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The house was empty. It was always empty when he got home, his dad was working overtime. Kazuya toed off his shoes and lined them perfectly next to the wall like his mother had taught him. He left his backpack on a kitchen chair, grabbed the first aid kit from one of the cupboards and locked himself in the bathroom. He took a quick shower, biting his split lip and hissing a laugh when the water stung the various other cuts on his body. He rubbed the soap into his skin, feeling for the places that soon would bloom with purple bruises. There were so many.
He'd kept his head under the showerhead for longer than necessary, breathing, just breathing, with eyes closed and mouth open, soaking in the pain. He was used to it. It didn't even hurt anymore. Not when he knew he never deserved it, not when he knew they had no right to do this, not when he knew he was stronger than them all. This was nothing.
He cut off the water and dried himself quickly, leaving only his hair wet for the moment. He took the kit, closed the toilet and set up shop. He looked in the mirror and his reflection stared at him with fathomless eyes.
Kazuya laughed. Only a breath of laughter, a single syllable, lacking amusement and not reaching his eyes, but he laughed.
His cheek was swollen and reddening fast. The cut on his lip stung and Kazuya was pretty sure he'd have trouble speaking the next few days. His right eye was black and blue, and when he blinked he could feel the unnatural heaviness and the heat of his eyelid. His arms were covered in more marks, angry and finger-shaped, scratches here and there. A few others on his chest and back, and a huge bruise on his thigh from a strong, careless kick.
Kazuya's skin was pale even after hours of playing baseball outside during the summer and the bloodshot marks stood out against it. But as if to contrast their obnoxious hue, his skin poisoned golden, the colour of sun-warmed sand on the beach. Kazuya watched his bruises shimmer in the bathroom light as if they contained glitter sparkles.
He knew what they were. He'd seen them before. The soulmate marks.
When he was younger he used to get them all the time. It seemed like his mate was clumsy and got bruised every day in at least three places. His mom used to say Kazuya would have to watch over them when they meet in the future. But now, as Kazuya looked at the bruises reflected in the mirror, it was definitely not what his mother predicted.
The glimmering marks on his body were scarce now, replaced by his own ugly bruises, as if his skin couldn't stand being its natural colour.
"A soulmate, huh..."
His voice was quiet like a whisper. Kazuya couldn't help a sour quirk of his lips, which made the skin around the cut pull uncomfortably. I bet they hate me for always shimmering gold like that...
The rubbing alcohol stung more than the few tears that rolled down his cheeks, but Kazuya only gritted his teeth. Like he always did.
Like gold dust, the bruises from his soulmate disappeared completely with time and without their silent comfort Kazuya felt a bit colder, a bit... alone. His own bruises became less as well when he moved onto his third year in middle school. No one laid a hand on him anymore and Kazuya dreaded the thought of becoming a punching bag in only a year. There was nothing he could do about it, though. Nothing but hope something will change.
And it did.
With a loud-mouthed idiot who barged in on their practice session during the spring of Kazuya's first year at Seidou. There was something about the kid that immediately made Kazuya notice the sudden shift in him, something other than the obvious taunting of a much larger, much scarier Azuma. It was intangible and Kazuya was a little frustrated that he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was, and even more surprised that he cared at all.
Because he shouldn't.
The kid was just a kid whom he had never met, so why was he so interested? Why was he willing to go to the trouble of catching for him?
Ah, Kazuya thought, while the sun shone behind the kid's back and he lifted his leg to throw the first pitch way off course. His form is unique. His eyes are glowing too bright. A bright gold like the marks that used to show up on my skin.
Maybe that was why Kazuya found him interesting, maybe that was what made him cling to the snippet of feeling he got around the kid, the curious emotions he couldn't give a name to. Because when the kid was gone, he took them with him, the peaceful warmth and breath like a relaxing sigh, he took it with him and Kazuya knew the difference now. He knew there was something more to those golden eyes, which looked like muddy leaves in autumn or dirty, dark amber, but he neither had the time nor the patience to figure it out.
The kid was a mystery and Kazuya left him as such. After all, mysteries were only appealing until you uncovered the disappointing truth behind them.
Like: why was Kuramochi running next to him, panting with laughter and sneaking glances at Kazuya's face? Kazuya ignored it, ignored it hard. And then he couldn't. His eyebrow twitched.
"What?" he asked, even though he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Kuramochi howled then, stopping to bend in half and catch his breath, which wasn't easy since he was still laughing.
"You..." he choked out with tears in his eyes. His hand found Kazuya's shoulder and the grin that was shot at Kazuya was a nasty one. "Seems like your mate's a real player, getting slapped on the face and all."
Kazuya blinked. Then snorted. And moved on.
Later, true to Kuramochi's word, he found a hand shaped golden mark on his left cheek. It was the first one in a long time and Kazuya almost smiled at his reflection in the mirror before he remembered he had to wear it until the one on his mate's cheek disappeared. But at least it wasn't his bruise, at least it was his mate's... at least it was there at all.
Shimmering with hope, golden and too pretty to be a slap mark.
At least his soulmate was there.
Almost a déjà vu, a dream he'd seen before, a picture behind the veil of time, the kid showed up again.
Sawamura Eijun.
The name strung the cord of Kazuya's past and the feelings he'd already forgotten all about returned as if they never even left. And Kazuya was unable to stay away.
There was a pull, strange, invisible string that led his thoughts to Sawamura. He found himself getting closer to the first year, closer than he'd ever gotten with anyone. Laughing at him, teasing him, watching his face brighten at praise, eyes squint in anger, mouth open to shout. Kazuya was never interested in anyone this way. He checked up on his pitchers, it was his job, but never like this.
Sawamura seemed to be an exception, a variable that Kazuya hadn't counted on, and it intrigued him.
Without realizing, he found himself dragged off to catch for Sawamura after practice. He found Sawamura in crowds during lunch hour. He found him on the field late at night, running with his tire, and chased him back to the dorms to rest.
What was he doing, Kazuya himself didn't know. He'd never felt anything like this... friendship? It was different from Kuramochi's casual presence, different from Nori's quiet companionship, different from Zono's brash demeanour. It made Kazuya's chest tight with excitement, breathless with laughter and expectation. Because no matter what Sawamura had to offer, it was always something Kazuya looked forward to.
"Miyuki-senpai!" The loud voice made a corner of Kazuya's lips lift in a quirked smile. "Catch for me!"
"Eh?" Kazuya rolled his shoulder. "Don't wanna."
The outraged screech made him stifle laughter. He enjoyed Sawamura Eijun. Very much.
When new golden marks started showing up again, Kazuya almost didn't notice. Practice was getting hard in preparation for the upcoming Tournament and juggling that and Sawamura's persistent need to have him catch after hours left Kazuya exhausted and half-asleep in the bath. So he missed the shadows of bruises on his skin, until there were so many they glared him in the eye challengingly, as if daring him to overlook them.
Kazuya's fingers ran across the gold glimmering across his calves and thighs, across the careful shimmer on his hands and even more of them on his chest and arms. They were all small, nothing that would do a lot of damage, but there were too many for it to be accidental.
Kazuya worried.
What if his mate was getting bullied? Kazuya knew what it meant, what it looked like. What if they were abused? The signs were there. And he couldn't help them, he didn't know how. He wanted to, and couldn't.
Kazuya chewed on his lip.
But maybe it wasn't that bad? Maybe they were just frail? Maybe they bruised easily? He tried to tell himself that if it got worse, he would come up with a plan. If it got worse...
Kazuya acted like it was all fine and carried on.
And the marks stayed, old ones replaced by new ones, his skin always tainted gold.
"You're gonna kill me, Sawamura," he mumbled while his tired body soaked in lukewarm water of the bath after another late night spent catching overtime.
Sawamura was half-sleeping on the other end, sprawled over the edge. His back was turned to Kazuya and Kazuya could see the lean muscles of his shoulders, the dark freckles on the tanned skin, the sharp dip of his spine, even with his tired eyes. He wasn't wearing glasses and his vision was blurry, but the freckles stood out to him, like tiny black diamonds in golden sand... He had to blink when the diamonds turned into blue and purple creatures, crawling across the sand, and Kazuya blinked, frowning.
Sawamura's body, now that Kazuya looked closer, was covered with small bruises. From sliding on bases, from falling during a run, from kicking his shins when his legs were too exhausted to comply with his movements.
The water was getting cold, but neither of them moved.
Kazuya's eyes slipped from Sawamura's body to his own. The gold on his skin looked even more radiant underwater and he found similar marks on his calves, thighs, chest, arms... Similar. But he couldn't tell if they were the same. He was too far, too sleepy. Even the rush of soulmate in his blood didn't help his mind clear. Almost as if it was clouded with the vapours from the bath that they never really got to see, Kazuya's mind struggled.
He shifted closer to Sawamura, but the first year was half-dead anyway and didn't notice. But Kazuya noticed. He noticed that the shapes, the sizes, the placement of Sawamura's bruises – black and blue and purple and old, yellow and green – was exactly the same as the bleeding gold on his own body. Suddenly, in the almost empty bathhouse, Kazuya found it hard to breathe.
That pull, his avid interest in Sawamura, the feelings, it all made sense now.
His skin tingled with the realization and Kazuya's fingers twitched in his lap as if they wanted him to touch Sawamura's bruises, to make sure they were real, to make sure he was... Kazuya's. But he knew the truth anyway, deep in his bones, like you could sometimes tell it would rain without watching the weather forecast, like it was instinctual, and he just knew.
But even if that was the case, he still wanted to touch. So he lifted his arm, water dropping steadily and he reached over, his hand close, close, closer... The brush of skin under his fingers felt sinful, as if he was doing something he wasn't supposed to, as if he was breaking the unspoken rules, and a rush of adrenaline made Kazuya's head spin. His breath got stuck in his chest and he slid his hand across Sawamura's– Eijun's, Kazuya thought almost trembling, drugged on the sensation filling his heart – bicep with reverence.
His.
Eijun was his.
His soulmate.
His one and only–
"Senpai...?"
Dirty amber eyes blinked at him blearily, and Kazuya snatched his hand away. His heart jumped to his throat and choked on all the words that weren't even there. Sawamura yawned, barely managing to cover his mouth.
"I almost fell asleep," he said, smiling a bit at Kazuya in that sleepy way that was far too innocent, too cute, too soft. "Thanks for waking me up."
Before Kazuya could as much as wrap his mind around the screaming stream of disconnected words – mate! tell! stop! soulmate! speak up! Eijun – he had missed his opportunity completely. Eijun stood up, stretched his arms above his head, his spine snapping, shoulder blades pushing out the skin, towel riding low on the hips that were almost in Kazuya's line of sight...
"Should be heading back," Eijun yawned again. "Don't stay in too long, senpai, you'll get all wrinkled."
Eijun was teasing, but Kazuya was too distracted to rise to the bait. He let him leave, blindly staring into the water, which was already cold, but he couldn't feel it with the way his heart was pounding the hot like fire blood through his body.
His soulmate.
His soulmate.
Eijun.
Laying in his bed that night, Kazuya's mind was swirling.
He should have spoken up, he should have choked the words out right then in the tub. It would have stopped Eijun from leaving. And it would have stopped Kazuya from this, this claustrophobic state of overthinking he'd found himself in as he stayed tucked closely against the wall in his bunk, unseeingly staring at the cracks in white paint.
But what would he say? What could he say?
Nothing.
His throat being unable to process words was the least of his problems when he didn't even know what he wanted to say. What he was supposed to say.
Because no matter what he craved, what his heart believed he'd found, he might not be Eijun's soulmate.
Oh, Eijun was his mate, that Kazuya was certain of. It just explained everything perfectly, made all he'd felt since the day they'd met fit like a puzzle Kazuya's fingers were too clumsy to put together before, but now with a clear image of his soulmate they moved on their own as if they knew each piece by heart. His sudden, alien feelings, that weird pull he'd felt around Eijun almost as if Kazuya was a planet in the solar system where the brightest and biggest of stars was him, drawing Kazuya in like a supernova ready to burst; all of it felt good and welcoming and right. Kazuya wanted to doubt, he'd always thought he'd need more proof than that, but when he closed his eyes Eijun's grinning face imprinted on his irises was enough to make him believe.
But Eijun...
Kazuya had his fair share of bruises, everyone on the team did, and now that he was dry and in his bed, he blamed himself for not checking if Eijun's skin bore any marks other than his own black and blue indications of hard training.
Because he should have them if he was Kazuya's mate. But if he didn't... If he didn't...
Kazuya's chest tightened and he took a shaky breath, half exasperated, half just tired. It was no use thinking of this. Eijun wasn't his. And he will never be his, Kazuya decided. Not until Kazuya sees his bruises on Eijun's skin, not until he can touch them and make sure they are real.
Which wouldn't happen soon.
He wasn't about to walk up to the first year and lift his shirt up, after all. The thought made Kazuya snort at himself, because, really? He would do it. Just to see Eijun's outraged, flushed face. And maybe sate his own desire of seeing his skin up close again.
Groaning, Kazuya smashed his pillow on his face.
He didn't have the right to tell Eijun. He didn't have the right, just in case he wasn't Eijun's soulmate. Because if he told him, if they, by some kind of miracle, started dating... what would happen when Eijun meets his true soulmate? What would happen to them? To him, to Kazuya? He would be discarded like an unneeded piece of furniture during a move and selfishly, Kazuya didn't want to ever feel that.
So he decided to keep his discovery a secret, his little guilty secret, and remain Eijun's... friend... for a while longer. If he didn't get closer, he wouldn't get hurt if it all burned to ashes, he convinced himself. If you don't invest yourself in something, you won't lose anything.
But you also won't gain shit in return, a small voice at the back of his head pointed out, reminding him strangely of Kuramochi, but Kazuya ignored it as he fell asleep, too tired to find counterarguments.
He just hoped it would work.
It didn't.
Kazuya laughed at his own naiveté. He was falling for Eijun, fast and hard. Even when he tried not to. Even when he struggled and fought against it, his heart was deaf to his pleas and stubborn.
His smiles curled fondly when the pitcher made an idiot out of himself, his eyes gleamed brightly when a pitch they've practiced together for weeks finally hit the spot he'd signalled for, his chest grew hot when the first year carelessly paraded shirtless in the sweltering late summer heat.
He worried when Eijun's eyes looked dull in practice. He frowned when Eijun shrugged Kazuya's arm off of his shoulders without raising to his teasing. He felt a guilty stab in his chest when Eijun's face turned to him in anger and silent frustration.
Kazuya didn't mean to let Eijun control his feelings this way, he didn't want to make it that easy. But he couldn't stop it. It was almost like his reactions were conditioned a long time ago, like he was a dog trained by his owner to crave that which he couldn't have, without his say in it, and now he could only watch it all play out, helpless. His lips were sealed with fear and hesitation, though, and not a word of what hid in his heart slipped past them for which Kazuya was glad. Just because he couldn't control the pull, the frenzied thrum of soulmate in his veins whenever he looked at Eijun, it didn't mean he couldn't control the rest of him.
And everything would have been fine, Kazuya would have dealt with it one way or another, if only they didn't grow.
Closer.
Faster.
More intimate.
They spent long hours honing Eijun's pitches. Kazuya ended up helping Eijun study. Hanging out on Kazuya's bed when the rest played video games or lazed around.
Talking. Whispering. Snickering.
Eijun's breath on Kazuya's cheek, caressing his jaw, sending pricks of a shiver across his neck and down, down to his spine, which made his shoulders and heart tremble. Eijun's hair tickling Kazuya's chin when the first year fell asleep against his shoulder. Kazuya turning his head to check why it was so quiet and finding his mouth only inches from Eijun's, breathing, panicking, hesitating.
Kazuya's heart hammered like it had never done before. Not when his mother died, not when he fought the upperclassmen, not when he first realized Eijun was his. It battered against his ribcage then, but now... Now it was different, but somehow the same, but so different, and Kazuya's head was too small to wrap around it, his throat was too tight to breathe through it and he choked on it as if it was poisonous gas and not just...
Distance was the only thing that could help him, he knew. So he put some between them.
It wasn't a good idea with the Fall Tournament underway, but Kazuya risked it. And it failed spectacularly, because even when he was away, his mind continued to swirl with the mist that Eijun had unknowingly spread there, like a fog that brought him out in the same place he'd left, like a complex web with all the threads leading to the centre, to the one and only thing that mattered – his soulmate.
Kazuya was tired. Tired of running, of pretending that Eijun's smiles meant nothing to him, that his skin didn't burn when Eijun touched him, that he didn't put his arm around Eijun because of ulterior motives. But even when he was at the end of his patience, he was too much of a coward to tell Eijun the truth. Bile rose up his throat, his chest tightened and vision swam, and Kazuya fell mute every time he considered coming out with his secret. It wasn't like Eijun had noticed anything, he convinced himself, bitter about being alone in his suffering.
But wasn't that what he wanted? Didn't he himself decide that?
He had.
But he wanted Eijun to notice anyway.
Not like this, Kazuya thought.
Not like that.
His ribs were throbbing. His chest was hot, burning, and for once it had nothing to do with Eijun, who was standing in the door of his dorm room. His face was blank, completely white and void of expression and Kazuya sat up straighter in alarm, wincing when his muscles protested.
It was late and Kazuya was ready to call it a night when Eijun burst inside. They haven't spoken since the bus ride, Kazuya avoiding everyone's attention all afternoon. He had a fever, probably. Not only his chest, but also his stomach and face were hot now and breathing was just a tad bit harder. Especially when Eijun stepped into the room, quiet, so unnaturally quiet Kazuya's skin crawled with unease. He closed the door quietly, the click foreboding and dark in the silence of the room, before he turned Kazuya's way and their eyes met.
Dirty amber was something Kazuya was used to. Bright gold as well, when Eijun was pitching. But this dark, unreadable look was unfamiliar to him and Kazuya felt lost, not knowing what to do, how to act, what to say–
"Lift up your shirt," Eijun said, standing a few steps away and not coming closer.
His gaze was focused on Kazuya, though, as if he could see every twitch in his muscles. As if he could look right through him and his lies. Kazuya resisted the urge to shift in place.
"What for?" he asked, feigning normalcy, even if his insides felt like burning charcoal – hot and burning and falling apart. "If it's about that slide in–"
"Just lift up your shirt," Eijun cut him off.
Kazuya's mouth clamped shut. He didn't move, just watched Eijun, whose patience was clearly running thin. He was upset, Kazuya realized, but he didn't understand why.
"It's not such a big deal," Kazuya said, softer than he intended, almost as if he was dealing with a spooked animal and trying to calm it down. "There's only some light bruising–"
"Really?"
Poison. Eijun's voice hissed like acid burning through steel and Kazuya's heart froze in his chest before it was forcefully jumpstarted by Eijun coming closer. Gold was burning into him, bright and angry, so angry Kazuya had to resist the urge to shrink back on himself. Because that anger, the flames locked in Eijun's eyes, it was directed at him and the part of his heart that was inherently latched onto his soulmate screamed in pain far greater than the sting in his abused ribs.
Eijun tugged his own shirt up with impatient fingers. "Then what is this?"
Kazuya had seen his chest before. He never looked close enough in fear of losing his cool and he didn't want to look now, but Eijun's gaze demanded he looked. Gulping, Kazuya let his eyes slide from Eijun's face, down, down, down...
It was huge. The mark spilled over Eijun's side, bathing the skin on his ribs in gold. Kazuya stared at it, breathless, frozen, shaking on the inside. It matched perfectly with the bruise on his own chest, a proof, painful proof that Eijun was his and he was Eijun's. Kazuya took a shaky breath, pain stabbing his lungs and making him dizzy.
He couldn't look Eijun in the eye. He had to calm down. Sort out himself first before he could continue this... whatever it was.
But Eijun didn't wait. He never waited for a goddamned thing. He always took what he wanted and right then he wanted Kazuya.
"It's the same," Eijun spat, no hint of hesitation in his posture. "Isn't it."
He wasn't asking, but Kazuya nodded at him numbly. His lips seemed to have stopped working, frozen on the trembling setting until Kazuya pursed them in a tight line.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Eijun's voice was still hard, but there was a hint of despair in it now as well. Helpless. Frustrated. "Why didn't you tell anyone? A bruise like that may have complications. You have to be checked out properly or–"
Kazuya snorted in absolute shock. His incredulous eyes met Eijun's and Kazuya just blurted out on a rushed breath:
"You find out I'm your soulmate and that's what you're worried about?"
Eijun flicked his forehead.
Kazuya reared his head back, muffling a yelp at the sudden pain. He glared, Eijun glared back.
"There will be time later," Eijun replied. "For now I just need to make sure you're okay enough to argue about that."
"I'm fine," Kazuya protested. "There's nothing–"
"You're not fine," Eijun cut him off, angry again. "You're not fine," he repeated a little softer. "You're my soulmate, for fuck's sake, don't do this to me."
Kazuya's eyes jumped to Eijun's and for the first time he could fully see inside them: to the hurt, the pain, the uncertainty. And he was the reason for it. Something other than his side panged in his chest and he realized it was guilt.
"I'm sorry," Kazuya found himself saying and really meaning it, too. "But I told you before, it's just a bruise. I'm fine. I can play and I will play until we get our ticket to Koushien."
"But you will tell me if it gets worse?" Eijun's gaze was sharp. "You will tell the coach if it gets worse?"
Kazuya didn't have to answer. Eijun knew anyway. There was no way Kazuya would tell anyone, even if he was coughing up blood.
A hand clutched Kazuya's forearm, hard, hot, unrelenting. Eijun was bending down, his face close to Kazuya's, close enough to feel his breath on his lips.
"What's the point then? What's the point of me being your soulmate when you won't even trust me?"
Kazuya wanted to say I do, but did he really? Did he trust Eijun? He did on the field, even if he would never say it out loud. He did, when it came to the team, to set a mood, to bring everyone out of any stupor they might have fallen into. He did, when it came to finding amusement. He did, when it was only his own feelings involved.
But now it was more than that. Now that it was mutual and Kazuya wasn't the only one involved...
"After the finals," he finally spoke up, lifting his head. "I will tell them after the finals."
"And until then?" Eijun pressed. "You will lean on me? For anything? Everything?"
Kazuya's short laugh wasn't a laugh, maybe a snort, weak and without any bite. "Look at you, already fussing over me like–"
"Will you?" Eijun repeated, hard.
Kazuya swallowed the hesitation, fear, uneasiness and all doubts he might have had.
"Yeah."
Eijun never asked Kazuya to catch for him anymore. Ono and Kariba were always his first choice now, and Kazuya – although he'd always complained about having to do it, but did it anyway – felt the loneliness settle in his bones, around his heart, like a noose hanging around his neck with an unspoken promise of pain.
He knew the reason: Eijun was being considerate.
It was one of the qualities Kazuya liked about him, but when it was directed towards him he felt... odd. Unneeded. Replaceable. Useless. It was ridiculous, Eijun was his soulmate. He was Eijun's soulmate. And yet, the feelings were still there, still sizzling in his breath and moulding inside his heart.
Kazuya knew he could speak up, talk to Eijun... didn't he promise he would? But it was a little different. It wasn't about his injury, it wasn't about them. It was about Kazuya's own feelings and no one could help him with those, no one but himself.
Or so he thought.
A hand caught his just as he was about to punch the button for black coffee on the vending machine, callused fingers tightening around his for a moment before letting go. Eijun pressed the button for him. The machine buzzed and the can landed in the pocket with a clank. Getting himself a drink as well, Eijun picked them both out and handed Kazuya the coffee.
"You've been real quiet the past few days," Eijun started conversely, holding the can of orange soda in both hands. "Why?"
Kazuya cracked open his coffee and took a sip to avoid answering.
"No reason," he shrugged and took another sip.
One step was all it took Eijun to stand right before him and Kazuya tensed up when Eijun's hand moved from the can to rest against Kazuya's right side. The palm was hot, even through Kazuya's shirt, and weirdly enough the slight discomfort Kazuya had been feeling the whole day disappeared as if Eijun's hand had magical properties, as if a soulmate's touch could heal.
"Does it hurt much?" Eijun asked, carefully caressing Kazuya's ribs.
Eijun's fingers were slow and gentle, a soothing rub against his sore, swollen muscles and Kazuya bit back a sigh. When Eijun stepped a bit closer, eyes a tender amber, and his other arm rested around Kazuya's waist, Kazuya marvelled.
"No, it doesn't hurt," he said. Not anymore.
He didn't want to do it. But his ribs screamed, his side burned in hot pain, and Kazuya was sweating, barely keeping the mask of the teasing captain on his face. He didn't want to do it. But he had no choice. He wouldn't make it on his own.
With quick fingers he typed a short message and waited. Sitting in his desk chair, Kazuya leaned back, his heavy breathing slowing down to normal. The searing pain was dulling to a sharp throb as well and for a single moment Kazuya thought that maybe he was too hasty asking for Eijun's help, but when he sat up straighter, the burn returned and with a groan he slumped back.
Eijun came in without knocking, which Kazuya found amusing enough to crack a small smirk at him. Eijun's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say a word about it.
"What do you need?"
Before answering, Kazuya raised a hand, catching the sleeve of Eijun's shirt between his fingers and tugging lightly. "Help me get my uniform off."
Kazuya's overshirt was gone, he had somehow managed to shrug it off without much trouble, but the undershirt... Kazuya cringed at the very thought of twisting like that.
"Is it that bad?" Eijun asked quietly, watching Kazuya's face, and for an unknown reason Kazuya believed that he could see far more than he gave him credit for.
"It's not that bad," he tried, but when Eijun's eyes darkened, he quickly added: "Usually. It gets worse after practice."
Eijun's lips were a thin line and Kazuya almost regretted telling him. Almost.
"Lift your arms," Eijun said, and Kazuya did.
His muscles were strained a bit, but it didn't hurt as much as when he tried to do it alone. Eijun moved in front of him and pulled up his undershirt. Once it was gone, Kazuya sighed with relief. The throbbing was still there, prickling across his skin like fireworks on the night sky, but that was good, that was manageable.
He didn't know when he closed his eyes, but he snapped them open the moment he felt a thumb slide across his jaw. Eijun was looking down at him with something soft in his eyes, something strange, which Kazuya had never seen before, but which made his heart tremble as if it wanted to echo that emotion.
Eijun leaned down, pressing his lips to Kazuya's temple, and Kazuya froze, in shock, surprise, embarrassment, froze with breathless expectation.
"Just one more match," Eijun said quietly and Kazuya could feel his breath on his ear, like hope, like promise, like prayer. "You can do it."
The warmth of Eijun's cheek against his disappeared too soon, making Kazuya already miss it.
"Yeah," he agreed through the tightness of his chest.
Just one more.
"Don't fuss over every little thing," Kazuya admonished, slightly irritated by the hovering first year.
"If I don't fuss over you, then who will?" Eijun parried, briefly glaring over his shoulder, and returned to making Kazuya's bed. "You won't let anyone else do this, so just hush and let me do my job."
"It's not your job," Kazuya insisted with a grimace. "Your job is to rest and be ready to pitch. Not to make my bed. I'm not an invalid."
"And your job is to take us to Koushien, captain." Eijun fluffed up Kazuya's pillow a bit harder than necessary. "How are you going to do this if you pull a muscle doing your bed?"
Kazuya only sighed. He rubbed his eyes.
There was no arguing with Eijun when he made up his mind and apparently, he made it up for this.
And not only this.
For the past few days Eijun has been fussing over him incessantly and Kazuya was... well. He was happy. His chest felt a little tight and eyes a bit too hot when Eijun disposed of his tray after meals, or helped him out of the catcher's gear, or simply made sure he had everything he needed without straining himself. It was a wondrous feeling, one that Kazuya had long since forgotten.
But on the other hand, Kazuya could make his own bed, for fuck's sake. His injury wasn't that bad. He'd rested when he could, he'd massaged his side to relieve pain, hell, he'd even let Eijun massage it, and everything was fine.
"So what?" he asked again after Eijun spread the blankets over. "Are you going to sleep with me, too? Make sure I don't get up during the night?"
Kazuya knew what he was saying. Oh, he knew very well. Except when he said it, he meant only that – sleeping. Judging by Eijun's widened eyes and the blush rising from his chest to neck to face and ears, Eijun was thinking of entirely different kind of sleeping. Which in turn made Kazuya flustered enough to look away.
"If–" Eijun's embarrassed voice made Kazuya glance his way again. "If you want me to..."
Oh.
Kazuya's mind combusted.
Eijun sat next to him at the back of the bus. He didn't ask if the seat was open, he just plopped into it like it belonged to him, like it was waiting for him all along, like Kazuya had left it for him on purpose.
He did.
The bus rolled across the streets, carrying the team towards the stadium where they would play their last match of the fall. They stayed in silence at the back, while the others' chatter filled away their lack of speech. Kazuya was leaning against the window, the slight chill of the glass on his cheek too pleasant to give up, but Eijun didn't look like he minded, deep in his own thoughts.
He was sitting motionless for the most of the ride, but from time to time he moved, and Kazuya could feel their thighs brush, the subtle drag of clothes, the warmth beneath, the hardness of muscles, which made him press his hot cheek more firmly to the window.
Eijun's been doing this a lot recently: those near ghost touches, so gentle and soft anyone could miss them, but Kazuya felt them like sharp spikes of heat, like spiders running across his skin to weave a web and keep those feelings in, boiling, burning, consuming. Kazuya wasn't able to resist. There was something about that which filled him with giddiness, with expectation, with breathless anticipation, and he could blame it all on the part of him that was tuned in to his soulmate, but he knew it wasn't just that. The other part of him, the rational one, the one Kazuya had always held in control – it wanted those touches, too.
Safe in the knowledge that no one else was sitting behind them and could intrude, Kazuya slipped his hand off his lap into the little space between their seats. Without as much as looking at Eijun, he poked him in the thigh and turned his palm up. Eijun needn't be told twice.
A warm hand slid into Kazuya's, their fingers locking together in a light hold. Tips of Kazuya's ears stung a little, but he pointedly ignored it, savouring the calmness and courage seeping into his skin through Eijun's palm.
In the reflection on the window, he caught a glimpse of Eijun's smile and his heart, warm, thumping, excited, burst when the levee on Kazuya's feelings overflew. He squeezed Eijun's hand, and Eijun squeezed back, and somehow the world seemed a little bit brighter then.
Breathing hurt. Moving hurt. Lifting his arm hurt. Just sitting there on the bench hurt.
But they won.
Kazuya could feel the eyes on him and he knew there was more than one person worried about him as he sat slouched on the bench. Zono was talking his ear off about how irresponsible hiding an injury was. Kuramochi was scowling in agreement next to his fellow vice captain, but didn't say a word. The coach was looking as tough and unreadable as always, and Rei-chan was throwing concerned glances at him every other second.
But it didn't matter. They won.
Kazuya was tired, tired of hurting and simply drained, the combination of both making him unusually distracted. Eijun was nowhere in sight and just for a brief moment Kazuya felt alone. He'd never realized how much he'd relied on Eijun through the last few weeks, but now that he was gone it was clear to Kazuya that he needed, wanted him around. And not only to take care of him, but to just be there by his side, to take his hand when Kazuya offered it, to stroke the exhaustion out of his muscles, to kiss away the fears and fill Kazuya's heart with warmth...
"The cab is here," Rei-chan announced, stepping closer and cutting off Zono's tirade. "Can you walk, Miyuki-kun?"
Kazuya grinned at her, but it must have been a pretty weak grin because the concern on her face didn't disappear. Kuramochi heaved a sigh next to him and bent his knees, pulling Kazuya's arm around his shoulders and catching him by the waist. Kazuya bit back a hiss when his muscles screamed.
"Let's go," Kuramochi only said.
Zono caught Kazuya's other arm and together they made it outside. The cab was waiting, but before Kazuya could get in, rushed footsteps caught their attention. Eijun stopped before them, eyes bright, mouth set.
"I'm coming too," he said.
"Sawamura..." Zono started, but Eijun's jaw only clenched stubbornly.
Watching him, the fire in his eyes, the lips pursed in determination, the windblown hair and sweat covered face, Kazuya's fondness for Eijun hit him strong. It wasn't as much fondness as something he didn't quite understand, something he was never taught, something you can never be taught unless you experience it for yourself. And Kazuya just did.
The soft affection in his gaze, the warm calm spilling in his chest, the sparkly tingling of excitement running through his veins.
Love.
"Let him come," Kazuya said over his quickened heartbeat. "He's my soulmate, after all."
They all looked at him in varying surprise – Kuramochi only smirked and Kazuya wondered briefly if the bastard knew all along – but Kazuya's attention was focused on Eijun. Gold eyes widened at Kazuya's admission, but then returned to normal, and Eijun's whole face relaxed into a gentle smile, which made Kazuya breathe just a little easier.
"I mean," he continued. "Who knows what he'll do if I'm not around."
Eijun spluttered, offended.
Kazuya grinned over his pain. He was in love.
"You're an ass," Eijun whispered.
They were alone in the room, waiting for the doctor and Rei-chan to return. Kazuya sat shirtless on the bed, Eijun standing right before him. Between his legs. Kazuya's fingers were caught in Eijun's uniform, Eijun's hands resting against the sides of Kazuya's neck, warm, soothing, welcome.
"I am," Kazuya admitted easily.
His good mood didn't wane. He was just... so happy. Elated. Overjoyed. Bursting from the inside. And the only thing he really badly wanted to do right now was–
"Come here."
Eijun leaned down. Only centimetres separated them, but the seconds it took to close the distance still felt too long.
Their lips met, a brush, a soft puff, marshmallow touch, and Kazuya felt himself melting into it and clutching onto Eijun's hips just a little bit harder to keep him from pulling away.
Ever.