprised by the apparent non-sequitur. “They’re not even married yet, are they?”

“Nope!” Kuramochi responded, cackling, a bit more like himself than he’d been all evening. “Jun-san told me to let you know you’ll get an invite and he expects you to be there, or he’ll kick your ass otherwise. So. They’ll probably get married before the baby is born.”

Kazuya huffed a soft laugh.

“I’ll be there, then.”

Kuramochi seemed to hesitate a second. Looking lost into the dredges of his coffee cup.

“Takako-senpai said that, if it is a boy, they’ll name him Eijun.”

Kazuya froze. He could feel his throat tighten with emotion. He looked up, blinking away the burning in his eyes.

“Well” He started, voice wobbling more than he’d hoped. “Given who his dad is, I expect he’ll be about as loud as the original.”

Kuramochi huffed a warbled little bit of laughter. “You’ve got that right.”

“You see what I mean, right?” He continued, finally. “I don’t think any of us really got over it at all.”

“Narumiya didn’t really know Bakamura.” His voice barely broke on the old nickname. Kazuya was impressed. “So he doesn’t get to tell any of us when we’re supposed to be over him.”

Kazuya didn’t respond for a long time, staring out at Tokyo’s night-lights for so long they seemed to blur. Finally, he started speaking.

“You know, when I found out Mei was planning to play for the Swallows, I almost rejected their offer.” Kuramochi made a questioning sound but didn’t interrupt.

“I figured if they were taking Mei, there was very little chance they’d opt for a southpaw pitcher of comparable versatility the next year.” He waited for Kuramochi to process the implications of his words.

“You were going to reject them because there was little chance you’d get to play with Sawamura in the same team if you chose the Swallows.”

Good old ‘Mochi. He did understand Kazuya the best. Never mind that they both knew Sawamura had already been dead by the time Kazuya had to pick a team at the end of their third year.

“Pretty pathetic, isn’t it?” Kazuya asked, the words nearly stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to look at Kuramochi and face the pity and understanding that were probably going to be engraved on his face.

“Not pathetic” Kuramochi responded, cautiously. “It’s just sad.” He turned his back to the balcony’s half wall, dipping his head back and looking at the night sky instead. “Everything about Sawamura makes me sad these days.”

“’These days’?” Kazuya asked, disbelieving.

“Yeah.” Kuramochi responded. “Back then… When Sawamura died, I was sad, yeah. But mostly I was just angry.”

Kazuya stared at him. He remembered Kuramochi had slept in his room for the three days after. Room five had been deserted. Neither Kuramochi nor Asada had managed to sleep there for a while after Sawamura… After Sawamura had died. But he didn’t remember Kuramochi being angrier than usual. He didn’t remember a lot of things between that day and the funeral, really, the days passing in a haze.

“I was angry at everything” Kuramochi continued. “Angry at everyone. Angry at myself for making him go to the convenience store that day. Angry at the weather. Angry at the whole damn team. Angry at the school for pulling out of the Koshien. Angry at fucking Narumiya and the rest of Inashiro for going to Koshien in our place after we withdrew.” He paused. “Angry at Sawamura for dying.”

That statement sat with them for several minutes.

“How did you get over the anger?” Kazuya asked, finally. Kuramochi shrugged.

“It got really bad. We all went home for the winter, before graduation, and I blew up at my sis. I threw a fucking plate at her.” He admitted, misery bleeding through his words. “Then I started sobbing like a little baby. She wasn’t even mad at me. She and my mom were just upset, and worried, I guess.”

“My brother-in-law’s a therapist, did you know?” Kuramochi continued. “He couldn’t handle it himself, apparently there’s like, ethics concerns about treating people you know outside a professional setting. But. He gave my mom a couple of contacts. Recommended people. That sort of thing.” Kuramochi rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, ignoring Kazuya’s gaze.

“It helped?” the catcher asked, turning away from his friend.

“Yeah.” The shortstop agreed. “Talking about things helped. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it. But it got me to where I managed to stop getting angry about it. Crying helped too, I guess.”

Kazuya hummed in acknowledgement.

“If you ever need someone to talk to…” Kuramochi offered tentatively.

“Yeah...” Kazuya breathed out. “Yeah, I’ll ask you. Thanks ‘Mochi.” Kuramochi just grunted in response. He’d stopped actively complaining about the nickname after Sawamura’s death.

“What are you planning on doing, since you won’t be playing for a while?” He asked, clearly trying to change the subject. Kazuya smiled.

“I’m heading to Nagano on the afternoon train tomorrow.” Silence.

“I haven’t gone yet this year.” Kazuya continued, unbothered. “And I should probably apologize to Sawamura’s family. There’s no telling if they’ll get tabloid reporters looking into their dead child for a stupid headline.”

“Jesus.” Kuramochi groaned, fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “His mom say anything to you?”

“Nothing about what happened ” Kazuya admitted. “She sent me a congratulations email after we won the last game I played in.”

Kuramochi nodded.

“Well…” He sighed, finally, standing up fully. “I should be heading out. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t drinking yourself to death.”

“Not during the season, no.” Kazuya joked. It fell flat.

Kuramochi looked at him.

“Miyuki. I mean it. You should get to take whatever time you need.” He stated firmly. “Get your fucking management to understand that too, yeah? I’ve got your back if you need it. We’ll get my brother-in-law to call in and explain and shit. Whatever you need, yeah?”

Kazuya was suddenly, viciously thankful for having Kuramochi in his life.

“Yeah” he croaked out. “Yeah.”

He breathed out shakily. Then turned to his friend.

“Kuramochi. Thanks. Really.”

Kuramochi nodded, a bit embarrassed.

“I’ll see myself out, yeah? Try and get some sleep, man, I wasn’t joking when I said you look like shit.”

Kazuya laughed a bit at that. Kuramochi’s blustering was a clear attempt to lighten the air after bringing up Sawamura’s ghost a mere two days after his death anniversary.

Kazuya appreciated the attempt for what it was. He waved him off and waited until he heard the slam of his front door as Kuramochi indeed saw himself out. Then he drank the last of his coffee and walked back into the apartment.

Chapter Text

“Aah! No way!!!!” Sawamura Eijun wailed, looking at his own hand as though it’d betrayed him.

“Heh. Guess I’m not the worst at rock-paper-scissors anymore” Kazuya declared, smug, waving his own close-fisted hand in a mockery of a victory wave.

“Kyahahaha!!! Guess you’re going to the convenience store Bakamura! Vanilla ice cream for me, or I’ll throttle you” Kuramochi cackled at the pouting second year.

It was a hot day, and spirits were high. They were three days away from heading to Hyōgo for the summer nationals after finally, finally beating Inashiro. They’d been given a break from practice for the afternoon and part of the team had gathered in the shade to escape the oppressive heat, eventually, at Kominato’s suggestion, settling on ice-cream as the best possible option for surviving the rest of the day.

The decision to go for cold, sweet treats naturally caused the group of boys gathered by the dorm’s courtyard to try and figure out who’d be responsible for walking under the scorching sun to the nearest convenience store to make the purchases. At Kuramochi’s prompting, this led to rock-paper-scissors, likely as a way to mess with Kazuya, given his track record with the game.

After a few riveting matches, it’d been a losing tie between Kazuya and their resident southpaw. And now the catcher had finally won the right to laze about while they waited for Sawamura to deliver their cold, icy treats.

“Geh!! This isn’t fair!!! Miyuki Kazuya, you should come with me!!” The pitcher whined, loud as always.

“No way.” Kazuya retorted, smirking at the southpaw. “Kuramochi suggested that whoever lost rock-paper-scissors would go and we all agreed. I beat you fair and square.”

“But!! I can’t carry this much ice-cream by myself!” Sawamura complained, gesturing immediately to the surrounding hyenas laughing at him. Granted, there were quite a few people expecting him to bring back their cold desserts. Kuramochi, Furuya, Kominato, Kanemaru, Toujou, Shirasu, and some of their first years, Asada and Yui amongst them.

“Feel free to use these, Eijun-kun” Kominato said sweetly, handing what were clearly two reusable grocery bags to the pitcher. “Strawberry for me, yes?”

Kuramochi kept cackling at this clearly unsupportive gesture from their second baseman as Sawamura wailed at the betrayal.

“Sawamura-senpai, I can help you if you’d like” Asada interjected, timidly. It was clear the heat was getting to the lanky first year as well.

At the kind offer from his kōhai, Sawamura seemed to gather himself, puffing up in determination.

“No, no, young Asada! That bastard tanuki is right, and I did lose.” He breathed in and then bellowed out “YOSH!! This Sawamura Eijun will take ice cream orders now!!”

“Oooh, good boy Sawamura.” Kazuya cooed at him, laughing inwardly as the pitcher turned back to yell at him “Coffee flavored for me yeah? Don’t keep us waiting too long.”

Sawamura puffed up further in offense as the other players surrounding them laughed at their antics, ignoring Kuramochi’s kick to his thigh as he yelled at Kazuya “You’ll see if I bother trying to find coffee ice-cream for you!! I’ll get you whatever the sweetest flavor I can find is and that’s that!!! Bastard!”

“Yeah, yeah, go already, Bakamura!!!” Kuramochi interjected with another kick towards the southpaw, though he was quick enough to dodge that one. With multiple parting flavor requests Sawamura was off, the two bags Kominato had offered flapping about as he waved at everyone and ran out towards the convenience store a couple of streets down.

It was as carefree as they’d ever been. Summer looked bright ahead and the memory of victory was still a sweet taste on their tongues after the final. It was full speed ahead for the national tournament and Kazuya’s mood was fully buoyed by the belief that they could reach the pinnacle of high-school baseball in a few short weeks, provided they kept playing as well as they had been so far, with Sawamura shouldering the ace number.

It all came crashing down about half an hour later.

“Bakamura’s taking too long!” Kuramochi groused from where he was lounging by Kazuya under the chestnut tree in the courtyard.

“Hmm” Kazuya hummed as he stretched and got up from where he’d been propped up against the tree trunk. “Maybe I should look for him. He gets lost going to the bathroom at stadiums, I really shouldn’t have trusted him to get to the convenience store on his own” He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head in mock concern.

Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly saw someone running towards the staff offices. He turned to have a better look, ignoring Kuramochi’s mockery of him being a ‘concerned wife’.

It was Atsushi-san, an alum who lived close by. He’d often watch their practices. Concern bubbled up his chest as he saw how pale and horrified the man looked as he slammed into the door to the staff rooms.

Something was wrong.

Kataoka was the one to open the door, Rei-chan right behind him. Atsushi-san gestured frantically down the corner he’d come from. The same corner anyone would have to turn down to get to the street.

The street and the convenience store.

Kazuya couldn’t hear what was said, but he didn’t need to. Kataoka went white, and darted out, Rei-chan hot on his heels, following Atsushi-san’s rushed steps.

Something was very wrong.

Without thinking, Kazuya dashed towards where their coaches and Atsushi-san had turned to. He could hear Kuramochi’s surprised yell of his name, and then the shortstop’s frantic footsteps as he followed behind him.

Something was very, very wrong.

Kataoka and Rei-chan had followed Atsushi-san down the street. Towards the crossing that led to the next block over, where the convenience store was located. Kazuya sped up.

There was a small group of people all gathered together at the crosswalk. Kataoka pushed past them and Kazuya followed, barreling past Rei-chan’s shocked “Miyuki-kun!”

Something was wrong.

He could hear the shrieking of an ambulance as it arrived, just off the periphery of his vision. But he was frozen staring at the crumpled figure in the middle of the street, the one Kataoka had so quickly kneeled by.

Sawamura looked wrong. There was no other way to describe it.

His body was twisted, crumpled in an odd, unnatural way not even his remarkable flexibility would have ever allowed. But he was breathing. Chest rising shallowly, even as blood seeped out from under him, eyes open and trained up to the sky as the paramedics swarmed around Kataoka.

Kazuya wasn’t sure he’d moved. He wasn’t sure he’d called out. But Kataoka was suddenly there, pushing him back, speaking frantically to him. He called out to Rei-chan, who herded him and Kuramochi further back, away from where the paramedics were preparing to lift Sawamura into a stretcher. He’d not even noticed the shortstop follow him through the small crowd, but he could feel his friend clutching at his shirt as they were pushed further and further away from the scene.

And then Kazuya nearly tripped. He felt numb. He could barely make out Rei-chan’s whispered reassurances – “We’ll get him to the hospital, he’ll be okay. He’ll be okay”- but he did look down to see what he’d  stepped over.

By his feet, half ripped open, deformed from what was clearly a violent impact with the ground, was a small carton of ice-cream. It was coffee flavored.

Miyuki Kazuya woke up with a start as the train jerked out of Nagasaka Station. He let out a shuddering breath, nausea assaulting him at the memories that plagued his light doze. He turned to check the train’s route, flashing over one of the doors. Only three more stations until Fujimi, where he could take the bus towards the little inn he’d booked.

He looked out the windows, where the sun was starting to dip towards the horizon.

A crinkle of paper led him to look down to his lap.

He’d been tightening his hold on the bundle of sunflower’s he’d purchased at Tokyo station without noticing. Kazuya forced himself to loosen his hold, even as he worked to control his breathing. He tried to distract himself from his memories as the train rattled down towards his destination. It was only another 15 minutes to Fujimi.

The train arrived uneventfully, and Kazuya was able to get into the last bus towards the inn. The inn itself was a 20-minute walk from the shrine at which the Sawamura family grave was located, so give or take a few minutes he’d probably make it to the grave close to 9.

Kazuya was glad he’d made the choice to purchase the sunflowers before getting into the first train – there was no way there’d be anywhere to purchase them once he got to the town proper.

After a slogging 40-minute ride in the little puttering bus he’d got on at the train station, Kazuya finally checked into the little roadside inn he’d managed to book. Outside of ski season, there weren’t many visitors to this sleepy little town on the outskirts of Nagano prefecture, and Kazuya was offered a decent room with a view to Mt. Nishidake, though it was of course obscured now that the sky was turning dark.

Kazuya propped his duffel onto the queen-sized bed, taking hold of his bundle of sunflowers before leaving the inn once again.

It was a warm night, and while the streetlamps were dim the sky was filled with stars.

Kazuya made his way carefully towards the cemetery located at the back of the hill down the little country road the inn was located in. There was no one else around as he carefully picked his way down the rows of austere stone pillars that marked the different family graves.

He’d only been here once before, the year following Sawamura’s death. Still, he was quite sure he could make his way through with his eyes closed, the path chiseled with the heavy weight of grief on his mind.

Someone had washed the grave recently. Most likely Sawamura’s family, on the actual anniversary of his death. White lilies had been placed in the two vases beside the grave, and though they were starting to wilt in the heat their scent was still sweet in the air.

A burnt stick of incense was propped up on the little sand-filled dish before the gravestone. A worn baseball had been left at the grave – a suitable offering for a boy who’d loved baseball with all his heart.

Kazuya could hear the crickets in the surrounding greenery, and the odd call of a frog, likely from the creek that ran down the little hill the shrine and the cemetery were built on, down towards the Kamanachi river. There was no one else around.

Kazuya breathed out unsteadily, dropping on his haunches before the grave. He took out the little packet of incense he’d brought over, opening it carefully with shaking hands. He pulled out two sticks, leaving the rest of the packet on the ground next to where he’d carefully laid the bundle of sunflowers he’d been carrying since leaving Tokyo.

Removing the burnt-out incense stick from the little dish, he stuck the two brand new ones he’d taken out in its place, making sure they stood straight. One incense stick for each year since Sawamura’s death. He breathed in and out shakily against the tightness in his chest as he took out a lighter and lit the tips of the incense, the embers burning bright against the growing darkness of the cemetery. Other than the crickets and the lonely frog occasionally calling out, there was no other sound to be heard.

Once he made sure the two sticks were burning steadily, releasing the sharp scent of sandalwood, he finally picked up the bundle of sunflowers from where he’d laid it on the ground. He’d chosen to bring sunflowers again. He’d done it the year before as well, but Sawamura’s family seemed to always bring white lilies.

Lilies were his mother’s favorite flower. They were the flowers he and his father would lay at his mother’s grave year after year. But he’d felt, last year, when he first came to this place, that Sawamura deserved something that was his. That reminded Kazuya of him only. So. Sunflowers. As bright as the boy they reminded him of, whose ashes were buried beneath the stone.

He carefully knelt closer, gently arranging the flowers over the grave, careful not to disturb the burning incense. As he finally prepared to speak, breath catching in his throat, he was suddenly interrupted.

“Ah, are those sunflowers for our Ei-chan?”

Chapter Text

“Ah, are those sunflowers for our Ei-chan?”

Miyuki Kazuya startled, flailing to the side in surprise as he looked at who’d spoken. He’d not noticed anyone approaching at all.

“Oh! I’m sorry, dear. Did I startle you?” It was a little old lady, dressed in a stunning dark blue kimono. An intricate pattern of crowned cranes and chrysanthemums decorated the fabric. She was not very tall, but stood very straight, looking down at him with a soft smile, eyes upturned into crescents in amusement.

“Ah, yes. A bit” Kazuya responded, embarrassed by his reaction. He really hadn’t noticed her at all. He stayed kneeling. Maybe then she’d go away and let him visit Sawamura in peace. To his dismay, she knelt down next to him instead.

He suddenly felt ashamed. ‘Ei-chan’, she’d said. He couldn’t remember seeing this woman at the funeral, but she clearly knew Sawamura. With the death anniversary just passed, she had likely come to the grave for the same reason as Kazuya himself.

“So, are they? For our Ei-chan?” She prompted. She wasn’t looking at Kazuya, but at the grave itself, a soft smile on her weathered lips. Her voice was quite low, for a woman, a bit rough as though she’d been a smoker for some time, though no scent of cigarettes clung to her person.

“Yes.” She hummed in acknowledgement.

“They suit him very much!” She glanced at Kazuya with a mischievous little grin “Much better suited than white lilies, don’t you agree?”

Kazuya found himself smiling back.

“Lilies are a bit too elegant for him, I agree.” Immediately, he regretted the words. Even if this woman was a part of Sawamura’s extended family, was it really his place to say the flowers his parents and grandfather had chosen were not suitable?

The woman just laughed.

“Oh, you must have known him quite well! Ei-chan was a very clumsy boy.” She was back to smiling softly at the gravestone, reaching out a hand to gently brush against the bright yellow sunflowers.

“Were you a friend of his from school?” She asked.

For whatever reason, Kazuya felt compelled to answer her.

“I was his catcher. We played baseball together.”

“Oh! I remember. He went away for school, to Tokyo. Then, you must be Miyuki Kazuya-kun!” She smiled back at Kazuya, apparently unaware of how the recognition had felt like a punch to his stomach.

“He mentioned you when he came back to visit, in the winter. You must have been a good friend to him.”

Had he been? Kazuya didn’t know. He didn’t think he had been.

“I don’t think I was.” He blurted out. She hummed.

“You were here last year as well.” She said finally, ignoring the way Kazuya turned surprised eyes on her at that statement. “Most people wouldn’t visit the grave of someone they didn’t consider a friend, you know.”

“I didn’t know anyone saw me.” Kazuya admitted. She smiled gently at him.

“Now” she started. “I’ve heard about you from Ei-chan, and I was under the impression that you were quite close. But you just said you don’t think you were a good friend to him.” She tilted her head, as if pondering something.

“You don’t have to tell me anything” She prefaced. “But if you feel like sharing, I’d like to know why you think that.”

Kazuya felt slightly stumped. Share? Why he felt he hadn’t been a good friend to Sawamura? Talk about what he felt when he thought of Sawamura? Just the thought of it made him want to curl up inside his little apartment in Tokyo and disappear for a little while.

But he remembered his talk with Kuramochi the day before. Talking had helped apparently. Granted, Kuramochi probably meant talking to a psychiatrist, or a therapist or something of the sort rather than a mysterious old lady he met in a cemetery, but it couldn’t hurt, could it? Not anymore than he was hurting now anyways.

He looked back at her. She was sitting in perfect seiza, hands elegantly folded over her lap. If anyone could represent the elegance of a white lily, Kazuya thought, nonsensically, it’d probably be someone like this woman.

She didn’t seem to mind his long pause. Closing her eyes and waiting for his response, as though she did not have a care in the world. Finally, he chose to speak.

“I’m not sure you could describe us as ‘friends’ at all” He admitted. He cleared his throat from the unexpected hoarseness. “I think most people would say we were teammates more than anything. He was my pitcher; I was his catcher.” She didn’t interrupt.

“He was my favorite pitcher. I don’t think I ever told him that.” Kazuya stared at the twin plumes of smoke rising from the burning incense. The weight of regret was heavy in his chest at the admission.

“Why would being teammates mean you weren’t friends?” The woman asked. Kazuya started a bit at the question.

“Well. It doesn’t really. I mean. I considered him a friend, I guess. I just. I’m not sure why he’d have considered me one. I wasn’t exactly nice to him, you know?”

For the first time in a long while, Kazuya attempted to recall his time at Seido, after Sawamura had arrived and before the day that had changed everything.

“I mostly made fun of him” He confided, a bit embarrassed. “Sawamura was always so... so alive. One little comment teasing him and he’d explode. It was funny. He was a fun person to be around, and he was always surprising me. Provoking him was interesting because he never really held it against me, but he didn’t really take things lying down either.” She hummed at that.

“Well, if you say he didn’t take things lying down, I’m guessing the teasing wasn’t quite so one-sided, then.”

“Well, he wouldn’t really tease. He would pick me up by the collar and kind of shake me down when I really annoyed him though. I’m older than him, too! He was a bit of a brat.” There was too much fondness in the words. The woman let out a little giggle in response.

“It seems like a bit of a rowdy relationship, but I still don’t see why that means you weren’t a good friend. Plenty of boys your age have rougher relationships with other boys and they still consider each other friends.”

“It wasn’t… I really wasn’t a good friend to him. It wasn’t just the teasing, it was more…. I don’t know how to put it really.” Kazuya let out a frustrated sigh. After a few seconds’ pause, he tried again.

“I’m not good with people. I don’t really know what being a good friend to someone even means. I got him in trouble with our coach his first day of practice, and the one time he really needed my help I was so useless I had to get someone else to help him even though it was supposed to be my job as his catcher.” It felt bitter to say it. He continued.

“I just.. Like I said, I wasn’t very nice to him. I never… I never let him know he mattered. I… I teased him, and made fun of him, and yeah, I tried helping him with baseball, but it wasn’t… It was shallow. I didn’t know how to be honest with him, and by the time I figured out I wanted to be it was already too late.” Kazuya fought against the sting of tears. He really didn’t want to cry in front of this random old lady.

“I think” She said slowly “that there are different ways to show people they matter.”

Kazuya scoffed, disbelievingly. The woman ignored him and continued.

“You say you were not nice to Ei-chan. But when he visited over the winter, he was over the moon because Miyuki Kazuya was helping him with his pitching” Her inflection when saying his name was so like Sawamura’s it made his chest ache. “He was very happy that a senpai he respected was taking the time to work with him, even though you were both on break. That was a kindness Miyuki-kun. It may not seem like much to you, but it made Ei-chan very happy. That’s enough.”

Kazuya suddenly felt angry. So what, working on pitching with Sawamura was supposed to make up for everything he did (or didn’t) say to him?

“I almost hit him once, did you know that?” He spat out at her. For some reason, he felt he needed to make her angry at him. He needed her to understand he wasn’t the kind senpai Sawamura had apparently made him sound like.

“Oh, are you speaking of the issue with Takigawa-kun?” He stared dumbly at her. She smiled at him, then turned back to the grave, watching the incense slowly burn down. “Ei-chan mentioned that was the one time he really made you angry. He was very embarrassed about it, you see. He made assumptions about Takigawa-kun and about you and he really regretted it. I don’t think he ever blamed you for getting angry over someone you admired.”

Kazuya flushed. He didn’t know what to say. It seemed that nothing he said would convince this woman that he hadn’t been whatever she assumed he was to Sawamura. He stayed silent, looking down at the sunflowers he’d laid over the grave.

“What I think” She continued, unmoved by his silence. “Is that you are being too harsh on yourself.” She turned towards him, laying a hand gently on his shoulder. It seemed to weigh almost nothing.

“Miyuki-kun. What you need to understand is that Ei-chan cared a lot about you. You clearly cared a lot about him. You may think that, because you didn’t show it in the way you think you should have, it didn’t matter. I can tell you it did matter.” She rubbed his shoulder soothingly as the tears he’d been trying to hold back finally fell.

“It’s like I said before. People show they care in different ways. Your way of caring may have involved a little more teasing than most people’s” She continued, ignoring the wet chuckle he let out at that declaration. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t matter, or that Ei-chan didn’t understand it.”

“I didn’t..” He cried “I never told him I cared. I never… I should have told him at least once. That I loved playing with him. That he mattered to me, even outside of baseball. I never told him he was important to me and I wish I had.” Her hand moved to his hair, gently carding through the strands as he ripped his glasses off to rub his eyes, trying to control the sobs that were tearing through him.

He cried for what felt like a long time.

Breathing deeply in and out, he finally managed to get himself under control. He felt more drained than he ever had, which, after enduring the grueling practices of Seido and now a professional team, was saying a lot.

The woman had allowed him to cry into his hands without a word, rubbing his back in a soothing manner as he folded over and broke into sobs. Now, as he straightened back into a more natural sitting position, she moved to his shoulder instead.

Kazuya had never met any of his grandparents. Both his grandmothers had died before he was born. He wondered if this was what a grandmother might do for their grandchild if they were in his situation. Reassure them with kind words, then let them cry it out without any outward judgement. It was nice. Though he did feel a bit embarrassed.

He sniffled, and rubbed his nose on his sleeve, feeling very young and small. He really should have brought tissues.

“If you could go back, and do it over. What would you do?” The question was unexpected. He let out a wet little laugh.

“Be more honest, I guess. Make sure I told him how much I liked playing with him.” He breathed in, shakily, warming up to the idea. If he could go back, and live those years again. What would he do?

“I’d probably still tease him” he admitted, smiling fondly at the yellow sunflowers he’d purchased what felt so long ago. “But I’d make sure he knew I trusted him to become the ace we needed. That he mattered to me, and that he was always exceeding my expectations.” He paused once again.

“I’d make sure he got to go to Koshien. I’d make sure to keep playing with him, for as long as possible. I’d make sure to tell him he was my favorite pitcher, even if it meant him getting a big head.” He stopped, suddenly miserable. “I’d make sure to go to that stupid convenience store with him, if he asked me again.”

Damn it. Right when he finally stopped crying. He looked up, trying to keep from breaking down again. The stars were unnaturally bright.

The woman gently cupped his face with one of her cold, thin hands, turning him towards her. She smiled gently, teary eyed at him.

“You” she said, softly. “Are a good boy, Miyuki Kazuya.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead, then, faster than he’d have thought possible for a woman of her age, she got up, straightening her kimono. She smiled brightly down at him.

“Please take care of my Ei-chan for me!” One second to the next, she seemed to disappear into the darkness.

Kazuya’s confusion at the statement didn’t fully register. He was suddenly feeling very dizzy.

As he attempted to balance, now on his hands and knees, the scent of incense and lilies surrounded him like a fog. Closing his eyes, he let himself collapse before the Sawamura family grave.

Chapter Text

Miyuki Kazuya startled awake at the sound of an alarm. His head was throbbing. He flailed gracelessly with his right arm, trying to find his phone to shut off the strident ringing, before realizing the alarm sounded nothing like what he usually set his phone alarm to.

Had he set the inn’s alarm clock somehow?

God his head hurt. He reached out further, stretching over the bed, knocking over something from the bedside table. Hopefully he hadn’t just knocked over his glasses. The last thing he needed on top of this headache was to be unable to see clearly.

Finally slamming a hand on what he thought was the alarm clock, he relaxed back into the bed.

Silence. Blessed silence. He fell back asleep.

His second time waking was slightly less jarring than the first. He snorted into wakefulness as a ray of sun struck him. His head was still aching. Without opening his eyes, he slowly propped himself up into a sitting position.

What had even happened last night? He couldn’t remember returning to the inn at all.

He roughly scrubbed his hands over his eyes and squinted against the sunlight as he slowly pried them open.

Huh. That was odd. He could have sworn the window was supposed to be on the left side of the bed.

He blinked further awake. The room was blurry still, without his glasses on. But the sheets were definitely blue. They most definitely were not supposed to be blue. The inn had white sheets. He definitely remembered them being white. White. Not blue.

Where the hell was he?!?

His heart was racing as he scrambled for his glasses. What happened? He hadn’t been drinking, had he?

He remembered talking to the old lady at the cemetery. She’d asked him to take care of Sawamura, and then… He couldn’t remember anything after that. What had she meant by that?

God, he hadn’t passed out because of crying too much, had he? Was that something that could happen? Had that old lady come back and taken him somewhere?

Or, worst case scenario, Sawamura’s family had found him passed out like a bum in front of their family grave and had him put up somewhere to sleep it off. He hoped that was not what happened. The last thing Sawamura’s parents needed from him after bringing up their son’s death in front of the media was to find him passed out in front of their family grave just after Sawamura’s death anniversary.

His glasses were not on the bedside table. He vaguely remembered knocking something to the ground earlier, when the alarm rang. He rolled out of the bed – much lower than the inn’s, he definitely had not misremembered the color of the sheets. So much for wishful thinking.

On his hands and knees, he felt his way over the wooden floor, finally reaching what felt like his glasses’ hard black plastic frames. He sighed in relief, kneeling as he brought them up, ready to put them on and have a better look at where he was.

He paused just before he could.

These glasses were dark blue. They reminded him of the pair he’d had in his third year of middle school. He’d exchanged them for a pair of black ones during his first semester at Seidō, around the same time as he’d started using contacts and sports goggles when playing.

Feeling more confused by the minute, he cautiously put them on.

His vision cleared.

Miyuki Kazuya stared, dumbfounded, as the details of his childhood bedroom sharpened into clarity before him. 

His mind was shocked into stillness.

“What the fuck?” He croaked out loud. His voice sounded higher than he remembered.

For a second, he considered whether he could have committed the insanity of abandoning his room at the inn and travelling all the way back to Edogawa, to his father’s small house by the steel mill, all without remembering a thing.

That possibility was quickly discarded. This was not the nearly empty version of his childhood bedroom that he’d left when he’d moved to the Swallows’ team dormitories, after his high school graduation.

This was a version of his bedroom that had ceased to exist after he went to Seidō. His closet was full of clothes. The tiny desk at the corner of the room was littered with papers and schoolbooks. An old Yomiuri Giants jersey was hung on the wall over his bed. There was a pile of empty boxes in one corner of the room.

Perhaps most damningly, a brand new Seidō uniform was hung on the hook at the back of his bedroom door.

“What the fuck?” he repeated, staring at the neatly pressed blue blazer hung at the door.

‘If you could go back, and do it over. What would you do?’

A chill went up his spine. He shuddered before violently shaking his head.

‘No, no, no.’ He thought, hysterically. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Kazuya. That’s not possible. This is a dream. That’s right, just a dream.’

He closed his eyes tightly, pinching himself sharply at the thin skin on the inside of his elbow. He winced at the pain, opening his eyes.

Nope.  Still his childhood bedroom. Seidō uniform still hung neatly.

He staggered to his feet. Nothing around him changed. Everything seemed solid. Real.

‘It’s not possible. Not possible’ was the mantra running through his head as he examined the details of the room around him.  Tentatively, he grabbed the door handle.

If he opened the door. What would be waiting for him on the other side?

He glanced at the darkening bruise at the inside of his elbow. He opened the door to the perfectly ordinary hallway of the perfectly ordinary home he’d shared with his father for most of his life.

He closed the door. Opened it again. Other than his Seidō uniform swinging side to side because of the movement of the door, nothing happened.

Maybe. Maybe he had it wrong. Maybe this wasn’t the dream. Maybe, what he thought was his life at Seidō and after had been the dream. He stared blankly at the hallway wall. Even as he thought it, he knew it couldn’t be true. He didn’t think he was imaginative enough for his subconscious to make up the cast of characters he’d gotten to know at Seidō.

‘But time travel? Really?’ his rushing mind berated him.

Information, he decided. He needed more information. If he had, somehow, inexplicably, travelled back in time.  ‘When’ exactly was he?

He turned back, checking his alarm clock. Almost 9:30 AM. But the clock had no date display. Even if it had, he considered, it probably wouldn’t have included the year. Though, based on the Seidō uniform, his blue glasses, he could guess he was about to start his first year of high school.

‘You don’t know that for sure’ He argued. ‘You have no idea what is actually happening.’

Right. He better check the calendar in the kitchen. He was already pretty sure of what he’d find there. But. He should still double check. He carefully made his way towards the small kitchen.

At the table, there was a covered pan, as well as a bowl of rice. A sticky note in his father’s scratchy handwriting was stuck on top.

I’m glad you’re taking the chance to sleep in before you have to go Kazuya! I tried making breakfast, but I might have burned the eggs. Kenta-san and I have a meeting with a client today, so I’ll have to work late at the mill to keep the work on track. Don’t wait up for me.

Kazuya stared at the note. Right. That’s why the alarm clock had rung before it was light out. All through middle-school, he’d gotten into the habit of waking up very early so he could make breakfast for himself and his dad. Waking up early enough guaranteed he would share at least one quiet meal with his father every day, before work started at the mill.

It also guaranteed breakfast would be edible, he considered, uncovering the pan. The two fried eggs inside were indeed rather blackened at the edges. He appreciated the attempt though.

He made his way to the fridge, where they kept a small calendar held up by two baseball shaped magnets. He wasn’t entirely sure where they came from, but they had been on the fridge about as long as he could remember.

He was suddenly thankful for his father’s habit of crossing off each day, following the line of multi-colored x’s stretched over the calendar, locating the day’s date. He stared at a day two weeks after, where, circled, his own childish handwriting proclaimed ‘Seidō move-in day!!!’.

He closed his eyes, breathing deliberately slowly.

“You, Miyuki Kazuya, have officially gone insane.” He declared.

He shook his head, violently scratching his hair with both hands.

‘If you could go back, and do it over. What would you do?’

He sighed. It shouldn’t have been possible. But everything indicated it was exactly what was happening right now. He thought of the old lady he’d met at the Sawamura family grave. He was suddenly angry at himself for not asking her who she was. Not that he was sure that would have helped him any at this point.

Had she really been responsible for getting him here? If so, who was she? Was she a god? A spirit? Could she have been the deity enshrined in the shrine the cemetery was at?

He’d never held any real religious belief of any kind, but this certainly made him start to reconsider.

But she’d called Sawamura ‘Ei-chan’. Had Sawamura been religious? That didn’t really fit with his image of Sawamura at all. Not that he could be sure he knew Sawamura very well, outside of baseball… Would Sawamura really have gone to a shrine and talked about playing baseball with him???

That seemed far-fetched, even for Sawamura.

‘Take care of my Ei-chan for me!’

His breath caught. Sawamura.

If this really was the past. If he really had, somehow, been shunted back to right before his first year of high school. Then. Sawamura should still be alive.

He’d be about to begin his third year of middle school. He’d be alive and whole, in Nagano. Fully oblivious to Miyuki Kazuya, and high school baseball, spending his days in the green countryside with all his friends and surrounded by a family that loved him to bits.

The realization nearly toppled him over.  

He was suddenly consumed by the need to check. He needed to make sure, with his own eyes.  That Sawamura was alive. That he was healthy and happy and that this was real.

He scrambled to the little living room and to the small table they kept at the center of it. His memory had not failed and the beat-up laptop he remembered was actually sitting at the corner of the table.

He rushed to open and boot it up, cursing how slow the old thing was as his hands trembled with impatience.

He opened the web browser as soon as he could, but hesitated. Carefully, he typed up a search for Seidō high school first. Best to check if things outside his childhood home were as he remembered before disappointing himself by finding out Sawamura Eijun had never existed in this version of his world. The very thought of it was insupportable.

He quickly started running down the list of results as soon as it loaded – Seidō’s own webpage, a page ranking West Tokyo schools for their university acceptance rates, and there, third result from the top, the Baseball Monthly online blog. He clicked the link, holding his breath in anticipation. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d done this in middle school, after meeting Rei-chan and deciding he would follow Chris-senpai into the high school.

The newest blog post about Seidō was light reading. It discussed the potential of the upcoming third years, Azuma-senpai’s cohort, and made quick mention of the fact that the rising batch of second years showed little promise, with the notable exception of catcher Takigawa Chris Yuu, who’d been brought into the first string the year before as a first year.

It was jarring to see Tetsu-san’s cohort described so disparagingly once again, but it did at least confirm things were aligned with how he remembered them at this time.

Slowly, he typed up a search for Sawamura Eijun. He blinked at the results. Mostly professional profiles of a lawyer at a firm in Okinawa. He bit his lip in frustration.

He tried Sawamura Eijun, Nagano.

There were no matches for his exact search. Of course, there wouldn’t be any… Sawamura would be an unknown middle schooler in the middle of nowhere, Nagano. He ran over other possible searches in his head.

He tried Akagi middle-school, Nagano.

There was a relevant result at least. A notice from the Fujimi Education Authority indicating that the middle school was set to be demolished the following year and that the regions previously serviced by the school would be incorporated into a different school district.

He sat back, removing his glasses in exasperation, glaring at the blurry screen of the laptop.

There was no way around it. If he wanted to make sure Sawamura was alive, it looked like he’d have to head to Nagano once again.

Chapter Text

Kazuya spent the next couple of hours considering his options. Reaching Nagano as a recently graduated middle schooler would be a bit more complicated than as an independent adult with his own apartment. To begin with, he’d have to convince his father of the need to go. He also wasn’t sure the train routes and the bus he’d usually taken were the same now as they were in the future.

Speaking to his father would have to wait. As per the man’s note to him, he would be back late. It should buy him enough time to come up with an excuse for needing to go to Nagano in the first place, as well as roughly map out a plan.

He quickly finished the breakfast his dad had left him (the eggs were burnt at the edges, and rubbery at the center, while the rice was slightly undercooked, but at least it was mostly edible) and started looking up the current train routes to Nagano, as well as what it would cost. Train fares had changed in the five years he’d lived since this time, so it was possible he might be able to make the trip for less than he was used to.

He considered whether it was worth actually spending a night or more in Nagano, and absently reviewed the online page for the inn he had stayed in before. On the one hand, it would make the trip more expensive… And since the Sawamura of this time wouldn’t know him, the only thing he realistically would be able to do would be to check on him from a distance, nothing that he’d need more than a day for.

On the other hand, if he used a baseball training camp as a reason to go (really the most believable choice as far as an excuse went) his father would be unlikely to agree to the need to go all the way to Nagano for something that would only last one day.

Actually, would the inn even allow a minor to get a room without a responsible adult? Most likely not.

He could always tell his father it was supposed to last a few days and still come back in one with some other excuse. It wouldn’t even need to be believable – if he made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it his father would be unlikely to press him further.

 It had always been like this. It had helped Kazuya avoid providing an explanation for the bruises he’d frequently been covered in in elementary and middle school after clashing with his upperclassmen, and it would come in handy now.

He jotted down a potential travel plan in a little notebook he’d unearthed from the kitchen. His best option would likely be to go as early as he could in the morning, on the 5:15 AM train, spend the day looking for signs of Sawamura, then return by an evening train the same day.

He was relieved to find that the bus that he usually took at Fujimi station was apparently already operational, so if he did choose to go in the direction of the inn that was one leg of the journey sorted.

The immediate details of his upcoming trip down to Nagano mostly worked out, he decided to look for the funds needed. He’d rather not have to ask his father for the money if he could help it. Crossing the apartment back to his room he dug out an old tin box from the cluttered desk – it had, at some point, held castella cake, going by the decorative stamped relief on top, but Kazuya had been using it to save some of his allowance since elementary school, taking money out whenever he had something he actually wanted and could afford.

As far as he could recall, he’d been saving for a new pair of cleats around this time, so hopefully the amount inside would cover most, if not all the fares of the trip. He quickly counted the mussed bills and scattered coins at the bottom of the box.

It should cover the full trip, he realized with some relief. It wouldn’t cover the trip and a pair of cleats, but he could always use the equipment stipend included in his Seidō scholarship for those.

Money tidied up and itinerary roughly planned, he was left wondering what to do.  It was a bit of a surreal situation he found himself in.

‘A bit. Right’ He thought to himself. He felt slightly jittery with the need to get going right that second, but there was nothing he could do about it. He abruptly realized he wouldn’t be able to go the next day either. His father would be unlikely to believe he had forgotten to inform him of a baseball training camp until the evening before. He’d have to stay in Tokyo at least a couple of days to be able to head to Nagano without causing undue concern or suspicion.

He buried his head in his hands as he dropped onto the bed. If he was this anxious now, he couldn’t imagine how much worse the next couple of days would be. On the other hand, he considered, staring at the ceiling as he laid down on the bed, the delay might actually be a good thing.

While so far this seemed like genuine time travel, he had no guarantee he wouldn’t wake up tomorrow back in his own time. No, it was better to wait.  

He glanced at the empty boxes piled at the corner of the room, waiting for him to pack his belongings to move into the Seidō dorms. If he really had travelled back in time, and would be reliving his high school years, he might as well start packing. It’s not like he would lose anything by getting started anyways. At the very least, he decided, it might distract him from the anxious need to check on Sawamura’s existence.

The conversation with his father was easier than expected. While Miyuki Toku expressed some disbelief that a training camp would be held just before the start of the school year, in Nagano of all places, Kazuya was quickly able to dismiss his concerns on that front by stating it was a training camp originally meant to pool some of the talent from upcoming first years of the smaller schools in the region, with few spots for students from larger schools outside Nagano prefecture. For a lie he’d come up with on the fly, it wasn’t bad.

His dad was further reassured as Kazuya borrowed Rei-chan’s name, letting him know she’d been the one to mention the ‘training camp’ to him. Toku wasn’t the type to question Kazuya, so it was unlikely that he’d call the Seidō recruiter to double check the information. He acquiesced to the trip readily then, and was quick to reassure Kazuya he could pay for the train fares, which his son firmly refused. He’d use his allowance savings, as he’d decided.

The next two days passed in a slog, marked by restless nights. They were, however, relatively instructive.

For one, after the first nearly sleepless night, Kazuya had woken up as normal. He was not back in the future, and there were no other unexpected time shifts, either. Despite his feeling as though the hours were passing much too slow, time seemed to be passing perfectly normally for everyone else.

He was also able to verify just what future knowledge he’d retained. He was easily able to recall things like recipes he’d learned in the future, as evidenced by his being able to cook a relatively complicated braised eggplant dish he’d learned when living in his own apartment without any issues, other than surprising his dad a bit. He was slightly concerned that his father would think there was something wrong, or remark that his behavior was odd somehow, but, thankfully, other than surprise cooking skills his dad didn’t seem to think anything was different about him.

A visit to the local batting cages on the second day (a bid to occupy himself through the interminably long hours until he could hop on a train to Nagano) made it depressingly clear that his baseball skills were not fully retained.

He could see the balls at top speed just fine, but no matter what he tried he could not react well enough make contact with the consistency he’d had in the future he’d come from. It was clear that he’d have to rebuild his baseball skills while reliving his years at Seidō, though he supposed he would have a leg up just by having the knowledge of what had worked for him last time.

He tried to fill as many hours as possible. This meant a lot of cooking, watching old baseball games, and packing for his move to the Seidō dorms. He packed a lot of the food he made into Tupperware containers – ostensibly for his dad. He was only planning on being gone one day, but the fridge was packed as though he’d stay the full 4 days he’d informed his dad the camp would last. It made for a good blind – his dad would never expect him to come back early with all the prepared food in the fridge.

Finally, on the fourth day since waking up in the past, he was ready to go. He’d woken up at an unearthly hour of the morning, made breakfast for himself and his dad (though his stomach was turning into knots and he was barely able to eat two mouthfuls) and said goodbye as he shouldered his duffle and made for the bus station, agreeing to call his father later in the day to check in and confirm things were fine.

He’d packed lightly, not bothering to pack his full catcher’s gear for a fake training camp, though he had packed his mitt. He had also packed a couple of changes of clothes, as well as a toothbrush, just in case.

The trip to Tokyo Station was a blur of early morning dimness and the rocking of the bus. The nerves were already making him nauseous, and the motion was certainly not helping. He was so out of it by the time he reached the station that he found himself holding a newly purchased bouquet of yellow sunflowers before even realizing he’d stopped by a flower shop.

He stared at them blankly while waiting for the train at the end of the platform.

“Miyuki Kazuya, you complete and utter moron.” He scolded himself, drawing a disturbed glance from a woman standing next to him.

He sighed. Nothing he could do about the flowers now. The best he could do was to take them with him. It was at least slightly comforting to know that, so far, all evidence pointed to them being completely unnecessary – if the whole time travel thing was as it seemed, Sawamura would be just fine, in Nagano.

The rest of the trip was perfectly uneventful. It was strange to be heading to Nagano in the early light of morning rather than in the late afternoon. He stared blankly out the window, thoughts drawn to how he might try to find Sawamura once he got there.

By the time he got off the Fujimi bus, at his usual stop by the inn, he was nowhere closer to a course of action.

He stared out at the empty country road and dropped into a squat, hugging his duffle and bundle of flowers with a sigh. Where to from here? He didn’t know Sawamura’s address. The two other times he’d made his way to Sawamura’s hometown he’d only gone to visit the grave. Even if he did know where Sawamura’s house was located, he considered, it’s not like he could just pop in.

The Sawamura of this time had never met him. If he was seen skulking around a family home in this area, he’d definitely be deemed suspicious. Neither could he hope to search through all the surrounding area for the boy. He was surrounded by what was mostly farmland and mountain terrain, with small clusters of houses and shops speckled throughout. There was no way he could randomly walk around hoping to see Sawamura.

Ruefully, he cursed the fact that he’d neglected to look up where the nearest baseball field was located. That would have been his first stop.

Glancing at the sunflowers bundled in his arms he gave a resigned sigh. Nothing else for it. He might as well head to the cemetery. This whole mess had started at Sawamura’s family grave. Who knew, he might get a sign of some kind there.

He shouldered his duffle bag with renewed determination, starting on his way to the little hill with the shrine. He’d not been expecting early spring to look quite so different than early summer had, but the hill was a riot of blush pink apricot and plum blossoms, with the occasional early blooming violet rhododendron.

It was a rather spectacular view, and a great departure from the darkened cemetery he’d encountered in his last two visits – probably mostly due to the fact that he was in the bright open light of day this time around. It couldn’t be much later than 9:30.

He carefully made his way to the Sawamura family grave, heart thundering in trepidation.

The grave itself looked mostly unchanged. The same little sand-filled dish with a burnt out stick of incense. White lilies decorated the vases, though these were rather more wilted. He wondered if this meant the flowers that adorned the grave in his last two visits weren’t picked specifically for Sawamura.

Kazuya stared at the grave for a while, before glancing around. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but there were no signs waiting for him. The whole place looked normal. He knelt down with a frustrated sigh, dropping his duffle to the ground along with his sunflowers.

He glared at the carved characters on the stone, then looked around once again. There was no one at the cemetery.

“So, what now?” He called out. “I don’t know who, or what you are, but I’m here now. Where do I go from here?” 

He twisted to look around himself, getting up restlessly and pacing before the grave. He half expected the little old lady to pop out next to him. But the only thing that answered him was a light spring breeze, blossoms dancing around him as they were ripped from the trees around the cemetery.

“You asked me to look after him, didn’t you?” He tried again. “I can’t do that if I don’t know how to find him.”

Silence was his only answer.

“You can’t expect me to wait months for him, please. I already spent two years without him!” He snapped, frustrated.

Nothing.

He rubbed at his temples, frustrated. Still standing, he bowed to the grave, hands pressed together before him as though in supplication.

“Please” He cajoled “I just need a hint. Please help me find him.”

He was startled by a loud gasp behind him, and the sound of something falling to the gravel path that wound between the graves. He turned in surprise.

There, standing a couple of meters away, dressed in an obnoxiously yellow hoodie, golden-brown eyes blown wide in recognition was Sawamura Eijun.

“MIYUKI KAZUYA?!?!?”

Chapter Text

“MIYUKI KAZUYA?!?!?” Sawamura yelled, gaping and pointing at Kazuya. “What are you doing here!?”

For a second, Kazuya just stared at him. Because it was impossible. Because the Sawamura of this time should not know who he was. Unless this wasn’t actually the past he knew and instead a different version of it where Sawamura and he had met before he ever went to Seidō.

He swallowed against his suddenly very dry throat.

“Sorry, have we met?” He croaked out, drinking in the sight of Sawamura there, so close, flushed and staring astonishedly at him.

Uncertainty crept into Sawamura’s golden gaze.

“Um… At Seidō?” He answered slowly, clearly unsure. “Uh. Unless you’re not Miyuki Kazuya?”

Kazuya blinked. ‘At Seidō?’ But. This Sawamura was too young to have gone to Seidō. How could they have met there? Kazuya shook his head. He wasn’t sure what was happening right now. He needed a different question.

“When was the last time you saw me?” he asked. His pulse was thundering in his ears, so much so he was suddenly scared he wouldn’t hear Sawamura’s response. But the other boy seemed to realize what Kazuya was getting at, because his eyes widened again, glowing suddenly with determination the way they did when he pitched from the mound. He puffed up and answered firmly and loudly.

“It was right before Kōshien, Miyuki Kazuya! You told me to get you coffee ice cream! That’s a really gross ice cream flavor, you know!”

It was enough. Kazuya tackled Sawamura, grasping him tightly and crushing his forehead to the boy’s shoulder, ignoring the ‘Oof’ Sawamura let out at the impact. He laughed and laughed and laughed, until he started sobbing, though it was hard to tell when the laughter ended and the crying began.

He laughed because it was an impossibility. This was so far beyond his expectations, even taking the apparent time travel into account, that it was laughable.

 It was impossible because this wasn’t just a version of Sawamura that had existed before he ever met Kazuya. This was his Sawamura. The one he knew. The one he lost.  But here he was, warm and solid in his arms and alive.

‘Thank you’ He offered even as he sobbed, thinking of the old lady in the blue kimono with her gentle smile ‘Thank you thank you thank you’. He could think of no other words.

“Here you go.” Sawamura said, handing him a can of very cold lemon-lime soda, before sitting down next to Kazuya on the grass. He sat close enough their thighs brushed and Kazuya could feel his warmth seep into his own body.

“Thanks.” Kazuya croaked, clearing his throat. He pressed the can to his eyes for a second, hoping it would soothe the tightness around them. Even without looking into a mirror he knew they were red and swollen from how much he’d cried. He didn’t know for how long he’d sobbed into Sawamura’s shoulder, but it was probably a pretty long time. No wonder his throat also felt horrible.

He sat up from where he’d been lying with his back pressed to the grass to sit shoulder to shoulder with Sawamura. The other boy was throwing him quick, concerned glances, as though not sure he was allowed to look for longer than a couple of seconds at a time. The rest of the time he was either looking out to the stacked gravestones spread before them or down at the ground, where he’d started restlessly tearing up blades of grass between his fingers.

The two boys were on a grassy knoll a very short walk away from the line of graves where Sawamura’s family grave was located. A massive moss covered bolder surrounded by four wooden posts connected by large shimenawa stood imposingly to their left while a blooming apricot tree threw shade directly onto them.

Sawamura had maneuvered them to the place once Kazuya had calmed down some, manhandling the catcher to lay on the ground before he’d rushed to get something to drink from the vending machine on the other side of the shrine grounds.

Kazuya hadn’t wanted to let him go at all, but after his long emotional outburst he felt as weak as a kitten and Sawamura had dashed off with a promise to be back quickly. Kazuya figured the pitcher was probably panicking a bit after his upperclassman had basically tackled him into an uncharacteristic hug before bursting into laughter and then full out sobbing.  

He was sure there were probably less embarrassing ways to be reacquainted with his formerly deceased kōhai but he couldn’t be bothered to care. He was too happy to have Sawamura, his Sawamura, alive and next to him.

He cracked open the can of soda, grimacing slightly at the sugar content on the label.

“Sorry” Sawamura offered, clearly catching his grimace “I know you think it’s too sweet but pretty much everything else was sold out. They don’t really re-stock the vending machines here very often”.

“It’s fine” Kazuya was quick to reassure him, voice cracking a bit. “Thanks for getting it for me.”

Kazuya started to take a few quick gulps of the ice-cold soda, ignoring the tingle of carbonation in favor of the coolness of the liquid soothing his ravaged throat.

“Hey, Miyuki-senpai. Did I die?”

Kazuya choked, taken aback by the question. He could feel the carbonation climb up his nose and coughed violently, nearly spilling the rest of the can on himself as he reacted. It was true that Sawamura apparently remembered that last day, given he’d mentioned Kazuya’s request for coffee flavored ice cream, but did he actually remember dying? God what a horrific thought.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to surprise you!” Sawamura had turned at Kazuya’s frantic coughing, hands fluttering as though unsure what to do to help. “It’s just. I’m pretty sure I got hurt? So when I woke up I expected to be in a hospital or something, only I wasn’t, I was in my room, and it was really weird and” He took a deep breath, then added, in a really small voice “I really thought I was going crazy. It was like I imagined the whole thing, only I knew that couldn’t be it. So… So I was really surprised when I saw you.”

He looked back down at the torn pile of grass sitting before him, moving to tangle his fingers with the bristly green shreds.

“So, did I die?” He turned to look Kazuya in the eye, his own filled with trepidation.

Kazuya didn’t know what to say. It was a terrible thing to want confirmation on. But it’s not like he could lie to Sawamura about this.

“Yes” he croaked, once he’d finished coughing “You did. It was a car. The driver had been drinking and sped through the light. You… You didn’t really make it to the hospital. You were too hurt.” His voice sounded hollow to his own ears.

“O-oh.” Sawamura looked… he didn’t look surprised, not really. But at the same time, he did look like he hadn’t fully been expecting the confirmation. He took a deep breath before getting up and clapping his hands together.

“Well, that’s that! Thanks for telling me Miyuki!” He turned and smiled at Kazuya, though it was a little wobbly. “I guess it doesn’t matter now, since I’m alive and all.”

Then his eyes widened as though he’d come to some terrible realization.

“Wait, then… Miyuki-senpai did you also…?” He sounded so heartbroken it took Miyuki a second to realize what Sawamura was asking him.

“No!” He responded quickly, trying to assuage the concern stamped all over the other boy’s face. “I don’t think so, at least.”

For someone who had so determinedly declared his own death didn’t matter a moment earlier he sure looked upset about Miyuki’s hypothetical demise despite the catcher also being clearly alive and well in this time. Sawamura let out a comically long sigh of relief, before his brows furrowed together in confusion.

“But… Then how…?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, honestly.” Kazuya answered the unasked question drily, getting up as well and brushing the grass off the seat of his pants. “I came to visit you” he continued “a couple of days after your death anniversary.”

“Visit me?”  Sawamura echoed, sounding a bit distracted. Kazuya prepared to elaborate on his statement and describe his encounter with the mysterious old lady in the blue kimono, but he didn’t get the chance. Sawamura looked out to the line of graves they’d come from, and suddenly blurted out “Oh, no!! I forgot!!” dashing in that direction.

Kazuya, shocked, took a second to follow him, calling out in surprise.

“Sorry! I was so surprised when I saw you, I dropped them! I completely forgot!” Sawamura yelled at him over his shoulder. He let out a cry of delight as they approached his family grave once again, reaching towards the ground to pick up something. Kazuya realized it was probably what he’d heard drop to the ground, when Sawamura saw him.

It was probably a good thing they’d come back, Kazuya realized. His own duffle was still sitting on the ground before the grave, just as he’d left it when he rushed towards Sawamura. The sunflowers were also untouched, tucked in their white paper wrapping.

Sawamura was making his way back towards him from where he picked up whatever he’d dropped. Kazuya realized as he approached that it was a bundle similar to his own bouquet of sunflowers. Instead of bright yellow flowers, however, Sawamura was carrying a neat bouquet of white lilies, gently brushing the dust from the gravel away from the rumpled petals.

“They’re for my grandma!” He told Kazuya, noticing his look at the flowers. “When you said you came for my death anniversary, I remembered I was supposed to replace the flowers for her. It was her death anniversary a few days ago.”

“Oh.” Kazuya looked on as Sawamura removed the wilted lilies from the vases next to the grave and replaced them with the fresh blooms. He wondered if Sawamura’s grandmother would have called him ‘Ei-chan’.

“When you say a few days ago. Do you mean the day you woke up in this time?”

Sawamura glanced at him in surprise.

“Yeah! How did you know?”

“Was that three days ago?”

“Yeah…” Sawamura looked at him as though he wasn’t sure why Kazuya was asking him these questions. “Did you also wake up then Miyuki?”

“I did, yeah. Say, Sawamura, did you come visit your grandma during our winter break at Seidō?”

Sawamura eyes widened so much they looked like they might fall out of his head.

“How did you know that!?!? Miyuki Kazuya I’ve never talked about my grandma with you!!!” Kazuya couldn’t believe he’d actually missed how loud this kid was. He gestured placatingly at the pitcher to keep him from yelling any more.

“Yeah, about that. I’m pretty sure I met her? And I think she might be the reason I’m here?” 

Sawamura stared at him. Then at his family grave. Back at Kazuya.

“Um. Miyuki-senpai. My grandma died five years ago. Like, from this time, I mean.” He sounded very confused.

“Her ghost then. Or something like that.” Kazuya clarified, lifting his glasses so he could rub the bridge of his nose. “I came to visit you” he continued, gesturing towards the grave “and this old lady in a dark blue kimono just popped up.” Sawamura’s eyes widened again in surprise – apparently the mention of the dark blue kimono meant something to him.

“I never saw her coming. We talked, mostly about you. She knew I was your catcher, and that we worked on your pitching together during the winter. She also knew about me getting angry with you over what you said about Chris-senpai. And then she asked me what I’d do if I could live through things again.” Sawamura was still staring at him, enraptured. “I answered, she told me to look after you for her and I passed out. I woke up in my room in Tokyo, apparently the morning of her fifth death anniversary.” He concluded.

Sawamura looked unsure.

“She did wear kimono. She made them, actually. There was a really pretty blue one she wore a lot. There were cranes on it.”

“And chrysanthemums?” Kazuya asked breathlessly. Sawamura stared at him, eyes as wide as saucers, and offered only a mute nod, clearly floored by the revelation.

“That’s it.” Kazuya breathed out. “That’s what she was wearing.”

They both stared at the grave.

After what felt like several minutes, Sawamura bowed deeply in front of it, forehead touching the ground. Kazuya was quick to mimic him.

“Grandma! Thank you!” Sawamura called, sounding choked up. “Thank you for sending me Miyuki Kazuya! I promise this time I’ll live a long life!”

Kazuya followed, speaking clearly despite the roughness in his own voice.

“Sawamura-san, thank you. I didn’t know who you were but thank you for giving me this chance. I won’t waste it.”

There was no answer to their declarations. Both boys sat up and looked at one another.

“So…what now?” Kazuya asked, feeling a bit awkward.

Sawamura brushed aside the few tears that had fallen as he thanked his grandma. Then, he beamed at Kazuya.

“Miyuki Kazuya! Catch for me!”

Chapter Text

In the end, Kazuya could never have refused the request. He and Sawamura had always understood each other through baseball and Kazuya had fiercely missed playing with him. He did have to put limits to what they could do though.

“I didn’t bring any catcher’s gear Sawamura, so we won’t be doing any more than a light game of catch.”

“Oh, that’s no problem! We can get the gear at my school!!”

“We’re not breaking and entering just to play catch, Sawamura! Your school is closed for break, isn’t it? And I’m not a student there.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine! No one would notice! I want to work on my pitches!”

“No. I have my mitt, so we can play a bit but I’m not helping you sneak equipment out of your school. We could both get in trouble.”

“Gah! Miyuki Kazuya! FINE! We can just throw a bit, then.”

Sawamura pouted for a while, but he got over it pretty quickly. He led the way to his family home, dragging Kazuya by the wrist. The house was some 15 minutes away from the shrine grounds, though Kazuya did not have the chance for a very good look as he waited outside while the other boy ran to grab his glove and a few baseballs.

Sawamura was all smiles once they actually started throwing a ball around. It didn’t last long, however. Their game of catch quickly became an exercise in frustration. It was clear that, like Kazuya, Sawamura had a clear expectation of where his skills were supposed to be, and every time a ball went somewhere he wasn’t aiming for he was being reminded that they were currently not what they were when he died.

After a couple of hours of throwing back and forth, with Kazuya struggling to catch Sawamura’s stronger throws and noticing the tension building on the pitcher’s shoulders he decided to call for a break. He made his way to one of the benches surrounding the green park they’d ended up in, sitting down heavily and wiping the sweat from his brow.

Sawamura followed at a slow pace, biting his lips.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” The pitcher groused, slumping onto the bench next to Kazuya.

“I wouldn’t say it’s bad exactly.” Kazuya corrected. “It’s honestly pretty much what I’d have expected of you when you first came to Seidō last time.”

“BUT! I already know how to throw better this time! Why isn’t it working!?”

Kazuya considered the question. While they weren’t seriously practicing pitches, he had noticed Sawamura had been attempting to throw with the form he’d developed while at Seidō, paying attention to his grip on the ball and the swing of his arm in a way he hadn’t when he’d first come to the high school.

“I don’t think you should try throwing the way you were doing in your second year just yet.” Kazuya started, looking seriously at Sawamura. The pitcher looked insulted and was already opening his mouth for what was clearly going to be a furious retort, but Kazuya interrupted him quickly.

“Hear me out! You didn’t start pitching the way you were pitching in your second year as soon as you got to Seidō right?” He started. Sawamura looked taken aback by the question, but nodded tentatively. “There was a lot of conditioning work you had to go through before your pitching stabilized. To be honest, I don’t think you have the core strength and the balance right now to pitch the way you were pitching during your second year.”

Sawamura’s eyes had widened in realization. Kazuya continued.

“Forcing things isn’t going to help. If anything, it could get you injured, forcing yourself to throw like that. You’re going to have to build yourself up again from the beginning.”

It was clearly not what Sawamura had wanted to hear. He was actually frowning, though he at least was taking the advice seriously.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kazuya continued, trying to soften the blow a bit “I’m in the same boat. I went to the batting cages closest to my dad’s house yesterday and I couldn’t make any contact most of the time.”

Sawamura looked mollified at that.

“Hm, I guess that’s true.” He brightened further. “And this time I have a whole extra year before I get to Seidō!”

He practically bounced off the bench, throwing his hands up into the air.

“YOSH! Watch out, Furuya!! I’ll be the ace way earlier this time!”

Kazuya laughed at his enthusiasm.

“Do you even know what to do to build yourself up before getting to Seidō?” He asked, amused. “You do have a year to work on things, but that’s not going to matter if you don’t know what to improve on, you know?”

Sawamura immediately turned to him, cat-eyed and bristling.

“Don’t underestimate me, Miyuki Kazuya!” He yelled, pointing dramatically at the catcher. “I’m not that much of an idiot! I had to run a lot! So I’ll run this time too! And I remember a lot of the exercises Chris-senpai had me do! And the shadow pitching boss had me start with! I can work on all of those!”

Kazuya just laughed at the dramatic pointing that followed each sentence, folding over and holding his stomach. God he’d missed Sawamura.

Suddenly, the pitcher froze over, mouth open, still pointing at Kazuya.

“What?” the catcher asked, wiping his eyes. He’d teared up from laughing so hard.

“Miyuki Kazuya! We’re back in time!” Sawamura declared, as though it was a major revelation.

Kazuya blinked at him, amused.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we figured that out already?” 

“Chris-senpai! All the senpais! Miyuki Kazuya, don’t you see?!? This is a second chance!” Kazuya stared at him, not fully following. Sawamura grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him back and forth.

“If I get good enough, maybe we can do it! We can take the senpai to summer Kōshien this time!!!”

“Oh” Kazuya breathed out. He honestly had not considered what would happen at Seidō beyond Sawamura joining him the following year. But Sawamura had a point. This wasn’t a second chance just for the two of them. If they both played their cards right, there was every chance they could present a stronger challenge to their rival schools and get to summer nationals with Tetsu-san and the rest.

Sawamura was beaming at him. A second realization struck Kazuya, suddenly.

“Chris-senpai!” He grabbed at Sawamura’s shoulders to stop the shaking. “If I can figure out when exactly he got injured, maybe I can stop him from damaging his shoulder so much he couldn’t play. I could actually earn my spot as the starting catcher this time.”

Sawamura huffed.

“As if you could beat Chris-senpai! In your dreams Miyuki Kazuya!” He was smiling so wide it was clear he wasn’t serious.

“You brat! Be a bit more encouraging, will you?”

They both looked at one another and burst out laughing. It was good, Kazuya considered. It was good to think of this as an actual second chance. A chance to change results he’d been unhappy with last time. A chance to make sure other people he cared about got what they deserved this time.

“I thought you knew when Chris-senpai got injured.” Sawamura said once they finally stopped laughing.

“No.” Kazuya answered the implied question, shaking his head a little. “I know when he collapsed, but he hid things for so long I don’t think anyone on the team knew exactly when he got the original injury. He probably told coach Kataoka, but they never told the rest of us when it happened exactly. But if I can figure it out, I can maybe stop it from happening. Or at the very least get him to go to the coach earlier.”

“We’ll finally get to go to Kōshien this time.” Kazuya declared with a determined nod at Sawamura.  

“You mean I’ll get to finally go” Sawamura said, poking him. “You already got to go.”

“I meant the summer one, we both know that one’s the real deal” Kazuya explained, waving the objection aside. “Besides, even though you didn’t play much you did go to the spring Kōshien Sawamura.”

Sawamura turned to him, confused.

“I meant the summer one too!” He said, frowning at Kazuya. “I died, remember? So I didn’t get to go. How did it go, by the way? Did Furuya beat Hongo?”  

Kazuya felt a chill at the reminder of what had happened. He stared at Sawamura.

“We didn’t go.” He answered numbly. Sawamura frowned harder.

“Of course you did. We beat Inashiro!”

“We did, yeah. But you died, Sawamura. The school pulled out of nationals the day after.”

Sawamura just stared at him for a second, eyes wide.

“WHAT? And you just LET them? What about the rest of the team?!?”

Kazuya was suddenly, blisteringly furious.

“You died Sawamura!” He snapped, glaring at the pitcher. “Actually died. Kuramochi and I saw you bleeding out on the street and then the same day coach had to tell the whole team you didn’t even make it to the hospital. Do you have any idea what we felt that day? We were all grieving! Do you seriously think a single person in that team was thinking about fucking baseball?”

Sawamura seemed taken aback. Kazuya couldn’t stand how oblivious he was to his own impact on the team.

“Do you think a single one of us was thinking about playing? Seriously?” Kazuya dropped his head to his hands, tearing away his glasses and rubbing his eyes furiously. He continued, voice muffled.

“Everyone cared about you, you complete idiot. All of us were miserable. Furuya didn’t speak a single word for three whole weeks after you died. Kuramochi and Asada couldn’t even sleep in room five. There was no way we could have played at Kōshien after that. You meant too much to the team.”

Kazuya let out a ragged breath at the forceful reminder of those days. Kōshien indeed. As if they could have just gone on to play.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Miyuki-senpai. Please don’t cry!” Sawamura sounded really upset. He was awkwardly patting his head, clearly unsure what to do.

“I’m not crying!” Kazuya barked out, lifting his head to glare at Sawamura. He ignored the fact that his eyes were indeed stinging. As long as there weren’t actual tears it wasn’t a lie. The pitcher looked deeply unhappy.

“I really ruined things for everyone, huh?” He asked, in a small voice. “I’m really s-”

“If you try to apologize for getting hit by a car and dying, I will hit you, Sawamura. We both know that wasn’t your fault, so save it!”

Sawamura stared at him. Then let out a nervous giggle.

“You sounded just like Kuramochi-senpai just then, Miyuki.” Kazuya sighed deeply, forcing himself to relax. He couldn’t really blame Sawamura for not understanding the effect his death had on the team. He often seemed oblivious to how much he affected people.

“That’s Miyuki-senpai to you, you brat.” He muttered, kicking out half-heartedly at Sawamura’s ankle.

He rubbed his temples, ignoring Sawamura’s fidgeting next to him. He needed to change the subject, he decided. He didn’t really want to rehash what had happened in the aftermath of Sawamura’s death. Not when Sawamura was alive right next to him.

“Say, Sawamura, do you know when the last train to Tokyo leaves Fujimi station today?”  He asked, ignoring Sawamura’s surprised start at the question.

“Huh? Yeah, I do. But why do you want to know?”

“Well, I do need to go back home at some point, Sawamura.” Kazuya answered drily.

“Today?!? But! But you just got here!” Sawamura cried out. He clearly hadn’t expected that answer.

Kazuya shrugged in response. It’s not like he wanted to say goodbye either. Finding Sawamura, his Sawamura, had been a surprise. A wonderful, too good to be true surprise. He was actually a little afraid of letting him out of his sight, just in case he dissolved into thin air. But he could see little alternative.

“I don’t really have a place to stay here, Sawamura. I was expecting to find middle school you. You know? From before you ever went to Seidō? I didn’t think you’d recognize me at all. I thought I’d just check to see if you were alive and then I planned to return to Tokyo as soon as I confirmed it.”

Sawamura’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“You can just stay over at my place for the next couple of days! You don’t have to move into Seidō for a while still, right?” He asked. “My parents won’t mind!”

Kazuya blinked at him.

“I’m moving into the dorms in a bit over a week. But that wouldn’t work Sawamura. Your parents don’t know me. How would they be okay with letting me sleep over for a couple of days?”

“It’s fine!” Sawamura insisted, bouncing on his toes in excitement. “I used to bring new friends over all of the time! My mom usually just called their moms to introduce herself and that was it! Since you’re older she’ll probably even let you get away with calling your dad yourself!”

Kazuya considered. He had told his dad the ‘training camp’ would last four days. If he could spend that time with Sawamura, that would prevent his dad from asking too many questions about an early return. It also had the clear benefit of, well, more time with Sawamura.

“I don’t know…” He hedged.

“I promise they’ll be fine with it! Especially if I tell them you play baseball!” Sawamura pushed, looking at him with the widest puppy eyes Kazuya had ever seen him use. His hesitation crumbled.

“Fine. But we’d better come up with a good excuse for your parents. And I will have to go back in three days. That’s when the excuse I gave my dad runs out.”

“YES!” Sawamura fist pumped. He was clearly ecstatic. He beamed at Kazuya, smiling so wide his eyes were nearly closed.

“That means I get to introduce you to my parents this time!” He chattered happily. “I always wanted to bring you to Nagano so they could meet you!”

Kazuya grimaced.

“I did meet your parents last time.” Sawamura glanced at him, head tilted in that puppyish way of his Kazuya hadn’t realized he’d missed.

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember introducing you to my parents Miyuki Kazuya!” He said, putting his hands on his hips.

“You didn’t” Kazuya clarified. “I met them at your funeral.” 

Chapter Text

Miyuki Kazuya did remember the funeral. Rei- chan had organized it, and the Seidō Alumni Association would be paying for it. Sawamura was to be cremated in Tokyo, and his ashes were to be taken to his hometown in Nagano for burial at his family’s ancestral grave, according to the tasteful writeup in Baseball Monthly. It had been authored by Mine-san.

He remembered wearing a scratchy black suit, too tight at the shoulders and short at the wrists as he stepped out of the car behind coach Kataoka in front of the private funeral hall in Tokyo. It had been a stiflingly hot day, without a cloud in the sky.

He remembered thinking of how unfair it was, that it wasn’t raining. How unfair it was that Sawamura was gone and it was still bright out.

Only himself, Kuramochi, and Maezono had been allowed to accompany coach Kataoka and Rei-chan, as captain and vice-captains of the team. Kanemaru and Kominato had heatedly argued for their right to go, but the school administration had put their foot down – if they made an exception for them, they’d have to make further exceptions, and the last thing they wanted was to cart a horde of highschoolers to what was supposed to be a small, private funeral.  

That hadn’t felt fair either.

He remembered Chris, Jun-san and Tetsu-san had met them at the door to the funeral hall. Ryou-san had instead made his way to Seidō, in an attempt to comfort his younger brother

Kazuya had expected Chris. He knew that one of the unread messages that had flooded his phone in the past week was a message from his senpai, letting him know he’d be flying in from America for the funeral. Chris had reached out to Kazuya, holding onto his shoulder tightly, but Kazuya had shrugged him off then. He couldn’t bear to receive any kind of comfort from Chris then. Maybe he should have allowed it – Chris-senpai might have been trying to comfort himself as well.  

Chris’ eyes had been rimmed red, and his hands had been shaking. The light in his eyes had become dim again. He never said anything, mouth pressed thin.

Kazuya remembered how they had made their way inside to the room where Sawamura’s funeral was being held. Flower wreaths had lined the sides of the hallway leading to the room where the funeral was being held – all of them with printed messages of condolence.  He’d read them over absentmindedly as they walked, noticing some from schools they’d played against. There was even one from the national high school baseball association. One from the Seidō alumni association as well.

It had deeply annoyed him at the time. These people hadn’t known Sawamura. They hadn’t really cared. Sending flowers was just what was expected, so they had all done it. That was probably an uncharitable thought, but he couldn’t help it at the time.

He’d expected to see Sawamura’s family. Of course he had. Kazuya remembered him showing grainy pictures on his phone one day, when he’d gone to room five to go over an assignment he and Kuramochi had for Japanese literature. He wasn’t sure anymore when the topic had transitioned into Sawamura’s family, only that he and Kuramochi had ended up bent over the pitcher’s phone as he excitedly described his family to them.

He did remember his impression, from the disjointed anecdotes Sawamura had shared and the accompanying pictures, of a loud and aggressively loving family, including an ogre of a grandfather who showed affection much in the same way as Kuramochi did.

He thought he’d been prepared to see Sawamura’s family. But in truth, he’d been completely unprepared for the three people that sat by the memorial altar in the greeting room that hosted Sawamura’s funeral service.

Dressed in black kimono, Sawamura’s mother cut a grim and silent silhouette. She’d looked much older than the woman in Sawamura’s pictures, her eyes red and corners of her mouth tipped down. She’d offered them all wan smiles as they all bowed and offered their condolences, but did not speak. Kazuya couldn’t help but look for traces of Sawamura in her face, but other than the color of her eyes, nothing about the wan and quiet woman reminded him of the pitcher.  

The two people behind Sawamura’s mother had been an even greater shock

Sawamura’s father had seemed like a man defeated. His hair, rather than being styled in the dramatic pompadour featured in the photos, had hung loose and tangled around his head. Stubble grew unevenly over his cheeks and chin, clearly unkempt. He’d curled into himself and had offered no more than a bobbing nod at each of them as they bowed.

Most shocking of all was who could have only been Sawamura’s grandfather. More than anyone else, he had been the one featured in the stories Sawamura had shared about his family.

The pitcher had mentioned that his grandpa had been the one to teach him how to play baseball. Then, the eldest Sawamura had come across as a brash old man who was strong as a bull and who loved his family fiercely, even if he showed it rather violently.

Nothing could have resembled the man sitting by the altar less. Sawamura’s grandfather had looked like a thin little old man with a limp shock of white hair, shockingly fragile, with skinny limbs hugging his own body as though in a parody of comfort. He had not moved at all as they all bowed and offered their sentiments and did not react in any way to any of their introductions. The old man had looked unresponsive, staring out blankly at the photo of his grandson that sat in the middle of the flower covered altar.

There had been no trace of the people featured in the photos Sawamura had shared. As he’d stared at the three of them, Kazuya couldn’t help but think ‘Ah. That’s because those people are already dead.’

Kazuya didn’t share that impression with Sawamura, even as he recalled it.  The pitcher was frowning, tossing the baseball they’d been using from one hand to the other mindlessly as they slowly made their way back towards his house.   

“I didn’t realize there was a funeral.” He admitted with a grimace. It was Kazuya’s turn to frown. 

“What, you didn’t think your family would have a funeral for you?” That seemed strange. Everything indicated Sawamura actually had a good relationship with his family. Sawamura paused at the corner of the park and shook his head.

“I guess I didn’t think about it. I didn’t think about dying at all.”

Kazuya could understand that. Sawamura’s death had been so shocking precisely because it was so sudden and unexpected. It was little wonder he himself had not considered it at all before it actually happened.

“Say, Miyuki-senpai. I know you said you were visiting for my death anniversary, so it was like a year later. But. Do you know... Was my family doing okay? You know, after?” He seemed uncertain about even asking him. He scratched nervously at the back of his head continuing in a rush.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter, since it hasn’t happened now, I just… If you know. I wanted to know.”

Kazuya didn’t really know what to say. Sawamura was right. They were back in time, so technically how his family was doing after his death didn’t really matter anymore. But he also understood why Sawamura would want to know.

“It was two years, actually.” He offered. At Sawamura’s confused glance, he clarified. “The anniversary I was talking about? I did visit you after the first one too, but I got to this time after your second death anniversary, not the first. Your family was doing okay, then, I think. As well as they could be expected, from what I know. I didn’t have a lot of contact with them, so I can’t be really specific, but they were doing okay. Your mom sent me emails after my games sometimes.”

He shut his mouth with a click. Well, that was certainly one way to go about sharing what he knew, Kazuya considered, a bit embarrassed at his rambling. Sawamura was looking bemusedly at him.  Kazuya grimaced, uncomfortable at Sawamura’s scrutiny.

“Thanks for telling me!” He offered, grinning at Kazuya. He did look reassured. Then he scrunched his nose “It’s a bit weird that my mom sent you emails though!”

Kazuya chuckled at that.

“They weren’t frequent or anything. I’m pretty sure Chris also got them occasionally.”

Sawamura was frowning a bit. He huffed out a frustrated breath.

“If you say so. Still, it’s weird to think about it. I always wanted to introduce everyone at Seidō to my family, you know? I don’t like that it happened after I died!” He was actually pouting. Talking about his own death and pouting about it. Unbelievable.

“Well,” Kazuya offered “You’ll have a chance to do that this time. I’m even getting a head start on everyone else. Have you figured out what we’re going to tell your parents?”

Sawamura blinked at him, then started chuckling nervously as he avoided Kazuya’s gaze.

“Er. I don’t really have any big ideas? I mean” He continued frantically as Kazuya’s eyes narrowed at him “I’m not good at lying! So. I mean. It’d need to be something simple? Or like close to the truth, kind of? What did you tell your dad?”

Kazuya sighed at that, hoisting his duffle bag further up his shoulder. The sunflowers had been tucked into a side pocket so he wouldn’t need to carry them as well. It’d felt weird not to leave them at the grave, but since he’d technically bought them for Sawamura it wouldn’t have felt right to leave them there while the pitcher was alive and well next to him, either. Bringing them along was the only thing he could think of. Sawamura had thankfully not commented, though that was likely because he was distracted by their game of catch.

“I lied and told him there was a baseball camp. I was planning on just going back today and telling him I didn’t like it and leaving it at that, but I don’t think that’s going to help us.”

“It might!” Sawamura disagreed. “I mean, uh, my parents wouldn’t believe there was a baseball camp here, but maybe one in Nagano – you know the actual city. We could say you gave up on that and stopped by Fujimi for some reason! And then I found you and we played catch!”

Kazuya stared at him.

“If your mom insists on actually speaking with my dad that might be a better way to go… I don’t think I specified exactly where the camp was, just that it was a training camp for smaller regional schools in Nagano.”

Sawamura’s head bobbed in excitement.

“We could say they cancelled and forgot to let people outside Nagano know!”

Kazuya just shrugged. He didn’t honestly think they’d be able to come up with a very believable excuse anyways. It was probably better to stick with the lie he’d already told.

“It might be better if you let me do the talking about the camp and how I got here” He warned Sawamura “I’ll leave it to you to convince your parents to let me stay for a couple of days, but you’re right, you’re a terrible liar. Better to leave most of that part of it to me.”

“Sure thing, Cap!” Sawamura agreed with a mock salute.

All in all, Kazuya could not avoid the trepidation growing in his bones as they walked towards Sawamura’s family home. Even putting aside his own anxiety at meeting Sawamura’s family once again, given the circumstances of his first meeting with them in their original time, it wasn’t exactly like he was positioned for making a good impression on them this time around.

Really, what was Sawamura thinking? What parent would be totally okay with their son initiating a sleepover with a random kid they’d only just met? What would they think of Kazuya for even going along with it?

But Sawamura was way too excited now, so it’s not like Kazuya could backtrack his decision to try. He resigned himself to what would probably be a mortifying reintroduction to Sawamura’s parents and a swift return to Tokyo on the next train of the day.

“My parents will like you, you’ll see!” Sawamura was chattering at him “I mean, I’m pretty sure they liked you before, since my mom sent you emails and all, but it’s going to be great! And we can play catch and you can meet my friends!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sawamura.” Kazuya couldn’t help but caution him. “Let’s make sure your parents are okay with me staying first.”

“It’s fine! I’ve done it before!” Sawamura retorted, annoyed by Kazuya’s warning, apparently. “The first time I met Nobu was just after his family moved here, and we got to have a sleepover the same day! My mom just called his parents and it was fine! They won’t say no!”

Kazuya just sighed, unmoved by Sawamura’s certainty. They were running out of time to argue though. Already he could spot the house they’d stopped by earlier, when Sawamura went to pick up his glove.  Sawamura actually sped up at the sight, bounding up the stone path along the hedges at the side of the property like an overly excited puppy.

It was, objectively, a lovely house. It was built in the style of a postwar minka, without a thatched roof but with a dark wood and white plaster exterior, with two floors. Kazuya could not see a full engawa from the angle they were approaching at, but there was a sizeable balcony visible on the second floor.

He hadn’t noticed it previously because he hadn’t been this close to the entrance, but there was a large greenhouse like structure to the right of the house, though rather than glass and metal it seemed like it was made up of wire frames with a transparent kind of tarp stretched over them. He wondered if Sawamura’s family actively farmed their land – the house itself seemed pretty distant from any neighbors so Kazuya assumed the land surrounding it was entirely the Sawamuras’ property.

He didn’t have any longer to ponder the realities of the Sawamura family or to appreciate the house itself – Sawamura had made it to the entrance and immediately slammed the door open, shouting as he entered.

“MOM! I made a new friend! He’s going to stay with us for the next few days, okay!”

Kazuya boggled at that shameless declaration, rushing after his pitcher.

“What’s wrong with you! I thought you were going to ask your parents like a normal person!”

Sawamura was already taking his shoes off at the genkan, which was full of scattered shoes of different sizes and styles, but just as he turned to respond to Kazuya’s rather accusing admonition he was tackled by a blur.

“IS THAT HOW YOU SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER, YOU BRAT! Ask for permission properly! Your new friend’s got more sense than you do!”

Chapter Text

“IS THAT ANYWAY TO SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER YOU BRAT! Ask for permission properly! Your new friend’s got more sense than you do!”

So that was the grandfather, Kazuya thought dazedly, staring as the man dressed in a sage green samue hit Sawamura over the head, ignoring his grandson’s loud protestations. He definitely fit Sawamura’s stories much better than the shriveled old man Kazuya had seen at the funeral.

“You know any of your friends are welcome here at any time, Eijun! But you can’t just barge in and say it like that! What will your friend think of that!”

Oh. So that was how Sawamura’s mother was supposed to look. She was dressed in a cheery yellow floral dress, with a pink apron tied over it. She looked a lot like Sawamura. Much more than the shadow Kazuya had met after Sawamura had died.

She looked frazzled as she made her way to the genkan, throwing an exasperated look at the grandfather-grandson wrestling match happening about two feet away from where Kazuya was standing helplessly. She turned to Kazuya with a light smile.

“I’m sorry about that um..”

“That’s Miyuki Kazuya!” Sawamura called out, a bit strangled from where his grandfather had him in a chokehold. It was no wonder he got used to Kuramochi so easily once he got to Seidō. “He’s a catcher! He’s going to help me pitch!”

Sawamura’s mother looked surprised at that, but she turned back to Kazuya with an even broader smile. She really looked a lot like Sawamura.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Miyuki-kun! I hope Eijun didn’t bully you into anything just because he wanted to play baseball!”

“Oh, no.” Kazuya responded quickly. He felt extremely out of his depth right now. “We played catch for a while, and then he suggested I stay for a bit. I wasn’t really expecting…” He gestured helplessly at where Sawamura and his grandfather were still loudly arguing. “It’s nice to meet you Sawamura-san. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Haha, it’s no trouble! Where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking? I’m sure Eijun would have mentioned you before if you were from this area, since you play baseball and all!”

“Uh, Tokyo. I went to Nagano for a baseball training camp, but they cancelled.” Kazuya hoped he was making this believable. He was pretty confident in his ability to control his expression but this was a bit beyond anything he’d ever done before. “I was on my way back, but I got off the train in Fujimi since I didn’t want to go back home just yet. I ended up getting on the bus from the station since they mentioned there was a shrine in this area… I figured I might as well enjoy the day and check it out.”

Sawamura’s mother nodded at him still smiling.

“Oh, it is a beautiful day! And we’ve got apricot trees flowering all over, even though it’s a bit early for them. I’m guessing you met Eijun at the shrine?”

“Yes” Kazuya agreed, relieved that she seemed to believe the flimsy excuse. “He saw I had my mitt and asked to play catch.” He gestured with the mitt, grateful he was still carrying it instead of shoving it back in his bag.

Sawamura’s mother smiled at that, nodding eagerly.

“Well, I’m glad the two of you have got along so well! Eijun can be a bit much” she continued, ignoring Sawamura’s offended ‘Hey!’ from the corner “so I wanted to make sure he wasn’t pressuring you into anything.”

“Uh, no, not really. I don’t really have any other plans anyways. And playing with him is fun.” He added, a bit awkwardly. He was actually sweating a bit with nerves. But Sawamura’s mother fairly beamed at him once he said he’d enjoyed playing catch with Sawamura.

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like! As long as your parents are okay with it of course.”

Well. That was. About as easy as Sawamura said it would be, actually. His mother, at least, was as accommodating as Sawamura had insisted she’d be.

“There now, you little idiot! How about you thank your mother, hm?!?” Sawamura’s grandfather growled, dragging Sawamura by the back of his shirt towards his mother. Sawamura didn’t seem to mind the rough treatment, bouncing back upright and hugging his mom tightly, thanking her profusely.

Sawamura’s grandfather turned to Kazuya then, looking at him shrewdly.

“Miyuki Kazuya, hm? How old are you, boy?”

Kazuya quickly answered that he would be turning 16 in November.

“Oh, so you’ll be starting high school soon, then? Planning to keep playing baseball? It’s a tough world, high school baseball!”

“Ah, yes sir. I was scouted for a high school baseball team, so I’ll definitely keep playing.”

Sawamura’s mother seemed impressed at that, and even his grandfather’s eyebrows climbed up his brow before he nodded in approval.

“No need to call me sir, boy. Feel free to call me Gramps! It’s what all that brat’s friends call me anyway. Or Eitoku-san if you prefer. You sure you want to waste your time with him? He hasn’t been playing long, you know? And we haven’t got a coach in these parts.”

Sawamura puffed up in offense.

“You shitty gramps! I can still pitch! You’ll see! I’ll play with Miyuki and we’ll get to Kōshien!”

“You should call him Miyuki-senpai, you brat! He’s older than you are!” Sawamura’s grandfather retorted hotly, hitting Sawamura on the head again. “And as if! The only way you’d get to play with him is if you got into his big school in Tokyo!”

“I will! You’ll see!!”

“You haven’t got the brains to get in a Tokyo school!”

“He could get scouted. He wouldn’t need to test in then.” Kazuya interrupted, amused by the tennis match-like exchange between grandfather and grandson. Sawamura’s mother and Eitoku-san looked at him in surprise, while Sawamura grinned at him.

Eitoku-san burst into laughter.

“Well, that’s kind of you to say, Miyuki-kun. But Eijun’s never had a coach. No school worth their salt would take the trouble of scouting him. His best chance to play baseball properly is to test in.” He said, gravely. Sawamura looked annoyed at that, opening his mouth to retort.

“Not necessarily” Kazuya started, before Sawamura could derail the conversation. “I noticed when he was throwing to me earlier that his throws move around naturally – that’s pretty rare for Japanese baseball.” Noticing the astonished look on their faces he was quick to continue “I mean, there’s no guarantee! But I think if a school recruiter noticed they might bring him in just for that.”

Sawamura beamed at him. Of course, both of them knew that was exactly what had led Rei-chan to scout Sawamura for Seidō.

Eitoku-san looked at Sawamura with furrowed brows at that.

“Hnf. Would you listen to that?” He directed at Sawamura’s mother, amused. “He might have a chance after all.”

She laughed at him, clearly pleased by Kazuya’s defense of Sawamura’s chances of playing in high school.

“I’m glad to hear it! Now, how about we all sit down for lunch, and you can call your parents after, Miyuki-kun? That way if they’d rather you come back home, you’ll have at least eaten something before you have to go.”

“Sure, I can call my dad at any time.” Kazuya responded. Sawamura’s mother sent him a quick glance when he only mentioned his dad but smiled at him and started herding the three of them further inside the house once Kazuya had taken his own shoes off.

She led Kazuya and Sawamura down a hallway to a large room covered in tatami. A round table was set in the middle of the room, with an open entrance to the left that clearly led to the kitchen. Multi-colored zabuton were scattered around the table, with two zaisu set against one of the walls, by a wide nook in the wall – a traditional tokonoma - where an exquisite red kimono was hung. Kazuya remembered how Sawamura had mentioned his grandmother actually made kimono herself, and wondered whether it was one of her pieces.

A sliding fusuma wall partition opened to a different area of tatami to the right, though as it was only partially open Kazuya wasn’t sure what it would be used for. Another sliding door was open to a wide veranda facing the back of the house, allowing the spring breeze in.

A large orchard was situated at the back of the house, nearly half the trees clearly apricots in bloom. Kazuya wondered what the other trees were. Looking at the blossoms, he was suddenly reminded of the sunflowers he still had tucked partway in his bag.

“Oh, right! Um, here you go ma’am. I didn’t want to come by empty handed.” He said, offering them to Sawamura’s mother a bit awkwardly. He flushed at Sawamura’s side eyed glance at him, but the other boy thankfully didn’t say anything.

“Oh, these are lovely! That’s very kind of you Miyuki-kun.” Sawamura’s mother beamed at him, taking the flowers gently. “Feel free to call me Junko-san. You can drop off your bag at the corner there” she continued “while I get these in some water and bring the food in! Eijun, show Miyuki-kun where he can wash his hands, yes?”

Sawamura saluted his mom with a broad grin before dragging Kazuya with him to the washroom by the kitchen, barely giving him enough time to drop his duffle at the corner of the room. The washroom itself was quite normal – a frosted glass sliding door led to what was probably the bath, though since it was closed Kazuya couldn’t really see what it looked like. A separate door across the hallway clearly led to the toilet.

They made their way back to the tatami room without speaking, where Kazuya sunk into a zabuton next to Sawamura as soon as he could. The day was shaping up to be nothing like he expected, and he actually felt rather exhausted.

They suddenly heard the front door open, accompanied by a sing-song “Honey, I’m hooome” in English. It was funny how both Sawamura and his grandfather rolled their eyes at the same time. This would be Sawamura’s father then.

Kazuya could hear Sawamura’s parents exchange soft words in the kitchen. The man had clearly bypassed the room they were in and turned into the kitchen from the hallway. After a couple of minutes, he made his appearance at the passage from the kitchen into the room.

Unlike his appearance during the funeral, this man was very obviously the one featured in Sawamura’s photos – his dark brown hair was styled into the dramatic pompadour Kazuya had expected, facial hair trimmed into a goatee that reminded Kazuya of Jun-san. He had a bright orange sports jacket thrown over what was probably a white t-shirt, which he’d paired rather incongruously with dark tobi pants.

Catching sight of Kazuya at the table, he said over his shoulder to his wife “Oi, oi, what’s this? Are you trading me in for a younger and prettier model already?”

“Don’t be gross!” Sawamura yelped while Kazuya blinked, bewildered. “Miyuki Kazuya is my friend! He’s a catcher and he’s staying with us for a few days!”

Sawamura’s father laughed at his son’s outburst, letting his wife pass as she carried a tray filled with dishes.

“Eijun made friends with Miyuki-kun earlier today. If Miyuki-kun’s father allows it he’ll be staying with us for a little bit. It seems they had a good time playing baseball today.” She confirmed with a smile.

Kazuya noted she only mentioned his father this time. It seemed Junko-san was quite perceptive.

“Miyuki-kun, huh? Sawamura Eiji, nice to meet ya!” He offered, bending down for a solid handshake. “You sure you want to spend longer with this kid? He doesn’t come with a volume dial, you know?”

“You’re one to talk!” Sawamura yelled, slapping his father’s hand away. He was bristling and cat-eyed and was looking rather flushed. It seemed he was pretty embarrassed at having his dad tease him in front of Kazuya.

“It’s alright – I’ll be living in the school dorms in high school so I might as well get used to more noise.”

It was clear Sawamura’s family had not expected him to play along with their teasing. Eitoku-san and Eiji-san burst out laughing at his response, even while Sawamura flushed further crying out “Miyuki Kazuya! I’m not that loud!”

“Well, then,” Junko-san said, hiding her giggling behind a hand “Let’s go ahead and eat so we can ask your father if you’re allowed to stay for a little while.”

“Yes, yes, let’s!”  Eiji-san agreed, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Yes, yes. Tell us more about that high-school of yours” Eitoku-san concurred, passing around the rice bowls Junko-san had brought in from the kitchen while she arranged the other dishes over the table “How’s their baseball team? They’ve got to be decent to be scouting out students.” 

It was a natural beginning to a lighthearted conversation. For all of Kazuya’s trepidation before, Sawamura’s family had proven exactly as welcoming as Sawamura himself had claimed they’d be. Kazuya could feel himself calming surrounded by these people, who were so far from the versions of them he’d met before it was as though they were different people altogether.

Seeing the warmth the family shared and how happy they were just sharing the same space, Kazuya vowed to himself that it’d be different this time.  He would make sure it was different. Sawamura’s family would have no reason to mourn him this time around. Kazuya would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure, Kazuya?” His father’s voice sounded uncertain over the phone.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s not a training camp, but at least it should be fun. Sawamura-san has been very nice.” He tried to ignore the woman beaming at him from where she was drying the dishes next to Sawamura, who’d started washing with no complaints while insisting that Kazuya call his dad right after they were all done eating.

“Well… I suppose it would be more interesting for you than sitting at home for the rest of your break..” his dad said with a sigh, breath crackling over the line. “I’m a bit surprised, I guess. I don’t remember you ever asking even for a sleepover when you were younger… This boy must be something special for you to befriend him so quickly.”

Kazuya grimaced. His dad wasn’t exactly wrong. He himself couldn’t actually remember ever going to something like a sleepover. Rather, he just didn’t have the kind of friendships that went with that sort of thing at this time of his life. Even Mei, who could arguably be considered his closest thing to a childhood friend had never been someone he’d consider having a sleepover with. Their rivalry cum friendship was entirely based on the baseball field.

But there was also no way of explaining why he was suddenly so eager to stay with Sawamura without going into the whole time-travel thing.

“Do you suppose I could speak with Sawamura-san, then? I just want to speak with her and make sure they are really okay with this. Not that I don’t trust you, Kazuya, I’d just like to make sure.”  

“Yes, of course. Um, Junko-san, my dad wanted to speak with you?” Kazuya offered his phone to her, waiting until she’d finished drying the last bowl Sawamura had passed her.

She stepped out into the hallway to speak with his father with a gentle smile towards Kazuya. He took her place helping Sawamura with the dishes, drying them while the other boy washed them. Sawamura was humming under his breath, clearly extremely pleased that things were working out exactly as he’d told Kazuya they would.

“Your dad’s okay with you staying, right?” He asked as he passed Kazuya the final set of dishes and set about putting the dry things away. The kitchen was small enough they were still in pretty close proximity, so he could easily keep speaking to Kazuya even as he turned about to open cupboards and drawers to put things in their places.

“Seems so.” Kazuya agreed, passing Sawamura the last few items he’d just dried. It was a peculiarly domestic interaction that left him feeling remarkably wrong-footed, likely because of his dad’s reminder of how unfamiliar this kind of context was for him. Sawamura and him never had cause to interact like this in the dorms.

It was new. It was definitely strange to be back in time, and yet experiencing something so novel with the pitcher.

Junko-san came back in with his phone closed and a beaming smile.

“Well, Miyuki-kun! It looks like we have the go ahead to host you for the next couple of days. Your dad did request that you call him tomorrow as well, and I’d like you to give me his contact information so I can speak directly to him as needed.”

“Oh, yes, no problem. Thank you for having me, Junko-san.” Kazuya responded with a short bow, ignoring the silly fist-pump Sawamura did at the confirmation that Kazuya was allowed to stay.

Junko-san just smiled at them both and threw a critical look over the kitchen.

“Since you’ve helped finish tidying things here, why don’t you both help me put the guest futon out in the sun? It’d be good to air it out before you both go to sleep tonight.” She asked. “I hope you don’t mind sharing Eijun’s room, Miyuki-kun.”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Kazuya confirmed. Sharing a room with Sawamura, Kuramochi’s complaints notwithstanding, couldn’t be any worse than sharing with Azuma-senpai had been. Or would be. God, he’d forgotten reliving his first year at Seidō also meant reliving his time with that particular roommate.

The rest of the day passed in a bit of a rush. Kazuya had failed to realize that being introduced to Sawamura’s family and being hosted by them as a guest meant little time spent with only Sawamura for company. After helping Junko-san with the futon and the guest linens, there was helping Eiji-san dismantle the transparent tarps over the wire structures next to the house, which apparently protected vegetables from early spring frost.

With the weather warm enough, they would get rid of the plastic cover. After, Kazuya was treated to an impromptu tour of the Sawamura property, including the orchard – as he’d noted earlier, about half the trees were Japanese apricot trees, mume, from which apparently the family occasionally made their own umeboshi and umeshu. The other trees included several persimmon trees and the remaining ones were apparently apple trees.

Kazuya was also shown what was now being used as a storage shed for a wide variety of farm equipment, but that was actually the remnants of the original farmhouse built by Sawamura’s great-great-grandfather. The original sunken hearth was still present, as was the iron jizaikagi that would have suspended cooking pots over the central fire.

For a boy raised in Tokyo, who’d only seen these in history books and period dramas, it was actually very interesting to see them in real life, even if he wasn’t invested in Japanese history like Sawamura clearly was - the pitcher had given him a full run down of architectural development in rural Japan, complete with a very energetically gesticulated description of how exactly the old farmhouse was likely structured, all down to where the family’s matriarch would have sat and which would have been considered the place of honor for a guest – it was a lot of fairly useless information to Kazuya, but Sawamura was happy to share it and he supposed that made it okay.

He did tease him about his apparent encyclopedic knowledge about mostly useless things, though, much to Eiji-san’s amusement.

Shortly after, Kazuya was dragged down the back of the property to see the broad creek that ran out past the grounds. They had to go down what was frankly a seriously hazardous incline to get there, and Kazuya wondered if Sawamura’s absurd stamina was in part due to traipsing over this kind of terrain his whole life. Once they made it down, however, they were positioned at the bottom of a lovely dell, surrounded by early flowering plum blossom trees and tall grass.

Eitoku-san was fishing at the creek, though, according to Sawamura, he never caught anything. This declaration, offered in a loud whisper to Kazuya, resulted in Sawamura getting a small bucket of bait thrown at his head. The pitcher came out unharmed. Kazuya, on the other hand, considered himself traumatized at the sheer number of worms that had been upended in the event.

Just the thought of all their squiggling, squirming little worm bodies gave him goosebumps.

After that Eiji-san asked for their help in clearing the irrigation system they used to water the vegetables, which predictably resulted in both of them getting soaked after playing around with the hoses for too long. With the breeze, both Sawamura and Kazuya were soon shivering, and Junko-san ushered them both in for a warm bath. Daylight was already waning by then.

Kazuya got to bathe first, as a guest, and whiled away the time while Sawamura himself bathed by helping Junko-san get dinner ready, much to her delight. Sawamura, apparently, was more a hazard than anything else in the kitchen, so was usually relegated to washing the dishes.

“He can make simple things, like rice – as long as he has a rice cooker.” Junko-san had assured “But Eijun can be very clumsy, so the more he has to do the more things go wrong.”

Dinner itself was a relaxed affair. Because the spring breeze had turned quite cold as evening fell, the sliding doors to the veranda had been shut, but little else was different from the lighthearted lunch they’d shared earlier.

The conversation involved primarily suggestions from the three adults over things Kazuya and Sawamura could do the next day – Sawamura frequently derailed specific suggestions by remembering more and more places he wanted to take Kazuya to, not all of them in the surrounding area. All in all, Kazuya was fairly convinced he’d need an actual lifetime to do everything Sawamura wanted.

Dinner was followed by time spent in the family room, with the TV on, playing evening dramas. The room was actually the other half of the tatami covered room where the family took their meals, the one that was blocked by a half closed fusuma. It was, therefore, a mirror to that part of the room, down to the wide tokonoma at one side – this one housing another breathtaking kimono, though a deep forest green instead of red.

While Sawamura’s parents mostly watched the dramas playing on TV, Eitoku-san pulled out an old shogi board, and Kazuya was pulled into a game as soon as he confirmed he knew how to play. He was solidly trounced by the old man, resulting in significant teasing from Sawamura. It was no wonder the pitcher made such quick work of Tetsu-san when they played, if he was used to playing against an opponent like this.

Sawamura couldn’t tease for long – he himself was pushed into playing and lost just as soundly, to his grandfather’s cackling glee and his father’s taunting amusement.

It had been, objectively, a wonderful day. Perhaps too good a day.

The clear certainty that Sawamura and his presence in this time was a stable, permanent feature, so easily sustained in the wake of the pitcher’s enthused joy at sharing his childhood home and the family he loved so dearly with Kazuya seemed to wane now, in the dark, as he lay ensconced in the guest futon.

Not even the warmth, accompanied by the clean smell of washed and sun-bleached cotton, with the vague scent of the apricot trees outside that permeated Sawamura’s cozy bedroom on the second floor was enough to soothe the growing anxiety in Kazuya’s chest.

Objectively, Kazuya had no reason to believe that falling asleep here, in the futon by Sawamura’s bed, would yield any different result than the past couple of nights he’d passed falling asleep in his childhood bedroom and waking up with no further changes in time. So he’d tried to bury the fear and anxiety brewing and go to sleep once Junko-san had ushered them both upstairs, but it was to no avail.

Sawamura’s presence, so constant throughout the day, seemed to fade as they both laid down to sleep, and now Kazuya longed for some sound to come from the bed next to his futon, some sign, any sign of Sawamura’s continued presence. He couldn’t even hear the other boy’s breathing, though that could just be due to how hard his own heart was beating, the blood rush in his ears stopping him from hearing Sawamura’s soft breaths slightly above him.

He was still breathing, wasn’t he?

‘Don’t be stupid, Kazuya’ he berated himself, trying to calm down. ‘Of course he is. He’s just quieter when he’s asleep than you thought he was. That’s it.’

It was stupid. It was. Sawamura was perfectly fine.

But Kazuya couldn’t hear him.

Surely… Surely there was no harm in checking? As long as he didn’t wake Sawamura it should be fine right?

He sat up, heart thundering, and scuttled closer to Sawamura’s bed. It was too dark to see much of anything, but that didn’t matter. As soon as Kazuya closed the gap towards the bed, Sawamura rolled over to look at him.

Kazuya could barely make out his face, but he was clearly awake, looking at him.

“Sorry.” Kazuya whispered, chagrined. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I was already awake. What’s wrong Miyuki?” Sawamura sounded concerned.

“Your breathing is too quiet.” It was blurted out, the admission falling from his lips before he really thought about it. There was silence.

“Usually, you complain about me being too loud.”

Kazuya was glad it was so dark. Hopefully it meant Sawamura couldn’t see him flush in embarrassment. He knew it was a silly worry, he did. But…

“I just… I had to check” he admitted, miserably, feeling the back of his neck heat in mortification. “I had to make sure. I know it’s stupid, but I had to.”

Sawamura didn’t respond immediately. It was hard to tell, in the darkness, but Kazuya was pretty sure he was staring at him. He heard the whispery sound of the bedsheets shifting as Sawamura moved, but was still startled when Sawamura firmly grasped his shoulder and pulled him into the bed with him.

It was an awkward movement, with Kazuya not having expected it. He more or less smashed his nose into Sawamura’s shoulder. Thankfully, he’d already removed his glasses. Before he could get his bearings, Sawamura had quickly maneuvered him to lay down next to him, pressing Kazuya’s head to his chest firmly.

“There! It’s easier to make sure like this right?”

Kazuya was so taken aback by the motion that he wasn’t entirely sure at first what Sawamura was talking about. But then, he realized – with his head pressed to Sawamura’s chest, he could clearly hear the other boy’s heartbeat.

It was a dull thumping, a bit faster than Kazuya would have expected, though that was probably because of the exertion needed to pull him onto the bed.

Kazuya inhaled shakily. Sawamura smelled of citrus and clean cotton. He felt his own heartbeat calm as he tracked the beating of the other boy’s heart.

“I missed you.” He confessed, voice choked with emotion. “I really fucking missed you, Sawamura.”

Sawamura tightened his hold on him.

“I’m really glad you’re here with me, Miyuki Kazuya.” He responded, his own voice wobbling. “So you don’t have to worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

Kazuya didn’t bother replying. He felt like he could finally fall asleep here, like this, pressed against Sawamura’s warmth with the clear evidence of his wellbeing thudding steadily under his head.

Chapter Text

Kazuya felt drowsy as he listened to Sawamura’s steady heartbeat. The anxiety that had plagued him had drained nearly in full, leaving him weary and sleepy where he lay next to Sawamura.

“Say, Miyuki-senpai” Sawamura suddenly started whispering, breaking the silence “were those sunflowers you had with you for me?”

Kazuya blinked, trying to get a little more awake. He hummed before whispering back.

“Yeah. I took them each time I went to visit you, after you died. I bought them without thinking this time around. I know your family usually brought you lilies, but at least your mom liked them.”

He felt Sawamura nod, apparently satisfied with the answer. He shut his eyes, expecting that to be it.

“You said it was two years after. When you ended up in this time, I mean.”

“Hm?” Kazuya grunted, sleepily. “Yeah. Why?”

“Did you go to a pro team like you said you would?”

“Hhhmf, yeah, I joined the Swallows.” Kazuya responded. Then he actually thought about Sawamura’s question and popped his head up in surprise. “When did I say I was going to join a pro team? I don’t remember talking about it with you.”

“Ah.” Kazuya couldn’t see him clearly, but he could swear Sawamura was embarrassed. “You didn’t. I ended up overhearing you talking about it with Furuya. You said you wanted to go to the pros because of your dad, or something like that.”

Kazuya thought about that. He did vaguely remember sharing that tidbit with their power pitcher in an attempt to motivate the former ace to see beyond losing the position to Sawamura. He was a bit surprised Sawamura remembered a half-heard conversation that clearly though. He wondered if he should comment on it.

“That means you played for two years on a professional team before coming back to this time then.” Sawamura sounded upset. “Just when I thought I’d gotten closer to reaching you it turns out you’re farther away.”

That… didn’t sound right?

“What are you saying?” He asked, frowning. “I’m right here, aren’t I? What do you mean, reaching me?”

“Never mind! Don’t worry about it!” Sawamura rushed to backtrack. “I’m just being silly.”

“No, tell me. What did you mean?”

Sawamura was quiet for several minutes, seemingly debating whether to actually explain.

“Miyuki-senpai, do you remember when we met?” Kazuya prepared to answer in the affirmative, but it was apparently a rhetorical question. Sawamura continued. “You were the first person to ever call me partner, you know?”

Kazuya could feel heat rising up from where Sawamura was pressed close. It was clear that the boy was very embarrassed but continued sharing anyway.

“I’d never had a catcher that could actually catch my pitches. I can still remember the sound of my pitches hitting your mitt that day.”

Kazuya swallowed, taken aback by the emotion in Sawamura’s voice.

“Then, it turned out that you were an amazing player. Much better than me. And I hated that. Because I wanted to play on the same level as you. I wanted to be good enough to actually be worthy of being your partner.”

Sawamura let out a heavy sigh.

“I thought I was finally on the right track, you see? Since I was going to be the ace at Kōshien and all… But then I guess I died.” He actually sounded bitter this time. “And now you’re just further away.”

“Sawamura, you really are an idiot.” Kazuya ignored the indignant squawk the blunt statement earned him.

“I’m going to tell you something now and I need you to not be cocky about it.” He continued. “If anyone asked me this in our original time at Seidō, I’d never have admitted it in a million years, but after you died, I regretted not telling you. So here it goes.”

Kazuya took a steadying breath.

“You, Sawamura, are my favorite pitcher to work with. Hands down. No contest. Yeah, you actually kind of sucked when you first came to Seidō, but playing with you was always the most fun for me, even then. So forget any bullshit you have in your head about being ‘worthy’ of being my partner, alright?”

Kazuya fought against his own embarrassment as he continued.

“Besides we’re back in time now. We already saw that we’ll both have to get way better to get to the level either of us were at when it comes to baseball. Stop worrying about it, idiot.”

Sawamura was silent, apparently completely bewildered by Kazuya’s admission.

“Um. Miyuki. I appreciate you’re trying to make me feel better, but you don’t have to lie you know? There’s no way I am your favorite pitcher… I mean… Furuya-”

“I’m not lying.” Kazuya interrupted, curling over Sawamura and pressing his forehead to the pitcher’s shoulder. “I’m not.” He tightened his hold on the other boy.

“Believe me, will you? I never spent my break helping Furuya with his pitching, alright? I had to catch more often for him because I was the captain and the starting catcher and Furuya was supposed to be the ace. It had nothing to do with me liking him better.”

Sawamura was very still under him, taking the time to process. Then he abruptly pulled Kazuya down into a very tight hug.

“Okay. I’ll believe you.” Wow, was Sawamura crying? A wet sniffle confirmed Kazuya’s suspicions.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, worried. “Come on, I don’t think what I said was that terrible; Hey, Sawamura - ”

“Shut up!” Sawamura mumbled, voice wet. “I’m just… I’m just happy okay! You’re… You’re the best catcher, Miyuki Kazuya!” He sniffled again. “Even though your personality sucks.”

“Wow, that’s mean. And I thought we were having a bonding moment.” Kazuya teased, relieved, pinching at Sawamura’s side.

“You’re so annoying.” Sawamura warbled. He huffed out a long breath, before saying “I went to Seidō because of you, you know? So. So I’m just happy that it wasn’t just me wanting to play together.”

Kazuya sucked in a breath through his teeth. It was… It wasn’t unexpected, really. But hearing Sawamura confirm it, that he wouldn’t have gone to Seidō if Kazuya hadn’t been there that day was… It was really something else.

“Your mom told me. I didn’t really know if it was true though.”

Sawamura wriggled under him with a confused grunt.

“My mom? When? During the funeral?” He huffed with some annoyance, rubbing his hands over his eyes. “I can’t believe she’d say that! That’s so embarrassing!”

Kazuya smirked against Sawamura’s shoulder, closing his eyes again.

“Not during the funeral. It was a few months after, when it was announced I was going to be playing for the Swallows.”

The email hadn’t really been a surprise. He’d known it was coming, since Rei-chan asked whether it’d be okay to share his address with Sawamura’s mother. He’d not been sure why she’d want to speak to him, specifically, but he had not had the heart to refuse it.

The image of Sawamura’s family, so broken during the funeral, haunted him almost as much as Sawamura himself. If he could offer her anything, even if it were just some sort of closure, surely, it’d be the right thing to do.

That didn’t change the fact that his stomach had been turning into knots since receiving the emailed invitation to join her at a café a few blocks away from Seidō. He’d spent days turning the request over in his mind, trying to determine why Sawamura’s mother would be so eager to speak to him. Now, sitting in one of the small tables of the neat little café, he was none the wiser about the woman’s intentions, glancing up every time the café’s door opened to check for her arrival.

It didn’t take long. Sawamura’s mother looked even more tired than she had at the funeral, with dark circles under her eyes, and sunken cheeks. She’d lost a significant amount of weight since then. He waved a bit awkwardly at her once he saw her come in, standing to greet her politely.

She’d offered a weak smile and returned his greeting, placing her things at the corner of the table before they both ordered. A matcha drink for her, a simple black coffee for Kazuya.

The conversation started a bit stilted, awkward. Sawamura’s mother asked Kazuya about his future with the Swallows, but the talk died down very quickly between Kazuya’s clear discomfort and Sawamura-san’s vaguely disguised disinterest in the topic. Soon, they were both sitting in silence, holding onto their drinks.

After a quiet sip, she finally sighed and started, haltingly.

“Miyuki-kun. I’m sure you’ve been asking yourself why I asked to meet with you. I must admit it’s a bit of a selfish reason, but I hope you won’t mind.” She took a fortifying breath. “How much do you remember of the first time you met Eijun?”

Kazuya blinked at her for a second, taken aback. He turned away from her as he answered.

“I remember it pretty well. He challenged one of the seniors and we struck him out in front of a lot of the team.”

Sawamura’s mother nodded. She wasn’t looking at Kazuya, but at her drink, thumb smoothing the side of the porcelain cup in a self-soothing gesture.

“Yes. I’m not sure you realize how much of an impact you had on him then. He realized straight away that you loved baseball as much as he did I think, but I think you were the first person who made him realize there could be more to baseball for him than what he had in Nagano.” She let out a wet little laugh. “He had no intention of going to Seidō before he met you, did you know? His father and I had to push him to accept Takashima-san’s offer of showing him the school, and by then he was pretty adamant he wouldn’t go.”

She shook her head ruefully, and Kazuya was uncomfortably aware of the fact that she had tears pooling in her eyes.

“After he came back, it was very different. It was clear he was actually thinking seriously about going. He even bought a baseball magazine. I’m pretty sure he only bought it because it had an article that featured you. He wanted to understand what baseball meant to you, I think. You really changed his perspective.”

Kazuya swallowed. It felt as though his heart was in his throat.

“I had no idea.” He admitted. His voice was hoarse. “He never said anything about it. I knew he wanted to play with me, since he was always asking me to catch for him, but…”

Sawamura’s mother smiled at him, though it was stretched thin. It was as though she’d forgotten how to smile properly.

“Yes, well. That’s why I wanted to speak with you. You meant a lot to Eijun. Even when he visited us over break, he talked a lot about you.” She started rummaging through one of the bags she’d brought. It was an inoffensive medium sized paper bag, and she removed a bundle wrapped in newsprint from it.

“Like I mentioned, you meant a lot to Eijun. Especially how you play – he really admired you, you see? So. And I know this is a very selfish request, but I was wondering… And of course, please feel free to say no. But. I’d like to know if you could keep this?”

As she’d spoken, Sawamura’s mother had shakily unwrapped the newsprint bundle, revealing a baseball glove.

Not just any glove. Sawamura’s black right-hand glove. The one he’d used during his time at Seidō.

Kazuya stared at it. Speechless.

“Kataoka-san made sure we got it back along with all of Eijun’s belongings. But. I’d feel better if it were with someone who actually enjoys baseball, as much as Eijun did. Since he admired you so much, and since you’re going to play professionally, I thought you’d be the best person to ask. And even if you said no, there’d be no harm in asking. I know you’d take good care of it.”

“Sawamura-san.” Kazuya began, shakily, eyes fixed on the glove. “I’m… I’m honored, really, that you’d ask me to take care of this. But. I’m a catcher. I wouldn’t be able to use this.”

“I know that.” She said, looking pleadingly at him. “I’m not asking you to use it. I’m just hoping you’ll take care of it… Keep Eijun’s memory alive as you play. I’m sorry, I know it’s an unreasonable request.”

Kazuya slowly reached for the glove. It was strange, he thought. To handle this knowing Sawamura wasn’t just around the corner, asking him to catch. He felt sick.

He bowed to Sawamura’s mother, drawing the glove closer to himself. His eyes were stinging, but he forced his voice to be steady as he responded.

“Thank you, Sawamura-san. I swear I’ll take good care of it.”

“She gave you my glove?” Sawamura sounded bewildered.

“Yeah.” Kazuya breathed, tucking himself closer. The weariness from earlier had returned and he felt drowsy and warm. He was pretty sure he’d fall asleep pretty easily now.

“She shouldn’t have done that.”

That woke him up some. He felt strangely hurt.

“What, you don’t think I’d take care of it?” He asked, not bothering to hide the upset in his tone.

Sawamura tugged sharply on his hair.

“That’s not it. It’s just. It’s heavy, isn’t it? Having to carry someone’s memory like that?” He sounded a bit upset. “That wasn’t fair to you.”

That was… Not something Kazuya had thought at all.

“I didn’t think of it like that.” Kazuya said, thoughtfully. “I was pretty moved, you know. That your mom trusted me enough to ask me to do that. I was happy too. It was like getting a last piece of you to keep, even though you were gone. It didn’t fix the fact that you died. But it helped me a little.”

He relaxed back onto Sawamura, pressing his ear against his shoulder so he could hear the pitcher’s heartbeat clearly just a bit lower. He closed his eyes again, hoping they were done talking. For all that it was probably a good thing he was talking with Sawamura, he really was tired.

“If you say so.” Sawamura answered, undercut by a yawn. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

Kazuya let out a slow breath, focusing on Sawamura’s heart beating steadily under him.

“Yeah. Thanks Sawamura. Like I said, don’t worry too much. We can figure things out together this time around.”

“Okay, Cap. I’ll be relying on you.”

“Hmf. Goodnight, Bakamura.”

“Goodnight, Miyuki Kazuya.”

Chapter Text

Miyuki Kazuya woke to an odd rustling sound. He blinked groggily, and nearly panicked at seeing himself somewhere that was not his bedroom at his father’s house. That was, of course, when Sawamura, with uncharacteristically impeccable timing, grunted out a muffled “Where is it?” and Kazuya realized exactly where he was. 

He shifted on the bed, realizing that he’d actually spent the whole night sharing with Sawamura, rather than moving back to the guest futon. He’d probably be more embarrassed at essentially cuddling the other boy to sleep if it hadn’t been so comforting to have his presence, solid and warm, reminding him throughout the night that the last day had not been a figment of his imagination. 

He rubbed his eyes, squinting in the direction of the alarm clock at Sawamura’s bedside. He didn’t have his glasses, but he was pretty sure the red numbers facing him said 4:38 AM. Why the hell was Sawamura up this early? 

He turned in the direction of the muffled rustling. Sawamura was next to the drawers on the other side of the room, triumphantly holding up what looked in Kazuya’s blurry vision like a grey pair of sweatpants. The other boy was apparently oblivious at having woken his catcher and started pulling on the sweats without looking at the bed. 

“You’re not actually going running this early, are you?” Kazuya asked, incredulously, voice dark with sleep. 

Sawamura startled badly at his voice. He also hadn’t finished pulling the sweats on, so he promptly overbalanced and fell with a dull thud that had Kazuya wincing in sympathy. 

“You’re awake!” Sawamura whispered “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up. And yeah! I’ve got to get started! I’ve only got one year before I go to Seidō!” 

“It’s four AM” Kazuya said blankly. “You really don’t need to rush this much.” 

Sawamura had approached, probably so he could hear Kazuya better as they whispered. There were no sounds that Kazuya could discern outside of Sawamura’s small room, so his earlier fall probably hadn’t woken anybody. 

“It’s a bit earlier than I usually went running at Seidō” Sawamura admitted. “But I woke up and I couldn't go back to sleep so I figured it’d be better to just go for it!” He nodded determinedly at Kazuya. 

“Right…” Kazuya grunted, laying back down and scrubbing at his eyes some more. “Why couldn’t you go back to sleep?” 

“I’m too excited!” Sawamura blurted out, probably louder than he meant to, since when he started speaking again he was clearly putting effort into being as quiet as possible. 

“We’re going to play today! I’m going to introduce my team from Nagano to you! I can show you where I played baseball before going to Seidō! I’m just… I’m just really looking forward to it alright?”

 
He did seem to be practically vibrating with excitement. Kazuya sighed. His eyelids were heavy. The previous nights of little sleep were catching up to him.

 
“You can go back to sleep” Sawamura said, clearly noticing what a struggle it was for the catcher to stay awake. “I know it’s too early. We went to sleep late last night, too.”

 
Kazuya didn’t really need any additional prompting. Turning back to the pillows he mumbled “Wake me up when you get back” and went back to sleep. 

He still didn’t go back to the guest futon. 

Kazuya woke again at what sounded like a door closing. He blinked groggily before twisting to check the time on the alarm clock at Sawamura’s bedside. 6:33. It probably wasn’t worth it to go back to sleep. And he had had a pretty decent night’s sleep all things considered. 

Sawamura apparently hadn’t woken him up – that is, if he wasn’t still out. If he was, Kazuya would have to scold him. There was no point in running for nearly two hours straight, really. 

He decided to get up, stretching languidly before making his way to the guest futon he’d started the night in. His glasses were tucked at the corner, just as he’d left them. Putting them on, he could actually see the mess Sawamura had made looking for his sweatpants earlier, even with just the faint light passing through the half-closed blinds. 

He quietly made his way downstairs, heading towards the kitchen. He was sure that there was at least one more person awake, given he’d heard a door close. Maybe that was Sawamura, maybe not. He might as well check and get a glass of water. 

He slowly ambled down the still darkened hallway, suppressing a yawn. The kitchen’s light was on, but apparently so was the washroom’s. As he got closer, he heard the sound of water rushing through the pipes. That was probably Sawamura taking a shower after his run then. He continued walking towards the kitchen, his thoughts now on whether the Sawamuras drank coffee in the mornings. He might as well take advantage of the early hour and get breakfast started for Junko-san. He was sure she wouldn’t mind his using her kitchen. 

It turned out he wouldn’t need to worry about using the kitchen without asking her. Junko-san herself was standing in the kitchen when he turned into the room from the hallway. She startled once she noticed him. 

“Miyuki-kun! Good morning!” Her hair was completely disheveled and she was still wearing a set of pink pajamas, though she’d also apparently thrown on a bright purple polka dotted hanten jacket. It made sense. It was early spring and at this hour the house was surprisingly cold. Kazuya could feel goosebumps on his arms from the chill. 

“It’s very early, I was expecting you to sleep a bit longer. You looked so tired yesterday. Did Eijun wake you?” She asked worriedly. 

“Good morning Junko-san. He did wake me before he left for a run, but I went back to sleep. I thought I heard a door closing, but I’m pretty sure I’d have woken up soon anyways. Is he taking a shower now?” 

Junko-san let out a little frustrated huff of breath as she shook her head. 

“That boy! Yes, I asked him to take a shower. Honestly, running at that hour!” She sent a wry smile his way. “You must have really inspired him to take baseball more seriously, Miyuki-kun. Eijun certainly never went running early in the morning before.” 

Kazuya flushed. It was… odd, to him, hearing something so similar to what Sawamura’s mother had told him in his original time. The context was very different, of course, but the words sent a frisson of emotion through him all the same. 

“I don’t think I did much…” He hedged, a bit uncomfortable. “Do you need any help with breakfast, Junko-san?” He continued, in what was likely a very transparent attempt to switch topics. 
She looked amused at him, but thankfully didn’t press. 

“As a matter of fact, I would appreciate some help. How would you like to start the rice for me? I’ll be making some miso soup, and I think we can get some tamagoyaki done between the two of us.” 

They started working in tandem quite well. Junko-san would direct Kazuya to where he could find anything he needed to get breakfast together. Junko-san also got coffee started, though she was a bit surprised when Kazuya asked for some.

 
Sawamura hadn’t drunk coffee at Seidō, so Kazuya wasn’t surprised to hear he didn’t drink it at all. Apparently, none of his friends did, though Junko-san and Eiji-san were both regular coffee drinkers. 

“I like iced americanos” Junko-san confirmed cheerily “especially in the summer. Eijun can only drink coffee with a lot of milk and sugar, though.”

What was slightly more surprising was that Sawamura took after Eitoku-san and opted for tea in the mornings. He couldn’t actually recall whether that had been a habit the pitcher sustained at Seidō, but, according to Junko-san, at least, he’d always drunk tea with his grandparents in the mornings. 

It seemed Sawamura’s grandfather influenced him in more ways than baseball. It was interesting to get this inside look to the influences that had shaped Sawamura into who he was, and Kazuya was actually quite pleased with the opportunity to learn more about the pitcher. 

“Eijun can actually be quite old fashioned at times” Junko-san told him as they set the table “He grew up with his grandparents for the most part, so he adopted their tastes on a lot of things.” 

“Did you and Eiji-san not live with him?” Kazuya asked, a bit confused.

“Oh, no, we all lived here. But Eiji and I both work – he is a music teacher in the elementary school in Sakai. I do some administrative work at the community center in Hara. Since we both work full time and have a bit of a commute, Eijun spent most of his time with his grandparents.” She clarified. 

“He mentioned Eitoku-san was the one who taught him to play.” 

Junko-san laughed at that. 

“Well, that might be an exaggeration. He never really played himself. He and Eijun mostly played catch. I know he and Shoko-san tried to teach him the rules when they watched the games on TV, but Eijun’s never had the patience for it. He’d rather be outside playing.”

“Shoko-san… Is that Sawamura’s grandmother?” 

“Oh, yes! Eiji’s mother. She was wonderful. She passed five years ago – it was why Eijun was at the shrine when you met.”

Kazuya nodded. 

“He mentioned her. He said she was a seamstress who designed and made kimono; Are the two on the wall her work?” 

Junko-san seemed delighted he’d noticed them. 

“Yes! They’re beautiful, aren’t they? We have quite a few of her pieces in storage, though most of her work was sold. Let me see…”

 
She made her way to the family room, towards the TV console. It was a low but bulky piece of furniture, with a set of four heavy drawers. Kazuya followed her as she knelt down by it and opened one of them, pulling out what was clearly an old photo album from it. There were others in the drawer as well. Someone in the family was clearly fond of printing out pictures and organizing the photos into nice little collections. 

“Oh, here we are! This is Shoko-san, and Eijun when he was little.” 

The first picture on the album, the one Junko-san was pointing out, was objectively adorable. Sawamura Shoko, the one apparently responsible for bringing Kazuya to the past was dressed elegantly in a familiar dark blue kimono, but the poise and quiet distinction that had so characterized her ghost to Kazuya seemed entirely absent in the photo. 

This was likely due to the fact that, in it, she was smiling broadly, preoccupied with tickling what was clearly a very young Sawamura. He couldn’t be more than two in the photo – a round, chubby-cheeked toddler that was shrieking with laughter in his grandmother’s lap. 

Baby pictures. Kazuya’s second day with Sawamura’s family and he was getting shown the baby pictures. Sawamura would probably be embarrassed. He’d have to tease him about these after. 
Junko-san flipped a bit through the pages, explaining the context of some of the photos to Kazuya. 

Most photos featured Sawamura and one or both his grandparents. A few featured other toddlers of a similar age – including, apparently, a very young Aotsuki Wakana, and a cousin of Sawamura’s. 

Sawamura had been a cute toddler – all round cheeks and smiles and the sunny disposition he’d apparently carried through to high school. It was very sweet to see him with his grandparents throughout the album, even as it was difficult to miss how his grandmother seemed to grow thinner and more tired as the album progressed. 

Junko-san finally stopped at a large picture that took up a whole page – It was Sawamura, holding hands with his grandmother, both next to what looked like a whole field of white lilies. Neither of them were looking at the camera, Shoko-san holding onto little Sawamura’s hand as she pointed out the flowers to him. 

“There you are! I thought you were still sleeping!” 

Both Kazuya and Junko-san turned at Sawamura’s voice. His hair was still damp, but he’d clearly toweled it roughly dry after taking a shower. He then noticed what they were doing, and predictably, flushed bright red. 

“Are those my baby photos?!? Don’t look at those Miyuki Kazuya!”

“Don’t be silly, Eijun” Junko-san scolded, even as Kazuya smirked and prepared to tease the other boy over the – admittedly adorable – plethora of baby pictures he’d already seen. “I just wanted to show Miyuki-kun Shoko-san.”

Sawamura looked surprised at that, coming closer to examine the photograph they’d been looking at, and Kazuya swallowed his teasing remark. Sawamura was frowning at the picture. 
“Hey mom. Why do we always put white lilies on the family grave? I mean, I know they were her favorite flower, but why all the time?”

Oh. Sawamura was probably wondering why his parents had brought him lilies after his own death, in their original time, but couldn’t really ask them that… Was Kazuya supposed to be here for this conversation? This seemed like a family thing.   

“Oh.” Junko-san seemed a bit surprised by the question. “Well, it was something your grandmother liked saying.” 

“She got sick – breast cancer” she explained, turning to Kazuya with a sad smile “about when you were two” this she directed to Sawamura, who was still frowning at the photo. “She got better the first time around, but it was still a hard time for all of us. The thing about the lilies was her way to deal with it I think…” 

She turned back some of the pages of the album until she got to one photo Kazuya had found quite funny. It featured what he assumed was Eitoku-san on his knees with a massive bouquet of white lilies, which he was presenting to a laughing Shoko-san – the bouquet was so large it obscured his face. A younger Eiji-san, with long hair tied back was folded over, laughing at his parents. Sawamura didn’t feature at all in this one. 

“Any time Eiji or Eitoku-san did something that annoyed her, she’d tell them they owed her however many white lilies when she was dead. One time, Eitoku-san accidentally ruined the flower bed she’d wanted to plant that year, and she told him he’d need to bring her at least one hundred lilies when she died to make up for it.”
She smiled sadly at the photo. 

“She’d always put it like that: ‘When I’m dead you’d better bring me at least ten lilies to make up for this mess!’ or ‘You owe me twenty, minimum, for this! I’d better see my grave covered in them from heaven, I swear!’ It was mostly a joking thing to her, I think… A way for her to deal with her own potential death when she got sick…  I know Eiji didn’t always like hearing her say things like that.” 

Sawamura was still frowning. 

“I don’t remember her saying that at all! I definitely would remember, I wasn’t that young when she died.” 

That was true. Sawamura would turn fifteen soon, if his grandmother died when he was nine, nearly ten, he’d probably remember this kind of comment.

 
“This was around when she first got sick, Eijun. She beat it originally and she was cancer free for several years. It came back later on, when you were about eight. She stopped saying it by then.”

 
“Why?” Sawamura looked confused, and a bit upset. “If it was her way to deal with it it doesn’t make sense that she stopped saying it when she got sicker.” 

Junko-san sighed. 

“It was a silly thing, really. You were really young at the time. You may not know this, but little kids sometimes latch onto the oddest things people say and repeat things without really knowing what they’re saying.”

Realization dawned on Kazuya even as Junko-san continued. She turned the album back to the first page, the one with a giggling Sawamura being tickled by his grandmother. 

“She made that kind of comment, about the lilies – I think it was something like ‘Oh, you better bring me a whole bunch of white lilies when I’m dead!’ or something like that… Like I said, she was mostly joking… but you latched onto that and you repeated it.” 

Seeing Sawamura’s frown, she gently reminded him; 

“You were very young. You had no idea what it meant, what you were saying. But. Well, it really upset her, hearing you say it. It’s very upsetting, to hear a little child talking about their own death. She never said it again after that.” 

Kazuya could picture that. What was a throw away comment, an inside joke within the family, being repeated guilelessly by a too young Sawamura. And that same family, years later, remembering it after his death and choosing to honor that memory in the choice of flowers they placed at the family grave on his death anniversary. 

Sawamura clearly could too. He was frowning deeply at the page. 

“Well.” He said, voice choked with emotion. “If I die, please bring sunflowers for me instead, okay?” 

Junko-san looked stricken at that, but Sawamura was already walking off, ignoring her shocked call. Kazuya could only rush after him, heart in his throat. 

Chapter Text

Kazuya managed to follow Sawamura as he strode off, out of the house and into the orchard, finally crouching down by one of the apricot trees, hands pressed over his eyes. He stood quietly by the pitcher, unsure what to say.

He wasn’t sure if Sawamura was crying, or just upset and unsure how to deal with his emotions. He could see Junko-san worriedly staring out at them from the veranda, clearly unsure whether she should make her way to them or wait for Kazuya to handle things.

“Are you okay?” he asked the pitcher, after a long moment. He wondered what, precisely, had set Sawamura off – even as he considered that maybe, for all his nonchalance so far, Sawamura’s death had affected the pitcher more than he was willing to admit.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Sawamura’s voice sounded muffled from where he had his hands pressed to his face.

“Which is it?” Kazuya tried to tease. His heart was thundering in his chest, tightness gripping at his throat even as he tried to keep himself calm. He wasn't sure he should show Sawamura how worried he really was.

Sawamura didn’t respond.

“I think your mom is worried” He tried pressing. Junko-san was indeed still looking at them from the door, though Eiji-san had apparently joined her. He was turned towards his wife, likely asking her what was going on. He looked like he still had pajama pants on, which brought home to Kazuya just how early it was. It felt like hours had passed since he woke up to find Junko-san in the kitchen, but it really couldn’t have been more than an hour – it probably wasn’t even close to eight in the morning yet.

Sawamura let out a harsh, shaky breath.

“I don’t like it.” He declared finally; voice wet.

“Worrying your mom?” Kazuya asked, crouching next to the other boy. He stretched his hand to ruffle Sawamura’s hair. It was very soft. 

“No… I don’t like any of it. I didn’t even remember that stupid thing with the lilies and they still… they still…”

Kazuya stayed silent, petting Sawamura’s hair gently. He wasn’t sure what about the situation upset him quite so much. The realization of the depth of his family’s grief, the reminder of his grandmother’s death, or something that took all that and more into account.

“Why sunflowers?” He asked finally.

Sawamura finally lifted his head, wiping his eyes roughly.

“What do you mean? They’re my favorite. Didn’t you know? You got them for me.”

Kazuya was a bit surprised.

“I didn’t. They just reminded me of you.”

“Oh.”

Kazuya glanced back to where Sawamura’s parents were. He assumed Junko-san had explained the situation, but both she and Eiji-san were still standing by the door, looking out at them. He wasn’t sure what to do. Sawamura’s reaction, while more or less understandable in the context of the pitcher’s death in their precious time, was probably extremely concerning and unexpected to Sawamura’s family.

“Are you going to be okay to go back inside and have breakfast? Or do you want to stay out here a bit longer?” He asked, voice laden with concern.

Sawamura sighed and stood back up. His eyes were red and teary and there was still an unhappy slant to his mouth. Gone was all the enthusiasm for the day that had got him out of bed before sunrise. Kazuya hoped he’d bounce back – an excited Sawamura, no matter how loud and overenthusiastic, was infinitely preferable to an upset one.

“Let’s go in.” The pitcher mumbled. “I should apologize to my mom.” His stomach rumbled. “And I’m hungry.”

Well. That was that, apparently. Uncertain, and admittedly unhappy at how unwilling Sawamura was to talk, Kazuya wasn’t sure if he should press the pitcher in this situation. Maybe it’d be best to let the pitcher decide when he wanted to talk.

Sawamura was still a bit off, to Kazuya, by the time they finished breakfast. He had apologized to Junko-san, though she’d dismissed the apology with a tight hug and a quiet request for him to never say that sort of thing again.

“If something did happen to you” she’d said “the last thing I’d be thinking about is what flowers to bring.”

Kazuya had felt supremely uncomfortable at the quiet request, barely overheard from where he was helping Eiji-san plate up miso soup and tamagoyaki. The man, indeed still wearing pajama pants - decorated with a cartoon cat playing bongos, of all things – had given Kazuya a hearty pat on the shoulder as he herded him back towards the kitchen, a wordless thanks for handling Sawamura, the catcher guessed.

By the time Eitoku-san came downstairs, all dishes were plated up and they were ready to eat, though Sawamura’s mood was still subdued.

The pitcher only really started to rally back a semblance of his good spirits once his mother commented on how nice the day was and that they’d probably have no issues playing – of course baseball would be key to lifting up Sawamura’s mood. Kazuya shouldn’t have expected anything  less.

By the time he started herding Kazuya out of the house, making sure he had his mitt and bottles of water while he himself carried two bento boxes (courtesy of Junko-san) as well as baseballs and his own glove, Sawamura was more or less cheery.

Admittedly, it wasn’t quite the restless, ebullient mood he’d been in when he’d woken at four in the morning, but it was better than the mood triggered by the conversation about his grandmother so Kazuya was relieved all the same.

Sawamura kept a steady stream of chatter as they walked across the sleepy little town, pointing out shops and areas that were of any significance to him. Over there a neighbor’s house who would sell candied apples during festivals, further out the farmlands of a family that raised sheep and, apparently, a very mean spirited alpaca, closer to what might be considered the center of town an old miso factory – since converted to a quasi-museum about agriculture in the area. Most interesting was the pointing out of a narrow road, nearly hidden between massive pines, that apparently led to a walking trail to the summit of Mt. Nishidake.

There was, according to Sawamura, a large temple on the way, and so festivals were usually hosted halfway up the mountain.

They made their way through the town at a leisurely pace until finally they reached what looked like a squat 3 floor building with wide windows – the local community center, according to the lettering on the front.

Sawamura dragged Kazuya around the building then, where, in a wide green space mostly devoid of trees, stood a bedraggled tennis court, what looked like a worn out soccer field, and, at the very corner, with a narrow set of stands for at most 20 people and barely protected dugouts, the most sorry looking baseball field Kazuya had ever seen.

There was already a small group gathered at one of the dugouts, and, at the center, Kazuya recognized who could only be Aotsuki Wakana, the only one of Sawamura’s childhood friends whose name he actually remembered.

It’d have been hard to forget her name, what with how often Kuramochi envied her existence in Sawamura’s life. Kazuya never really got the jealousy – she was, objectively, a lovely girl, but he’d never really had any interest in girls in general. Sawamura at least, seemed to have no actual romantic interest in her, so Kuramochi’s ranting complaints about the pitcher’s nonexistent relationship were really nothing but free entertainment to the catcher.

“Ta-da!” Sawamura cheered, gesturing to the bedraggled field before them. “What do you think? It’s not Seidō, but it works, right? We had to convince the people at the center to let us use it when we officially made up the team last year, so we’re pretty proud of it!”

Kazuya blinked in bewilderment.

“What do you mean? Is this the field you usually use? I thought that’d be at your school.” Sawamura kept walking towards the field, waving at his friends. He did turn to answer Kazuya though.

“Nah, our school doesn’t have a field. It used to, but they sold a lot of the land that belonged to the school in the 80s and apparently the field was part of that? We’re the first baseball team the school has had in like fifteen years!” Sawamura was puffed up with pride.

“Have you really only been playing one year? I thought you’d played at least since your first year of middle school.”

“Well,” Sawamura hummed as they approached the gate at the chain-link fence that surrounded the field “We’ve technically been playing that long, sort of. We just couldn’t get a faculty advisor until last year, so we weren’t officially a school team until then. We only played any actual games last year!”  He grimaced “We lost all of them though.”

“So you don’t have a coach and you barely have a faculty advisor” Kazuya deadpanned.

“That’s rude Miyuki Kazuya!” Sawamura huffed “Kogami-sensei may not know much about baseball, but he tries his best! We were only able to play games at all because of him you know?!?”

Kazuya raised his hands placatingly but didn’t have a chance to retort. Sawamura’s friends, seeing both of them come onto the field, were rushing over, Wakana and another boy following at a more sedate pace.

Introductions were handled noisily, and with enthusiasm, by Sawamura. Surprisingly, none of Sawamura’s friends seemed all that surprised to hear he’d collected Kazuya as a new friend and that Kazuya would be a guest at his home for the next few days. He knew, of course, that Sawamura was quick to befriend people, but he hadn’t quite expected his friends to be this unruffled at his presence. It did make him wonder how many of the group were here due to Sawamura’s own gregarious nature rather than because they’d grown up in close proximity.

They didn’t really have enough people to play in full teams, so they split into small ‘teams’ limited to the infield, with Sawamura and his usual catcher, the Nobu Sawamura had mentioned before, playing for both teams. Kazuya chose to sit out at first, much to Sawamura’s annoyance.

In truth, Kazuya wanted to see how Sawamura played with his Nagano teammates. He’d been aware of course, in a vague way, that Sawamura had not had any formal instruction when it came to baseball. His moving fastball was evidence enough of a lack of a pitching coach, if nothing else. He had underestimated, however, just how bare Sawamura’s life had been of any support in developing his talent on the field before he arrived at Seidō.

It left him curious, so he begged off of playing for the time being and settled in to watch, sitting at one of the dugouts next to Aotsuki, who exchanged a quick smile with him, but focused on her friends playing, even as she took copious notes in a notebook she had with her. Another boy, Mori, Kazuya thought his name was, served as the umpire.

Clearly, Aotsuki was the one handling most of the technical expertise for the team, in the absence of a coach. It was also very clear, once they started playing in earnest, that her own lack of experience meant the help she could offer was limited.

What happened on the field could only barely be called baseball.

It was very clear that every single player lacked experience and instruction. Errors abounded. Because of his own position, Kazuya couldn’t help but hone in on Nobu and point out in his head all the shortcomings in his performance that stood out in this friendly in-team game.

The footwork was sloppy and unsure. Nobu was clearly lacking in experience in framing pitches. And, perhaps most damningly for their defensive performance as a team, he was scared of Sawamura’s pitching, and was completely unable to catch without significantly limiting Sawamura’s power. Sawamura could not pitch in earnest without the catcher calling out for him to throw more softly.

By the end of the first hour, Sawamura looked tense. He had an odd, spooked horse look about him, and while he did soften his throws at Nobu’s request, he ended up gradually increasing the strength of the pitches again, much to the increasing frustration of the catcher who had to repeatedly remind him to throw softly.

Kazuya was at least glad to see Sawamura was not forcing himself through the form he’d developed at Seidō, though admittedly he’d had to correct himself a couple of times on the mound already. But as he saw the frustration build in Nobu and Sawamura both he wondered if he should interfere.

It became clear that Sawamura’s friends were uneasy about how he was pitching. They kept exchanging bewildered glances every time the power of Sawamura’s pitches ramped up, calling out in ever weaker voices ‘Don’t mind!’, ‘Softer Ei-chan!’, and ‘Don’t worry, Nobu!’ at each passed ball. Aotsuki, who’d been smiling at first, looked tense, biting her lip in unease, pen stilled over the notebook she was holding as she watched the situation with round eyes.

Kazuya had a sinking realization as he watched them all. Sawamura likely had never had issues limiting himself with this team before. He’d probably managed to keep his pitches to a power and speed that was manageable for Nobu without too much issue before… That was why that last pitch he'd thrown in middle school, the one that had led Rei-chan to recruit him, had been an outlier, not the norm in the game she’d watched.

But this Sawamura, back in time and with all his experience at a powerhouse school in the back of his mind, was all too aware of how lacking these low power pitches were. Kazuya’s own words at their first meeting, what to them were years before, had made that clear to him. Sawamura had never held back on his pitching once he got to Seidō. 

This, Kazuya considered, might be a serious problem. He didn’t want Sawamura’s dynamic with his Nagano team to be damaged because of his time at Seidō – especially since none of his Nagano friends would know why he’d changed in what to them was likely a couple of days since they last played.

Maybe… Maybe if he managed to show them what a good catcher could do with Sawamura on the mound, they might actually be less eager to ask him to hold back. He’d probably have to give Nobu tips, but having a catcher actually willing to try to catch his pitches, his actual pitches, would only be helpful to Sawamura this year. Certainly more helpful than having him hold back all the time.  

With that thought in mind, and seeing the building line of tension at Sawamura’s jawline, Kazuya stood, startling Aotsuki.

With a careless grin, he called out.

“Sorry, would you mind if I caught for a bit?”

Chapter Text

The change was made without too much fuss. The group was unsettled enough that they seemed relieved to see Nobu and Sawamura’s battery separate. Sawamura himself did look relieved, but there was a line of tension throughout his frame that had not abated, and his eyes were dark.

Kazuya decided that, first order of business was to talk to Sawamura. He needed to get him relaxed on the mound. After he put on his gear of course.

The padded catcher’s armor was borrowed off Nobu, who looked a bit embarrassed and disappointed at how they’d been playing. Sawamura had, of course, introduced Kazuya as a catcher, so it was possible the younger boy had been hoping to show Kazuya he could handle himself.

Kazuya couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. It was clear that Nobu wasn’t lacking in his drive to improve, but he had no training and little experience. A catcher like him was possibly the worst possible match to Sawamura and his wild, unpolished pitching. It was unfortunate that Nobu was unable to catch without so severely limiting Sawamura’s power and speed.

He tried smiling reassuringly at the younger catcher, but he wasn’t entirely sure that did anything. Nobu looked pretty miserable as Kazuya walked towards the mound, despite the encouragement voiced by all his friends.

Sawamura was kicking at the dirt on the mound despondently as Kazuya approached. He covered his mouth with his glove as they usually did in games before saying, miserably.

“It’s different. I knew it was going to be, but I didn’t realize how much.”

Kazuya took a second to try and parse out Sawamura’s meaning.

“Playing with them?” he asked lowly, also covering his mouth with his mitt.

Sawamura nodded. He looked frustrated.

“It was never a problem before.” He mumbled, a little hoarsely. “But now it’s like… It’s like a feeling building up… We can’t even actually play. I can’t really pitch.”

He huffed out a breath.

“I want to play with them. They’re my team. But…” Sawamura looked frustrated.

“Well.” Kazuya started. “I think that’s pretty natural. You got used to a higher standard of baseball while playing at Seidō. I think it’s normal to have difficulty adapting to this team again. You guys never had a coach, so there’s no way your friends would manage to play like we did then.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Sawamura groaned, annoyed. “But I don’t want it to be difficult. It wasn’t a problem before! And…” He paused, throwing a harassed look to his friends at the bases and by the dugout. “It’s not like they’d understand why it is a problem now… I mean, I’ve never had an issue holding back my pitches for Nobu before! They’re probably pretty weirded out right now.”

Kazuya stared at Sawamura for a moment. He understood the frustration, really, he did. It was a bit unfortunate that the time travel thing meant Sawamura’s expectations surrounding baseball and the people he played with were so different than they had probably been at this point in time.

“Well. We can show them, then. A reason why.” He grinned at Sawamura, tapping his chest with his mitt in a gesture so ingrained and yet so missed it felt like part of a puzzle snapping back into place. “You’ve just got to pitch to my mitt, remember?”

Sawamura looked at him, eyes wide. Then he beamed, his whole face lighting up, the tension melting off of him like spring frost under strong sunlight.

“YOSH! Let’s do this Miyuki Kazuya!” He shouted, throwing his arms out, surprising his friends who’d been throwing worried little glances at the mound.

The energy in the field immediately shifted as Sawamura’s mood lifted. Just as at Seidō, this team was fully attuned to Sawamura’s moods and responded accordingly. Kazuya could tell they were curious too. As he walked back to the catcher’s box he could feel their stares turn to him as they prepared to resume play.

He crouched down into a squat, putting the gridded mask on with a quick nod to Mori-kun and the batter, Adachi-kun.

There was no point in trying to get the ball to a specific spot – Sawamura during this time had little to no control and it wasn’t like they could use the numbers just yet. They would have to showcase their plays using only Sawamura’s moving fastball in its roughest possible form.

It didn’t matter. In catcher’s gear, with Sawamura facing him from the mound, this was the closest to actual play that Kazuya had had with him in two years. His body was suffused with warm excitement for what was to come as he positioned his mitt right at the center, nodding to Sawamura.

Sawamura smiled back, grin so wide it was a wonder he could smile like that without his cheeks hurting.

His leg went up. And then, suddenly, he swung.

The ball rushed past the batter, twisting upwards and to the right. It didn’t matter. Kazuya’s mitt moved, lightning quick, to meet it.

The sound of the ball hitting the pocket of his mitt seemed to echo through the field. Sawamura’s friends stared, gob smacked.

“Yosh! How was that, Miyuki Kazuya? That was a good one wasn’t it?!?” Sawamura was practically bouncing up on the mound, looking at Kazuya with a triumphant grin.

Kazuya smirked back, heart filled to the brim with fondness.

“Not quite. That was a ball.”

“GEH!”

“But other than that, nice pitch” Kazuya continued, throwing the ball back.

At that, Sawamura’s friends seemed to rally, shouting out excited calls of ‘Nice pitch Ei-chan!’. They were clearly shocked at the speed and force of the pitch. If Nobu were catching, it’d definitely have been a passed ball.

Kazuya could tell they were looking at him, still. He wasn’t oblivious to how much higher his level was as a player in comparison to these people. He’d been playing since little league, way before middle school. He had years of experience under multiple different coaches enabling him to catch for Sawamura.

This was likely the first time they’d seen Sawamura pitch to someone who could actually catch his full power pitches. Kazuya was hoping he’d be able to instill at least a few things into Nobu that would allow Sawamura to practice at least a little without having to fully hold back, and this, showing that it could be done, would be paramount to getting Sawamura’s Nagano team on board.

If Sawamura was hoping to replicate the conditioning he’d undergone his first year at Seidō here, in Nagano, it would probably be easier if he had the support of his friends.

They kept playing, Sawamura’s friends seemingly taking his powered up pitches as a challenge and trying as best they could to hit. To be fair, they did, occasionally – but Sawamura’s erratic moving balls kept them to grounders, fly balls, and foul balls.

Kazuya prided himself in the fact that he didn’t allow a single passed ball, much to the admiration of Sawamura’s friends. By the time they stopped for a break, Kazuya was actually quite tired. Catching for Sawamura, as fun as it was, and as right as it felt, had never been easy work. It took a lot of focus to keep up with the changing trajectories of his pitches, and to move fast enough to catch them.

As Sawamura’s friends who’d been at the bases crowded around him at the mound, shouting out compliments over his pitching and ruffling his hair much to Sawamura’s joy, Kazuya moved to the shade of the dugout, picking up a water bottle and wiping the sweat from his brow.

As the sun had climbed in the sky, the heat had built, and it was actually quite hot now. The lack of any kind of cover on the field itself was familiar, but Kazuya had to admit he was glad to step out of the direct sun into the shallow dugout.

As he gulped down a bit of water, he was vaguely aware of Aotsuki approaching from his left side.

“That was amazing Miyuki-san.” She said, though she was looking out at the field where Sawamura was still surrounded by the rest of their friends. “I’ve never seen anyone manage to catch Eijun’s pitches before.”

“She’s right” Nobu agreed, walking over to him as well. “I have no idea how you did it. Ei-chan’s pitches are crazy.”

The younger boy scratched at the back of his head, chagrined.

“I knew I wasn’t a very good catcher, but seeing you catch for Ei-chan, I’m realizing I actually really suck, huh?”

Kazuya was a bit surprised that Nobu would say that himself. Oddly, the boy didn’t look particularly upset; mostly wistful as he stared out at the rest of their friends. The group was slowly walking over to the dugout, still immersed in enthusiastic discussion over Sawamura’s pitching.

“I don't know if I would say that exactly. You haven't been playing long, right?” He asked.

“Oh, no. Maybe a bit over a year. I've never liked sports much, I only started playing baseball because Ei-chan asked" Nobu answered with a wry grin. “I'm guessing you've been playing much longer?”

Kazuya retuned the smile, confirming Nobu's guess.

“Yeah. Since elementary school. I was part of a senior league in middle school too. Sawamura's a bad match for you.”

“Well, there's nothing we can do about that" Aotsuki interjected, smiling wryly at the two of them.

“Out of all of us, Nobu is actually the best at catching for Eijun" she continued “Even if he does have to ask him to throw more softly.”

“Well, I'm not surprised.” Kazuya responded, looking out to where Sawamura was still entertaining his friends and mimicking a throwing notion. He noticed Kazuya’s gaze and beamed at him. For the moment, at least, the uncertainty surrounding his playing with this team was assuaged.

“Sawamura's pitches move a lot, and the more power he puts behind them the more unpredictable they get. I promise, there's a ton of catchers way more experienced than you that would have a hard time catching for him.” 

“But not you.” Aotsuki asked, looking at him. Kazuya shrugged.

“I'm not saying it's easy" He corrected “But I've worked with enough pitchers and have played for long enough that I can handle his pitches. I can give you some tips if you'd like" He offered, looking back at Nobu.

“Would you?” Nobu asked, seemingly relieved. Kazuya was a bit surprised, and apparently Nobu noticed because he sheepishly continued.

“I don't think Eijun would be happy holding back again after seeing what his pitching is like with an actually good catcher” He looked out with a fond look at the rest of his friends who were still approaching the dugout, surrounding Sawamura as though he were a sun in the center of their own little solar system.

“He'd try" he said “He really would. But it wouldn't be fair to ask Ei-chan to do that. I need to get better so he can pitch the way he wants to.” 

Both Kazuya and Aotsuki looked at him at that, standing in silence for a second as the statement sunk in.

Then, Kazuya huffed out a little laugh.

“Well,” he said finally “thinking like that is a pretty good sign that with some more experience you'd make a pretty good catcher.” 

Nobu beamed at him at that, clearly pleased, though a bit embarrassed. They quickly agreed that Kazuya would go over some tips and recommendations for him in the afternoon, and then Nobu dashed out of the dugout to join the larger group as they finally approached.

“That was nice of you.” Aotsuki said. She was looking at him with a considering expression.

 Kazuya glanced at her, a bit taken aback.

“Not really” he responded. “It's the truth. More than anything, the catcher's role is to make sure they can bring out the pitcher's true potential. His trying to improve to make sure Sawamura can pitch properly is a pretty good sign he wants to actually be able to do that. It doesn't cost me anything to give him a few options.”

She nodded.

“Still, it means a lot to him. To all of us I guess…” She said. “It might be weird to you, since you've been playing for so long, but all of us only really got into baseball because Eijun wanted to play.”

Kazuya hummed as he bent down to take off the shin guards.

“It looks like you all are putting a lot of effort for something that could have been just a whim of his.” He said, nodding toward her little notebook, where he could see the team's mistakes jotted down with notes and jotted question marks. Clearly Aotsuki, at least, was serious about pushing the team to improve.

“Don't get me wrong" she laughed “we do enjoy playing, now. But yeah, it was mostly just Eijun pushing. He's a bit hard to say no to, I'm sure you've noticed.”

Kazuya shrugged.

“Not sure about that. I tell him no all the time.” He said. Aotsuki smiled, amusedly at him.

“You just don't know him well enough yet. It won't last.” There was an ominous amount of certainty in her voice. She patted his shoulder pityingly before walking out of the dugout to congratulate Sawamura on his pitching.

Chapter Text

The group had lunch under the shade at the back of the community center, where there were several benches by one of the back entrances to the building. It was a relaxed meal, and it was clear that this group of friends was used to doing something like this relatively frequently.

Kazuya had expected to feel a little like an interloper, now that baseball was no longer directly involved and he didn't have a clear position to play, but, to his surprise, nothing could be further from the truth.

He was apparently accepted as a part of the group pretty immediately, subject to the other boys’ offers for sharing food in the same way as Sawamura was. Sharing, apparently, was just the way these guys ate– no bento was anyone's sole property, and they had, in fact, laid them all down, opened, so that all the food would be available to whomever was interested in it.

Aotsuki, or Wakana, as she'd requested Kazuya call her, took charge of making sure they all got drinks from the vending machine, while the boys set up what was turning out to be a bit of a picnic.

It was, Kazuya thought, quite pleasant, despite the fact he didn't really know anyone. Sawamura's friends were all a cheery, laid-back sort, and while they did ask Kazuya questions about himself and showed significant awe at his becoming part of a powerhouse school, they didn't try to pry too much into his friendship with Sawamura or his personal life. They also didn't treat him formally, despite his being older than all of them.

After lunch, when they were all sated, they resumed playing, but not as they had before. Instead, Kazuya took the chance to start going over some of the basic things Nobu could do to improve as a catcher, followed closely by Wakana as she jotted down his recommendations.

Wakana was most definitely the team's technical expert, and she asked multiple pertinent questions, some of which Kazuya wasn't fully sure how to answer, though he did his best to share what he remembered his coaches saying about whatever particular exercise he was going over to give her as much context as he could.

Nobu and Wakana were not the only ones interested, either. All other members of the group would occasionally pop up with questions about whether any particular exercise was suitable for their own positions, to the point that Kazuya ended up going over a lot of tips and tricks he knew for everything from batting to base stealing instead of just catching specific information.

He found, surprisingly, that he didn't mind. Despite the group's overall limited experience and shallow talent pool, they made up for it with their sheer enthusiasm, and it turned out that it was actually quite fun to go over basic exercises and training options with a group that was so hung up on everything he said.

It helped that Sawamura was essentially boiling with happy excitement too, his good mood infectious even as he kept asking inane questions – likely purposely, to annoy Kazuya, going by the shit-eating grin on his face each time he did so.

Helping Nobu, in particular, was quite nice – the younger catcher, for all he was timid and uncertain about how to follow some of Kazuya's instructions, was clearly determined to get as much help from him as he could. It reminded Kazuya a little bit of the time he spent working with the younger catchers at Seido as a third year, though their first year catchers were significantly better players than Nobu was.

It was a little jarring to realize that he missed being in that kind of position. For all that Kazuya hadn't been a particularly didactic senpai, and hadn't really acted as a real mentor, for the most part, he had played a role in helping younger players develop, not just the pitchers. He hadn't realized how much he'd enjoyed that part of being Seido's captain.

Time passed quickly. It felt like no time at all after lunch when the group started going their separate ways around mid-afternoon. Wakana walked part of the way with Kazuya and Sawamura as they made their way out of the field, Sawamura enthusiastically waving goodbye as some of his friends went the other way, Kazuya waving more sedately behind him.

The girl grilled Kazuya on specific strategic scenarios he'd mentioned earlier, Sawamura seemingly content to walk alongside the two of them in pleased silence. Finally, Wakana turned down a side road to head back home, leaving Sawamura and Kazuya to walk on their own.

Kazuya relaxed into his place next to Sawamura, who was walking with a happy hum. The day had been enjoyable so far, but truth be told, he was glad to be alone with Sawamura once again.

“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” He said lightly, teasingly.

“So rude, Miyuki Kazuya! Why would you think meeting my friends would be bad to begin with?!?” Sawamura retorted with a huff.

“Well…” Kazuya shrugged “I’ll be honest, I was worried they’d all be as loud as you.” He smirked as Sawamura predictably bristled.

“You’re so annoying Miyuki Kazuya!!!” Kazuya just laughed. He felt light and airy. He’d missed this – baseball, with Sawamura pitching at him. Bickering good naturedly with Sawamura. Just plain walking with Sawamura.

Sawamura was muttering offendedly at him, but he didn’t actually seem too put out – there was a  smile turning the corner of his lips, so Kazuya assumed he was complaining just for the hell of it and didn’t actually care too much about Kazuya’s teasing.

“Any plans now?” He asked, interrupting Sawamura’s litany of nonsensical complaints. It was mid afternoon, so he wondered whether Sawamura had any plans for the day beyond just playing baseball with his Nagano friends.

“Not really” The pitcher responded with a shrug. “There’s nothing to do at home and for most of the other places that I wanted to go we’d need bikes or a ride from my parents, so we’ll probably have to spend some time in town if you don’t  want to  just stay at my house doing nothing.”

Kazuya hummed in acknowledgement, then frowned a bit. He had nothing against spending time outside the Sawamura family home, but the day had gotten increasingly warm and the sun was beating down mercilessly as the two of them walked down a narrow street away from the community center.

“Why don’t we stop somewhere with some shade?” He asked. “My water bottle is empty so it’d be nice to get a cold drink. I should probably call my dad too.”

He felt a bit guilty remembering his father. He hadn’t checked his phone all day so he didn’t know  whether he’d tried calling him earlier. Sawamura nodded at that.

“Something cold would be nice!” He agreed. “Let’s head to the park we went yesterday, there’s a convenience store on the other side of it, and tables in the shade.”

They made their way leisurely across the little town, up and down the hilly streets at a slow pace. Sawamura directed their way with accompanying anecdotes about what seemed to be every single street sign or building. They walked for several minutes alongside dark sided houses and squat little buildings, occasionally passing by shops manned by kindly shopkeepers all of whom seemed to greet Sawamura by name. So did the passerby they passed through.

Kazuya wondered if the recognition was part of this being a very small town or whether it was because it was Sawamura in particular.

By the time they reached the broad swathe of trees denoting the park they’d played catch in the day before, they’d received things from three of the people they passed by – a bag full of freshly picked nanohana, ‘Thank your dad for me! He fixed Ochako-san’s bike good as new last week’, a bundle of dark green cucumbers ‘I grew them in the greenhouse, can you believe it Ei-chan? That’ll teach Eitoku-san not to doubt me!’, and a heavy package of fresh bamboo shoots ‘Your mother mentioned she’d pickle some for me earlier this week, would you mind getting these to her Ei-chan?’.

More heavily laden than they’d been at the beginning, Kazuya was relieved when they finally made it to the promised shaded tables at the corner of the park and set the bags down. He looked around for a minute while Sawamura arranged the packages.

He didn’t quite recognize this part of the park, which wasn’t surprising since it looked to be a sizeable one. There were several small tables set in the shade of the large trees surrounding the park, many of them in bloom, the fragrance of the blossoms stronger in the heat of the sun, though not unpleasant.

Further out, there was a wide fountain with stone benches around it. The fountain itself was shaped as a wide rectangular pool of grey stone, but in its middle, positioned as though gliding over the water was a flock of metal birds. The sculptures were remarkably lifelike, some of the birds at an angle so their wings just barely grazed the surface of the water.

Water columns jumped out at timed intervals from behind the birds, giving the impression of a murmuration of starlings diving in and out of a waterfall of water. It was beautiful.

Kazuya was a bit surprised to see there were no more people at this corner of the park, but he supposed it was a weekday and an awkward time in the afternoon for there to be much movement despite the people they’d met on the way.

“Why don’t you go ahead and call your dad? I’ll head to the convenience store and get us some drinks.” Sawamura offered.

A flash of panic struck Kazuya at that. His hand flashed out and grabbed at Sawamura’s wrist before he could think. Sawamura looked at him, startled. Then, his features softened in understanding.

“Don’t worry Miyuki-senpai.” He said gently. “The convenience store is right over there, see? I won’t even have to cross the street to get there. You can see me the whole time.”

He gestured to the side where, indeed, some distance away, clearly visible, stood a small convenience store. It looked to have entrances on both sides, one turned towards the street and one directly onto the park itself. He’d be able to see Sawamura the whole time.

“Right. Sorry.” Kazuya said, clearing his throat in embarrassment. He let go of Sawamura’s wrist slowly and offered the pitcher a strained smile. “It’s a good idea. I’ll go ahead and call.”

Sawamura nodded, turning to go.

Kazuya sat at the table, facing the pitcher’s back as he walked away, before fumbling for his phone. He’d put it in the bag Junko-san had offered them, where both bento boxes were ensconced. He periodically glanced up to check Sawamura’s progress towards the convenience store, even as he pulled his flip phone out to check for calls from his dad.

To his surprise, he had no calls, but there were two unread messages. He checked to see Sawamura walk into the convenience store completely unharmed, breathing a sigh of what he didn’t want to admit was relief before checking the messages.

The first was a photo. It took him a second to understand what he was looking at, but then he realized his father had probably forwarded a photo sent by Junko-san.

He saw himself, soaked to the bone, folded over laughing, eyes closed in mirth. In front of him was an equally soaked Sawamura, holding onto a leaking hose, blinking water from his eyes with a ridiculous expression. Eiji-san was in the background of the shot, mostly dry but smiling at both of them.

It was a photo taken the day before, when Kazuya and Sawamura had started fooling around with the water hoses when clearing the irrigation system for the vegetables. Below it, his father had sent a single message:

“I'm glad to see you're enjoying yourself".

Kazuya stared at the message for a second, before dialing his father's number. To his surprise, his father picked up almost immediately, greeting him with a softly pleased “Kazuya" that had him smiling a little.

Kazuya started their conversation easily, letting his father know things were going well and giving him a quick rundown of everything that had happened since they'd last talked on the phone. He then asked about the picture his father had sent,.

“Ah, Sawamura-san sent me that yesterday. I’m glad she did. I haven't seen you laugh quite that hard in a long time Kazuya.”

His father told him he thought it was Sawamura-san's way of reassuring him that Kazuya was doing well. Kazuya then heard the sound of Hiroo-san, one of the mill's employees coming over the line, asking his father to speak, so the conversation had to end there. Kazuya did take the time to reassure his dad and to let him know he'd try and send more messages or call over the next couple of days.

Throughout the conversation, he'd kept an eye on the convenience store as Sawamura had made his way inside, and just as he was saying his goodbyes the pitcher stepped out carrying two plastic bags.

He grinned Kazuya's way when he saw he was on the phone and sped up as he saw Kazuya snap it shut.

“That was a pretty short call!” He remarked, placing the bags on the table along with everything else they had with them, and starting to look into one of them.

“He couldn't speak for long, he had work.” Kazuya said lightly glancing curiously at him.

Sawamura quickly withdrew something from the bag, hiding it behind his back and grinning at Kazuya.

“Hehe, I've got a surprise Miyuki Kazuya!” He rocked forwards and backwards in excitement. “It's pretty hot today, so I figured along with drinks I'd get us something else!”

He drew out what he had hidden quickly, triumphantly brandishing a small carton of coffee ice cream with a cheerful ‘Ta-da!’. Kazuya could only stare in shock, tension drawing his frame tight, a cold sweat starting at the middle of his back.

Sawamura didn't seem to notice the tension, offering Kazuya the ice cream while distractedly looking into the bag for his own treat -a tayaki shaped ice cream with red bean filing, chattering excitedly that since he couldn't deliver the requested ice cream before he was happy to do it now.

Kazuya forced himself to smile. This was Sawamura trying to do a nice thing for him. It was hot, ice cream would not go amiss. It was unfortunate that the only thing Kazuya could picture, staring at the little carton, was a very similar one crushed onto the asphalt, Sawamura bleeding out a few meters away.

“Thanks Sawamura.”  He held it numbly in his hands. Sawamura, ripping open the packaging for his own ice cream, frowned a bit at him.

“Aren't you going to open it? It's going to melt, you know?” 

“I am, I am. See, I'm eating, calm down.” Kazuya pushed on with a strained smile at Sawamura, even as his stomach roiled with the memories of that day. He snapped off the little plastic spoon attached to the lid, opening the carton to reveal the cream colored ice cream within, even as he pictured it melting onto the hot pavement on a summer's day.

It would be fine, right? Sawamura was right next to him, chowing down on his own choice of treat, happy as a clam. He'd bought the coffee ice cream as a nice gesture to Kazuya. He could get through one measly portion, surely.

Kazuya carefully scooped a bit of the ice cream onto the little plastic spoon, gingerly putting it in his mouth.

He should have known better.

Chapter Text

He should have known better.

As soon as the sensation of cold gave way to the bittersweet flavor of the ice cream, Kazuya felt bile climbing up his throat. All he could see in his mind's eye was Sawamura, bleeding out on the ground, a crushed carton of ice cream melting in the sun just a few steps away.

He threw himself towards the tree line, folding over and violently purging the contents of his stomach. He could barely hear Sawamura's frantic questions over the blood violently rushing in his ears, even as he gagged and vomited again.

Idiot. You stupid idiot. Of course this was going to happen.

It had taken Kazuya months before he'd managed to drink coffee again, after Sawamura had died. He still remembered how just seeing the printed image of coffee beans was enough early on to turn his stomach. He'd been getting better, drinking black coffee on its own no longer a challenge, but ice cream? That was too far. Clearly.

“Sorry" he gasped at Sawamura. “I'm so sorry.”

“What?!?” Sawamura ‘s panicked voice answered him. “What are you saying sorry for!?” 

Kazuya forewent answering in favor of heaving once again, bile rushing as the image of Sawamura's broken body flashed in his mind. He shut his eyes tighter as spasms wreaked over his body, trying to banish the image from his head.

Sawamura was supposed to be alive. He was supposed to be, but Kazuya found he couldn't call out to him – the only thing he could do when opening his mouth was spit out the rushing bile that crowded his throat.

Suddenly, a cold bottle of water was pressed to the back of his neck where he was crouching, struggling to breathe by the blooming trees at the edge of the park.

“Here, Miyuki-senpai. This should help.”

Sawamura. Of course it was Sawamura. God Kazuya was really losing it. He heard a quick trickle of water, and then the bottle at the back of his neck was replaced by a wet handkerchief. Sawamura held it there, allowing the cold to soothe Kazuya while carefully rubbing over his back.

“Do you think you can drink some water? It should help wash the taste out.” 

Kazuya blindly grasped at Sawamura's wrist, ignoring the opened bottle he was now offering. He focused on that solid point of contact as he struggled to control his breathing. He realized he could feel Sawamura's heartbeat if he pressed his thumb down on the other boy's wrist. He drew all his focus to that, fixating on the fluttering pulse under his hand as he slowed down his breathing.

Only after his breathing was mostly normal did he use one of his hands to take the bottle and take small little sips of the cold water. His other hand remained tight at Sawamura's wrist, clutching it as though it were a lifeline.

“What happened?” It was Sawamura's voice, shaky and worried. Worried, and worryingly quiet. “Was the ice cream spoiled or something? I didn't even know it could spoil!”

Kazuya shook his head. He took another slow sip, tightening his grip at Sawamura's wrist as he put off answering.

“That's not it. Sorry. It was my fault. I should have just told you I can't eat this flavor – we could have exchanged it for something else.”

Sawamura tried pulling away, confusion all over his voice as he responded. Kazuya wouldn't allow it, pulling him back by the wrist with something close to desperation.

“This flavor? Do you mean the brand? Or"  and he sounded slightly hurt as he continued “was asking for coffee ice cream back then a prank or something? Are you allergic? I thought you liked  the coffee flavor!”

Kazuya felt shaky as he breathed through Sawamura's questions. He pulled the pitcher's hand closer, pressing his forehead to it as he tried composing an answer. Sawamura thankfully did not try pulling away again.

“I do!..” Breathe. “Or at least I did. I can't…” Breathe. “Remember I told you Kuramochi and I… We saw you? Right after?”

Sawamura's voice was very small when he responded.

“You said you saw me bleeding out on the street.”

Kazuya nodded, head barely moving against Sawamura's warm hand, still pressed to his forehead.

“You bought it for me. Coffee ice cream. Back then.”

Sawamura still sounded confused as he replied cautiously.

“I mean… yeah? I bought everybody's I think…”

Kazuya breathed out, trying to stop picturing that damn ice cream carton melting in the sun.

“It was the first thing I saw. Right after the ambulance took you away.”

Sawamura didn't respond for a second.

“The ice cream?” He asked finally, sounding as though he dreaded the answer. Kazuya could only nod miserably.

“Ever since then" he elaborated between tiny little sips of water that fell like lead in his unsettled stomach “the only thing I see when I look at coffee flavored ice cream is you, broken on the middle of that crosswalk, that damn ice cream melting just a bit farther away.”

Sawamura didn't respond. He'd gone very, very still.

“The worst part is" Kazuya continued, voice raw “is that the only thing I could think of was you, asking me to go with you. I couldn't… It took me months before I could even look at coffee without feeling sick. I'm sorry, I should have just told you.”

Sawamura was very still for several long seconds. Then, he started, in a trembling voice.

“Maybe you should have gone back to Tokyo…Instead of staying, I mean.”  

Kazuya popped his head up, ignoring the dizziness caused by the motion to look bewildered at Sawamura. The pitcher wasn't looking at him, instead glancing to the side, where Kazuya had tossed the little carton of ice cream.

“Where's this coming from?” He asked, worried. “I told you, this was my fault. If I had just explained things-"

“But that's the thing!”  Sawamura interrupted. His eyes were wide and shining with unshed tears, and he was biting his lip the way he did when he was particularly frustrated. “It was stupid of me to just assume you'd want the ice cream. I didn't even think of what the last time I bought it was like for you – after the whole thing with the convenience store too!”

Sawamura tried once again to pull away, admittedly half-heartedly, folding in on himself when he was unable to break Kazuya's grip on his wrist.

“I feel like everything I do is just reminding you of me dying, and making you upset. I don't know how to fix that.” He turned those big golden eyes of his to Kazuya, heartbroken. “I don't know how to help you.”

Kazuya stared at him. Weakly, he said:

“You are helping me.” When Sawamura just shook his head in disbelief, Kazuya put more strength into his voice, dropping the water bottle he was still holding to tip Sawamura's face to his so he could look him in the eye.

“You are helping me.” He repeated, firmly. “Just by reminding me you're here, alive, you're helping me.” Sawamura just stared at him, eyes wide.

Kazuya paused, uncertain of how to make his point clearer to Sawamura.

“Right after we saw you" he started, haltingly “when the ambulance took you. Rei-chan was there. She kept telling Kuramochi and I that you'd be okay, that they'd get you to the hospital and that you'd be fine.”

He paused, shuddering at the memory of that day.

“I didn't know I believed her. I mean, I saw you. You looked…I can't even describe it. There was no way anyone could be fine after that.”  Kazuya closed his eyes, tucking his head between his knees as he forced himself to breathe steadily through the recollection.

Sawamura didn't interrupt, but he pressed himself close to Kazuya's side, throwing an arm over his shoulders and drawing the catcher tightly against himself. Kazuya relaxed into the warmth that emanated from the other boy, his breathing coming more easily as he focused on the heat at his side and Sawamura's throbbing pulse under his thumb.

“I guess I did believe her, though. Coach Kataoka went in the ambulance with you, and Rei-chan took Kuramochi and I back to the school and then went to meet him at the hospital. Oota-sensei was the one left in charge of the team.”

Kazuya kept breathing steadily, in and out, trying to match the rhythm of Sawamura's pulse. He found he could recall that day perfectly, but chose not to go into much detail. Sawamura didn't need it.

“We waited for hours. We just wanted to know what happened to you. And then, coach Kataoka came back, and called the whole team. And that's when he told us" He said, swallowing, throat dry. “He told us that you never made it to the hospital. That you died right there, in the ambulance, just a few minutes before you got to the hospital.”

Kazuya breathed shakily.

“After what Rei-chan said I guess I was hoping…. Even though it was stupid to…. That you'd be okay, eventually.” He shook his head ruefully.

“It was like waiting for hours to take a clean breath of fresh air, only to realize I was still underwater.”  He continued, softly, hearing Sawamura's breath hitch next to him.

“Have you ever accidentally breathed in water when you were swimming?” He asked, though he didn't wait for a response. “It hurts. It really, really hurts. And it was really similar then. It was like every breath after coach told me you were gone hurt.”

“Of course I'm going to get reminders of what happened, Sawamura. We decided that it doesn't matter anymore, because we're back in the past, and yeah, that's true. But it still happened, and it still hurts.”

“But then, wouldn't it be better if you weren't reminded at all?”  Sawamura asked, miserably. Kazuya shook his head.

“I'd rather be reminded. Remember how I said you're helping?” The pitcher nodded, morosely. He was clearly unsure of how he was actually helping at all.

“Seeing you here, alive, is like taking that breath of fresh air I was waiting for then. Breathing doesn't hurt when I see you're doing just fine, standing next to me. Yeah, I'm always going to be reminded of losing you. But you're here. And you're alive. And that's enough to make the reminder worth it.”

“But it's hurting you.” Sawamura responded, voice tight. He sounded like he was about to cry. “Remembering it hurts you, even though I'm alive now.”

“So? How can I help it not hurt you?” He continued, reaching out to hold Kazuya's own wrist. Kazuya glanced at him, taking in the flushed, upset expression on his face and the wetness of his eyes. He considered what to say, shutting his eyes slowly and dropping his head to Sawamura's hand as he'd done before.

“I think, on some level, it's always going to hurt.”  Kazuya admitted. He heard Sawamura suck in a breath through his teeth, clearly unhappy with that response.

“There has to be something I can do!” He cried out, unhappily. “It's my fault you feel bad in the first place.”

“I told you before,” Kazuya interjected, somewhat annoyed, nails digging into Sawamura's wrist “it wasn't your fault. It happened to you, it sucks, but it wasn't your fault.”

“Still!!!” Sawamura snapped. “I was the one that died. I want to help you not… not think about it every time I say or do something stupid.”

“You say and do stupid things all the time" Kazuya pointed out, nudging Sawamura with his shoulder. “Not all of them remind me of you dying.”

“You know what I mean, Miyuki Kazuya!!”

“I know, I know.” Kazuya breathed in and out slowly as Sawamura fumed next to him. In a way, the other boy's dogged need to help was comforting. Like so many other things, it was a reminder that he was alive next to Kazuya, and that the horrific memories he had of his death were nothing more than a nightmare that would never come to pass now. For all that they still affected Kazuya, they had not happened. Would not happen, this time.

“I guess,” Kazuya started, softly “you can just do this. Be you – say stupid things. All I need is a reminder, from time to time. That you're alive.”

“Like last night?”  Sawamura asked, somewhat dubiously.

Kazuya chuckled weakly.

“Like last night, yeah. Like right now, really.” He pressed tellingly at Sawamura's pulse.

Sawamura hummed, as though considering. He pressed closer to Kazuya, tucking himself more tightly to his side. Kazuya could feel the heat of his breath fanning out by his shoulder.

“I can do that.” Sawamura said, finally, voice tight with determination. “But… Miyuki-senpai. What are we going to do when you leave? There's still a whole year before I get to Seido.”

Kazuya shuddered. The dread of parting from Sawamura after the next two days loomed dark.

“I don't know.” He admitted. “I really don't know.”     

Chapter Text

Kazuya woke up with a start. Sawamura's small room was dark around him. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He'd been dreaming, he knew. Something dark and anxious, pushed through his subconscious as his time in Nagano came ever closer to ending.

The return to the Sawamura home, the day before, had none of the cheeriness of the time they'd left in the morning. Both Sawamura and he had been quiet, and he'd been more or less unable to let go of Sawamura at all as they made their way back. Junko-san had thankfully not commented, but Kazuya knew the three adults in the house could tell something was not quite right the night before. Sawamura had been significantly subdued, but had stuck close to Kazuya as though it were second nature.

Kazuya did feel somewhat bad about it, but he couldn't deny it'd been a comfort. He glanced at Sawamura, asleep next to him in the guest futon. Despite how unwilling he'd been to let Sawamura go the day before, Kazuya had insisted they try to sleep separately – he couldn't allow himself to get used to having Sawamura within touching distance overnight.

It was no use though. After several hours of both of them lying stiff and unmoving, unable to fall asleep, Sawamura had bit out a muffled “Screw this,” and rolled off the bed, making his way to where Kazuya was lying in the guest futon, summarily ordering him to “shove over" and declaring they could “figure things out tomorrow." Kazuya could not argue, especially since he'd fallen asleep so much more easily with Sawamura next to him.    

He looked at Sawamura’s sleeping face. The pitcher was close enough Kazuya could make out the details of his features even without his glasses, including the dark lashes feathering his cheeks.

Carefully, gently, Kazuya brought up a hand, gingerly touching the other boy’s cheek with the back of his fingers. Sawamura’s skin was soft, and warm. He didn’t wake. He didn’t even react to the touch, though admittedly it had been light.

Kazuya huffed an amused breath, his touch becoming bolder. He gently went over the curve of Sawamura’s nose, withdrawing as the pitcher wrinkled his nose in response to the light touch.

Cute Kazuya thought absently. The dark anxiety that had pushed him into waking fading into a distant wariness of the days to come.

As Sawamura settled, he continued his light exploration of the pitcher’s features. Kazuya didn’t bother thinking closely about what he was doing. He was content, wrapped in the cocoon of warmth of the guest futon, taking the chance to map Sawamura’s features from up close. It was new, to be able to look at him this closely. In the field, in the dorms, he rarely had the need or the chance to be this close to Sawamura. In Kazuya’s own mind, they were at their best together when standing 18.44 meters apart. So it was interesting that this new, physical closeness felt just as natural, just as right.

Kazuya breathed out softly, watching Sawamura’s brow wrinkle as he pouted in his sleep. He wondered what the pitcher was dreaming about, to make such a dissatisfied expression. Fondness swelled in his chest as he reached out again to smooth one of Sawamura’s brows back into neatness. As he did so, Sawamura’s face twisted in response to the movement, and his eyes flickered open slowly, the vivid golden gaze freezing Kazuya in place. Sawamura’s eyes really were his best feature, Kazuya thought somewhat hysterically, flushing in embarrassment.

“Hmmm…” Sawamura hummed softly, nuzzling absently at Kazuya’s hand. “G’d mrrrng..”

Seeing as he apparently wasn’t bothered by the fact that Kazuya was basically petting him, the catcher gave up, resuming his movement and moving up into the pitcher’s soft dark hair.

“Morning.” He whispered back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Sawamura just breathed out in contentment, pushing back against Kazuya’s hand much like a dog would do in search of more pets. Kazuya smiled at the image of Sawamura dressed as a shiba inu that popped into his mind – he really was like a dog.

“What time is it?” Sawamura asked, blinking blearily at him.

Kazuya stopped petting his hair as he twisted to try and get a look at the bedside clock by Sawamura’s bed. He then realized the uselessness of the movement – he didn’t have his glasses on, and while Sawamura was close enough for him to see without them, all he could make out of the clock was a blurred red light where Sawamura’s bedside table was. If they were in Sawamura’s bed he could probably see the numbers a little more clearly, but unfortunately the guest futon was significantly lower than the bed, so it was no use squinting at the red blur.

“Don’t know. I can’t make out the numbers from here.”

Sawamura huffed out a breath in response.

“I forgot you’re blind without your glasses. Give me a minute.” He rubbed his eyes vigorously before flipping over and pushing himself up on his elbows so he could look at the little clock.

“Hmm.. Might be perfect timing actually.” Sawamura said, absently. He wasn’t looking at Kazuya. Then he started getting up.

“What? What do you mean?” Kazuya asked, somewhat bewildered. Was Sawamura planning to go running?

“Are you planning on going back to sleep?” Sawamura asked, without bothering to reply. He was pulling on a pair of sweats, dressing with surprising efficiency given what’d happened the day before.

“No, not really.” Kazuya responded, somewhat miffed at not getting a proper answer.

“Great!” Sawamura said with a decisive nod. “Get dressed and then come downstairs! I want to show you something but we can’t waste time!” Without waiting for a reply, Sawamura started getting dressed himself, dashing out of the room as soon as he was done with only a harsh “Hurry up!” whisper-shouted at Kazuya.

The catcher could only stare, perplexed, at the open door to the room. He considered ignoring Sawamura for a second, but then breathed out a resigned sigh and started getting up, pulling on his glasses so he could get dressed and go after his pitcher.

He made it downstairs in about 10 minutes, peeking into the kitchen in search of Sawamura.

The pitcher was standing by the counter, carefully filling a small thermos with just brewed dark, fragrant tea, going by the near full pot he was carefully tilting towards the opening of the thermos, tongue peeking out of his mouth in concentration. A second, closed thermos sat at the counter, likely already full.

Kazuya waited until Sawamura had placed the pot back on the counter and closed the thermos before coming closer and poking him in the back, delighting in the startled wiggle he got out of Sawamura.

“Geez, Miyuki Kazuya! Don’t just poke me out of nowhere! You could have just told me you were ready!” Sawamura huffed, brows furrowed in annoyance as he glared at Kazuya.

“What would be the fun in that?” Kazuya asked with a smirk. He nodded towards the two thermos. “What are those for?”

“It’s going to be pretty chilly where we’re going, this early in the morning. I figured it’d be good to have something warm to drink. I thought about making you coffee to take, but I wasn’t sure… after yesterday…” Sawamura trailed off, not looking at Kazuya.

Kazuya’s heart swelled with fondness, even as he inwardly grimaced at the reminder of the unfortunate misadventure with the coffee ice cream the day before. It was probably a good thing that Sawamura thought better of making coffee – Kazuya himself was unsure as to whether he’d be able to stomach the taste after the vivid flashbacks of the day before.

“Tea’s fine. Where exactly are we going, anyways? It’s still dark out.” It was true. It was ungodly early in the morning, they were probably still at least an hour out from a proper sunrise, and were it not for the anxiety that had woken him up Kazuya would probably have been happily ensconced in warm blankets, sleeping.

Sawamura beamed at him.

“It’s a surprise!” he chirped. “But we’ve gotta go, otherwise we’ll miss it! Come on!”

“Do your parents know we’re going wherever it is you’re dragging me?” Kazuya asked blandly as Sawamura started actively tugging him away from the kitchen. The full body freeze Sawamura performed at that question would have been impressive if it weren’t so comical.

He quickly let go of Kazuya, leaving him snickering at the threshold to the kitchen, holding the bag with the thermos bottles. He quickly came back with a little notepad, leaving what was presumably a folded up note explaining where they were going on top of the coffee pot, sure to be seen by the first person in the kitchen after them.

“Right! Now we can go.” Sawamura said with a satisfied nod.

Sawamura kept hurrying Kazuya as they got dressed into warm jackets. The two finally stepped out into a surprisingly cold morning, to a dark sky and surroundings filled with fog. Yellow streetlamps occasionally threw a warm halo of light over the darkened streets, the light reflecting into the fog causing everything around to take up a hazy glow.

Sawamura confidently led the way through the darkened streets, where few buildings showed any sign of activity – usually no more than a square of light representing a room with an awake occupant.

Sawamura kept a pretty quick pace, finally turning into a side road bordered by massive pine trees. The road climbed in a steady incline, up into the fog. Kazuya vaguely recognized it – it was the one Sawamura had pointed out the day before, the one with the trail that climbed towards the summit of Mt. Nishidake.  

Just as Kazuya thought about it, Sawamura turned into a wide walking trail, just off the narrow road. Despite the fog, it was easy to follow, though its incline was more dramatic than that of the road. A rope rail was at the right side, looped through iron rods that stuck out from the ground in regular intervals. It was certainly helpful for some of the steeper parts of the trail.

“I can’t believe you dragged me into mountain climbing before breakfast.” Kazuya whined, a little breathlessly as they finished climbing a decently steep section surrounded by massive boulders. The towering pines were all around them releasing a sharp fragrance into the cold air.

“Shut up, Miyuki Kazuya” Sawamura retorted, rolling his eyes. “It’ll be worth it!” The pitcher wasn’t even winded. That stamina really wasn’t fair.

The pair resumed their climb, and, while it wasn’t actually that strenuous a trail, Kazuya was pretty relieved once the slope gentled. They passed through a large set of pine trees growing evenly spaced on either side of the trail, only to step through the last pair to a wide opening on the side of the mountain. Half hidden by the fog, Kazuya could see the wide gate of a temple. The more interesting thing though was the large clearing before the temple, with a very wide wooden deck at one end, looking over the side of the mountain. This, then, would be where the town’s festivals would be held.

The wooden deck overlooking the mountain had a sturdy rail, and Kazuya could see benches at a couple of different points around its length. Sawamura made his way through the clearing, up onto the deck, happily choosing one of the benches overlooking the darkness below. The sky was starting to lighten ahead of them, but the sun had not yet cropped over the mountains.

“Is the temple even open?” Kazuya asked as he sat next to Sawamura.

“Not yet. But I didn’t bring you here so you could see the temple. Look, we had perfect timing!” Sawamura pointed out to where the sky was starting to lighten.

Indeed, Kazuya barely had the time to look out to where Sawamura was pointing. Seemingly as soon as he turned his head, the sun started cropping out from behind the mountains and everything before him changed.

The whole world seemed bathed in a golden glow. The darkened space below became awash with the bright light of dawn. The light bathed the fog rising from the trees as a warm haze, and it was as if the landscape itself was on fire, though with none of the heat. The light reflected off the peaks of the pine trees, and the pale plum and apricot blossoms on the flowering trees dotted throughout the landscape flared like bright torches due to their much lighter hues.

It was breathtaking. Kazuya had seen sunrises before, of course he had, but nothing quite like this.

“So?” Sawamura asked, and even without looking at him Kazuya just knew he’d have a shit eating grin all over his face. “Worth it?”

Kazuya could only laugh a little breathlessly, not taking his eyes off the sight before them.

“Yeah.” He finally replied, turning to look at where Sawamura was also bathed in that dawning light, eyes flashing gold in the sunlight. “Definitely worth it.” Sawamura smiled back at him before turning back to the sunrise ahead of them.

“You know, Miyuki-senpai. I think, in the end, we’re going to be okay. I know you said you'll always remember me dying, but I think, with enough time, it's going to be easier to remember I'm alive than to remember I died before!”

He turned, beaming at Kazuya once again.

“Remembering I'm here and it didn't happen this time is going to be as easy as remembering the sun rises in the morning! And I can promise that as long as the sun keeps rising, I’m also going to keep going, too!”

Kazuya stared at Sawamura. He couldn’t control his grin, something inside him settling at Sawamura’s ridiculous certainty that everything would work out just because he wished it so.

“You know, the sun is definitely going to outlive both of us, so there’s no point in saying that. Really, Sawamura, are you an idiot?”

“GEH! I was trying to be reassuring! REASSURING, Miyuki Kazuya!!!”

Kazuya just laughed at him.