Chapter Text
1. Kanemaru Shinji
Let it be known that despite his generosity and self-sacrifice for the team, that Shinji wouldn’t jump at the chance to babysit Sawamura. Grudgingly he'll admit that Sawamura is his friend, a source of inspiration for the team and him personally (very very personally for Takatsu), and is an irreplaceable member of Seidou's baseball team.
But good lord does their personalities clash. Sawamura is a walking, talking (screaming really) open book, who shares anything and everything about himself. He'll talk to anyone who'll listen, and even to those who wouldn't. He has the girls in their class on the palm of his hand, and even people exasperated with the loud-mouthed idiot does so with underlying fondness.
And that's because Sawamura's noises have evolved from garbled screams to firm encouragement, well-timed call outs, and something the team looks forward to. The word mood maker was meant for Sawamura Eijun.
But again, as much as Shinji appreciates his overall presence, he does so in moderation. Most of the time he'll pass Sawamura to either Kominato his permanent caretaker, or saddle him with Furuya so that he'll have no choice but be Furuya's babysitter.
It was Thursday after school that Shinji would regret not fulfilling that very duty. The rain was coming down hard, pelting the classroom window and the clouds overhead cast a dreary atmosphere all around. Even from a glance anyone could tell practice would be canceled until the weather cleared, and that the coaches would assign them light workouts instead. And yet there still exists one moron, who self-proclaimed himself as the harbinger of sunlight, that refused to acknowledge the deteriorating weather.
"I," Shinji says, holding out his hand. "Am going to stop you right there. I'm not going to run through the rain to the dorm with you."
"But-" Sawamura whines.
"No. Nope. Zip it."
"But Kanemaru," He drools on anyway. "I'm sure the rain will let up as soon as I step outside! Please, you're the only one I can ask to practice with."
Guilt worms in his heart. He knows Sawamura's taken his new responsibilities as Ace very seriously, and that he's been putting every second he has into improving his pitching, batting and fielding. But Shinji thinks back to the pile of laundry he hasn't bothered to wash yet and steeps his heart. He can't afford to soak his last pair of school uniform. He crosses his arm and shakes his head with a sense of finality. "Just wait until it calms down, alright?"
Sawamura pouts, before crossing his own arms. "Fine! Be that way! I'll go by myself then."
"Oi!" Shinji calls out, but Sawamura's already huffing and puffing his way out of 2-B.
Rolling his eyes, Shinji fiddles with his phone to text Tojou, a scowl on his face. "Dumbass. He better borrow an umbrella."
Sawamura did not borrow an umbrella.
In fact, he ran all the way from the school building to their dorms, screaming as he clutched his school bag and covering himself with only his school jacket.
To the surprise of everyone, Sawamura comes down with a cold.
"Is this even possible?" Kuramochi says in mock horror. "Does a disease really exist that can penetrate the age-old plot armor of being an absolute dumbass?"
"Eijun," Kominato says gently as he pushes a packet of tissue across the table. "Please don't rub snot all over your shirt."
Miyuki rubs the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "Take it as a warning that you're not as invincible as you think you are Ace . Rest up and come back in perfect shape."
Sawamura sniffles and blows into his newly acquired tissue.
Shinji bites his lip. There it is again, guilt stirring in his stomach. He feels like he's somehow failed the team and his own friend. When everyone disbands from the cafeteria, off to practice on their own, Shinji excuses himself from Tojou to set a warm can of lemon green tea in front of Sawamura.
The pitcher blinks up at him in question.
Shinji scratches the back of his head with a grunt. "It's what I like to drink when I get sick alright? Unclogs your nose or whatever."
Sawamura takes it into his hand with a soft gasp of awe. "Thanks, Kanemaru!"
Shinji winces at how rough and cracked his voice is. Sawamura's throat by far received the biggest brunt from his cold. "Yeah yeah, just rest up stupid."
Sawamura nods, pressing the can to his cheek. He sighs as the warmth seeps into his skin. "I'm just glad I didn't drag you with me after all. You would've gotten sick too! Sorry, Kanemaru."
Ugh. Ugh!
Kanemaru clutches his heart. Curse Sawamura's inherent talent of being a swell guy. Who gave him the right to be this good? Someone out there in the world must be pure evil to balance Sawamura's existence.
"Just shut up and drink up!" He yells.
Sawamura nods vigorously, opening the can and taking small sips until he realizes it fits his palate, as all things not natto, and takes bigger gulps.
"Slow down you'll burn-"
"Mm!" Sawamura cries out, poking his tongue out with tears in his eyes. "Kamemaru, I buwned my towngue!"
"Tag up!" He yells out loud. "Kominato where the hell are you, take over!"
And it begins.
Over the next few days, Sawamura's cold is reduced to the occasional sniffle and sneeze. But his sore throat remains stubbornly. Coach Kataoka strictly limits him to half his usual pitch count, no running, and explicit orders to drink vitamins and plenty of fluids.
The sore throat has gotten so bad that Sawamura can't even talk properly. When he does it's barely above a whisper and is always scratchy.
For a while, that means more peace and quiet than usual. There's no one screaming on top of his lungs about how excited he is for practice, no whoops from the bullpen, no whines, and no yells to use his hips more.
There's less fuss all around.
And for a while, Shinji relished in it, enjoyed the silence and the way Sawamura had doubled down.
But then on Saturday morning, a local high school arranges a doubleheader against the first string. They're not as big as Seidou, and the baseball team has only been established for a few years. By all accounts it would be an easy game that serves to smooth out their overall performance and for the other team to gain experience.
And they're losing. They're down one count, but the fact that they could get two runs out of them speaks volumes to their performance today. Coach Kataoka looked tense, and Shinji could already tell the moment the game ended they wouldn't return to their dorms until they caught every single ball the man batted.
Furuya had his by now predictable rocky start, but he did his best to stabilize on the second inning. Perhaps high on the opportunity to play such a strong opponent, Hachioji batted through Furuya's pitches with little to no fear. Some were even brave enough to crowd the plate.
Even as Miyuki called for the difficult to hit splitter and sliders, one fastball down the middle was enough for a double and a run for the walked batter before him. Their dugout had screamed as if they'd just won a ticket to nationals.
Coach Kataoka made Furuya switch Kawakami right after, in hopes they'd get staggered by the pitcher's different form.
As if running from a high, their clean up and captain hit a sinker that went too high, ensuing in a one-run homer.
Bottom of the seventh inning and they were up to bat. Kawakami tried to smile reassuringly, but they all knew he was disappointed in himself. He held his regained sinker very highly after all. Even Miyuki was quiet as he glanced at the practically glowing Hachioji pitcher and rowdy fielders.
The captain turned to him and Tojou, but he couldn't seem to muster the words. Shinji understood how he was after two years together on the same team. Miyuki was sharp with methodical and rigid pitchers, and he could read the plays their opponents wanted to perform within a few innings.
But even he couldn't grasp a team spurred with adrenaline and sheer willpower that didn't adhere to logic. Eerily, Shinji is reminded of their game with Ugumori.
Shinji was about to offer a half-hearted assurance that he'd definitely get a hit on the plate, but a loud squeaking noise interrupted him.
Eyes twitching he turned to see the lone player on the dugout that day that hadn't stepped on the diamond. Sawamura was using a marker to scribble furiously on the whiteboard in his lap. Judging by Umemoto's exasperated glance he must've nabbed the board they used to keep track of the dugout's use.
"Oi, Wamura, what are you doing? This isn't art class." Secretly, Shinji was grateful for the distraction. Just a little bit, okay?!
Sawamura exhaled with a huff and proudly showed his work to the class.
Kominato cracked first, giggling into Furuya's shoulder. Their resident monster's aura erupted like a volcano, lashing out at anyone near him.
"Wha-" Shinji choked. "Wha…"
Tojou, his light and shining beacon in this cold world, backed him up. "Sawamura is that…"
Sawamura nodded with a grin. Well Shinji assumed he did, he still had a mask on.
Yui analyzed the whiteboard like it contained their winning game plan, eyes shining with mirth. "Is that supposed to be the scoreboard, Sawamura-senpai?"
Sawamura nodded once more, giving him a thumbs up.
"Seriously? I thought he drew a waffle or something."
"Eh? I thought he wanted to play Sudoku."
Kuramochi clicked his tongue, but Shinji could see that the dugout drew themselves into Sawamura's space, the tension in their bodies already melting.
Sawamura pouted, tapping the marker like one of their frustrated substitute teachers.
"Let's see," Tojou leaned in, humoring him. "I see, so basically you want the game to end with the score 4-9?"
Sawamura nodded, giving Tojou a thumbs up.
Umemoto gasped out loud. "Huh?! You do realize we're in the seventh inning, don't you?"
Maezono gaped at Sawamura, and even Shirasu stirred from where he wiped down his bat. "S-Sawamura let's calm down here…"
"So you're saying," Kuramochi gritted out. "You want us to prove ourselves. Is that it?"
Sawamura raised an eyebrow, as if to say, of course, we're Seidou aren't we?
In unison, individual auras alight making the dugout's temperature rise at least ten degrees.
"Eight more points?" Shirasu said, sending a chill down Shinji's spine. "How humble. At least write down a double-digit."
Kuramochi cracked his knuckles, a murderous glint in his eyes. "Yeah you brat! Are you underestimating us?! Huh?!"
"Well…" Coach Ochiai drools out, making heads swivel to where he sat. He stroked the small bit of hair in his chin, glancing at them with a side eye. "For once, I agree with Sawamura. Frankly we're humiliating ourselves."
Silence. Shinji shivered as he took a glance of Maezono's face. He's only ever seen Maezono make that face when their bases are purposefully loaded to face him.
"Win," Coach Ochiai remarked as if he was talking about the slightly warm weather. "Like you're a nationally ranked team."
Coach Kataoka smiled.
Like they're a-Shinji gaped at Tojou. He flinched when Tojou's bemused face had been replaced with a deep frown and clenched teeth. Kominato had shifted in his feet, clutching his wooden bat.
The tension in the dugout was cut with a boisterous laugh, and they all turned wide-eyed to Miyuki, who was leaning against the fence crossing his arms. "It seems our Ace has ordered a shutdown game everyone."
Sawamura tapped his marker against the whiteboard once more, taunting them.
Tojou grabbed his bat and climbed out the dugout without looking back. "Get ready Shinji."
Startled, he scrambled for a helmet and his bat. "R-right."
"I'm going to hit a double," Tojou says, his voice airy. "Get me home in one hit."
Breath hitched, and frankly a little aroused, Shinji nodded. "Y-yeah-yup."
Tojou smiled.
As promised he hit a double right off the bat, Hachioji's pitcher looking lost as his first pitch flew over the second baseman's head. Shinji, in a daze, hit another double right after, easily bringing Tojou home. Even as they came back the dugout didn't cheer for them. All of them either sat or stood with stoic faces, determination in their eyes.
Only Miyuki smiled as he looked out the field.
4-5 in their favor. Sawamura hummed.
Kawakami adjusted his hat, rotating his arm as he stepped up. "I'm throwing only sinkers this inning."
Miyuki laughed as Okumura strapped him to his catcher gear. "Sounds like a plan."
Kawakami struck out each and every one of their batters. It was as if a different team had emerged from the dugout. Furuya's aura was still aflame as he glanced between Kawakami and Sawamura, with only Kominato holding him back.
Bottom of the eight, top of their order up.
Kuramochi didn't say a word as he looked at the kneeling Kominato. They simply nodded at each other. The pitch came, they swung, and just like that they had the bases loaded.
Up to bat Miyuki strapped in his glove. Sawamura tapped his marker.
"Heh," Their captain hissed with a grin. "You sure are tough on us."
Sawamura shrugged, and Shinji remembered then. This was Sawamura, who in the face of stronger opponents and pinch situations, still shouted his encouragement to the fielders behind him, and turned to share a cunning smile with Miyuki as they whispered their nasty plots to each other.
"Just sit there and wait," The moment he turned, all traces of a smile were wiped off. Shinji felt his knee buckle. "Like a boss that is."
As if sharing an inside joke, Sawamura's body shook with soundless laughter.
Miyuki hit a two-run home run. Following him, their batter exploded hitting home runs left and right.
Hachioji's pitcher looked like he could stand in as the chalk they used to line the grass.
They won 4-18.
Without dropping their bats, taking off their helmets, or even wiping their sweat, they all turned to Sawamura expectantly.
Cheekily, Sawamura traced the lopsided nine in his drawing and turned it into an eighteen.
Even Shinji could admit that felt even more satisfying than the eighteen in their scoreboard.