Chapter Text

Some bonds begin before we learn to name them – in the space between laughter, a shared rhythm, and a single thrown ball. 

Morning light slips through the gaps in Sawamura Eijun’s curtains, inch by inch, until a warm line of gold brushes across his cheek. It’s the first day of summer vacation, and he fully intends to sleep in until the afternoon. Yet, the sun has other plans. Sawamura groans, squinting as the light nudges at his eyelids. It feels almost personal, like the sun is poking him awake. When he finally sits up with wild hair and a sleepy scowl, he knows resisting is pointless. Dragging his feet, he shuffles to the dining room where his mum is already busy in the kitchen. 

“Ei, finally up?” she says, “I made something light. Grab some milk and eat before it gets cold.” Eijun takes a spoonful carelessly and instantly yelps, “OUCH!” sticking his tongue out dramatically. 

His mum sighs. “Pay attention when you eat! Honestly…” But Sawamura hardly hears her. His mind is already racing through all the things he wants to do now that summer has arrived. Play baseball with everyone…catch cicadas…watch sumo wrestling…run through the rice fields…and pitch–ptich until I’m satisfied!!

A grin pulls at his lips, excitement bubbling up fast, “MUM!”, he suddenly shouts. “CAN I GO PLAY BASEBALL TODAY?! RIGHT AFTER BREAKFAST?!” she winces. “Yes, yes, just go get changed.” 

“THANK YOU, MUM!” He bolts to his room, changes at full speed, grabs his glove, and flies out the door like there’s no time to waste. 

Wakana’s house stands warm under the summer sun when Sawamura arrives. He’s about to yell her name again when he notices someone beside her.

A boy he doesn’t recognise.

The boy looks around his age, neatly dressed, with too-big glasses and sharp brown eyes that track everything quietly. His posture is almost too proper for a country boy.  

“WAKANAA!!” Sawamura yells, his voice ringing through the air. 

“EI-CHAN!” Wakana waves, grinning. She motions him closer. “Come here! I want you to meet someone.” The unfamiliar boy tilts his head slightly as Sawamura approaches. His glasses catch the light, hiding his eyes, until he tilts his head up to the steady, crusading gaze beneath. 

“This is Miyuki Kazuya,” Wakana says. “He’s visiting from Tokyo. He is my dad’s friend’s family, who is staying with us for the summer!"

“Tokyo–?!” Sawamura gasps. “That’s so far! DO you guys even have rice paddies there?!” Miyuki blinks at the innocent comment. “We have supermarkets,” smugging at the amusement comment Sawamura made. 

“You buy food in supermarkets?!” Sawamura exclaims, still dense as ever, at the little hint of sarcasm coming from Miyuki’s response. Wakana groans. “Ei-chan…everyone uses supermarkets.” Miyuki lets out a tiny laugh for just a moment; Sawamura thought Miyuki’s smile shone like sunlight slipping past clouds. 

“You’re…interesting,” he says softly as the edges of his mouth curve up to be a smirk. Eijun puffs his chest. “Of course I am!”

Proudly puffing up his chest, “I’m SAWAMURA EIJUN SHOUNEN, PLEASURE TO MEET YOU! THIS SAWAMURA IS PROUDLY 10 YEARS OLD!!”, he proudly did a bow, which made Miyuki brawling down laughing at this interesting introduction. 

“I’m 11 years old. Sa. Wa. Mu. Ra~” calming down from the laugh, “Should you call me ‘Senpai~’”

The look on Sawamura’s face would make everyone believe he had seen someone puke or something. It was full of disgust. 

“NOT A CHANCE MIYUKI KAZUYA!” 

Miyuki nods at the gloves in Sawamura’s hand. “You play baseball?” 

“I don’t just play baseball! THIS SAWAMURA EIJUN IS GONNA BE THE BEST PITCH OF NAGANO! No, JAPAN!! NO! THE WORLD!” 

Miyuki smirks. “Big talk. Think you can back it up?” 

Wakana beams. “You two should go to the field! I wanna watch!” 

The open field behind Wakana’s house is almost humming with warmth. The grass is uneven, the dirt soft beneath their feet, and the river glitters under the sun. Cicadas scream from the trees, a perfect summer chorus. The moment they reach the centre, Miyuki crunches naturally, falling into a catcher’s stance so smoothly that even Wakana pauses. 

Sawamura’s heart increases in pace. He looks like a real catcher…

“Ready?” he calls out. 

“Whenever you are,” Miyuki replies calmly, pushing up his glasses.

Sawamura takes a step toward the makeshift mound, the ball resting loosely in his left hand. He is beginning his wind-up. If you’re the batter, you can’t see the ball at all. Even Miyuki, who’s crouched directly in front of him, loses sight of the ball. For a heartbeat, there is nothing. Then Sawamura snaps forward. His arm whips out from behind the wall of his body so suddenly that the ball seems to materialise out of thin air, released from a point that shouldn’t exist. His twist stays too loose, his fingers grip the ball in some random form. Yet there was a raw emotion coming from it. The pitch heads straight and then veers. It closes sideways, jolting completely out of the strike zone, skidding past. Miyuki tracks it with wide eyes, gloves snapping shut a split-second before he nearly loses it. 

Miyuki, who’s never caught such an unpredictable pitch. Full of chaos and loose control. He should be annoyed by it, but yet, it’s mesmerising. 

For a moment, his expression cracked. “...What was that?” he blurts, eyes wide behind his glasses. 

Eijun beams. “My pitch!” 

“That wasn’t a pitch,” Miyuki says, still stunned. “That was– I don’t even know what that was.” He stood up abruptly, brushing dirt off his knees, staring at Sawamura like he was a puzzle dropped from the sky. “That ball didn’t just move,” he continues. “It jumped. It veered sideways out of the zone. That’s not something a normal pitcher your age can do.” Sawamura’s chest puffs. “So I’m amazing?!” 

Miyuki sighs. “No.” Miyuki pushes up his glasses. “You have zero control.” 

“HEY!!” 

“I’m serious!” Miyuki points to the imaginary strike zone. “Everything you threw today was out of the zone. A catcher won’t know where it’s going, but honestly? Could a batter hit it easily? And you don’t seem to know where it’s headed either.” 

Eijun tilts his head. “Is that…bad?” 

“YES! Dangerous,” Miyuki says plainly. “And interesting. Really interesting.” He steps closer. “Okay, question,” he says. “Do you even know what kind of pitch you just threw?” 

“...A fast one?” Sawamura guesses. 

Miyuki stares. 

“Okay,” he says slowly. “Do you know what a grip is?” 

“Nope!” 

“A release point?” 

“Seam orientation?” 

“Words too big. DON’T KNOW!!” 

Miyuki pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you know anything about pitching?” 

Sawamura brightens proudly. “I know you throw the ball!!” 

Miyuki sighs so dramatically, and Wakana looks amused as she laughs loudly from the side. He takes the ball out of Sawamura’s hand and holds it up. “Okay. Let’s make this simple,” he says. “Hold the ball the exact way you did before.” 

Eijun grips it. It was completely different from the last time. Miyuki’s eyes twitch. “... That’s not the same grip.” 

“It felt the same!!” Eijun protests. 

“It’s not the same,” Miyuki says,  voice tight with disbelief, "You don’t even realise how your fingers move. You’re just doing everything out of feeling?” 

He tosses the ball back into Sawamura’s chest  “But that randomness makes the ball move in ways it shouldn’t. Uncontrolled, wild and messy…” 

Miyuki crunches again, settling into position “Okay, Sawamura,” he says, eyes sharpening, "Let’s test something. Throw again, but this time try to remember how you’re gripping the ball.” 

“You got it!” Eijun says confidently, "He definitely does not have it," but Miyuki already knows that as his glove rises. 

“Alright, show me what you’ve got!” 

Eijun winds up again; his position is still the same as on his first pitch. His left leg shoots up high, wobbling as he balances. And just before, his throwing hand disappears completely behind his body. Miyuki’s eyes narrow. He’s tracking every second of it. That slot. How does he even hide the ball so well? He’s not doing it on purpose…

Sawamura releases. The ball shoots forward, fast for a 10-year-old, but instead of breaking widely like earlier, this one…only nudges off-course; a small drift to the left before it lands in the first just short of Miyuki’s gloves. Miyuki catches it on the bounce. 

“AHHHHH! It didn’t do the crazy move!!!” Eijun slumps. “That’s because you tried to remember,” Miyuki replies, standing and brushing grass from his knees. “Trying makes you worse.” 

“HEY!!!” 

Miyuki ignores him, turning the ball over in his hand. “It still moved,” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Not as much…but it moved.” Sawamura’s head snaps up, “SO THAT MEANS—?!” 

“It means your arm is weird,” Miyuki says flatly. Wakana is now bursting with hysterical laughter, “Ei-chan never get so worked up this much over pitching.” Sawamura groans loudly, “STOP AGREEING WITH HIM! WHO SIDE YOU ON WAKANA!!” But Miyuki isn’t teasing. He was actually curious and thinking about how to enhance Sawamura’s pitching. He crunches again, glove up. “Do it again,” he orders. “Same grip, or as close as you can manage.” Sawamura grins, full of chaotic confidence. 

“OKAY!!” 

He grips the ball as close to the way Miyuki taught him as possible. He steps into his wind-up, the motion all wild energy and flying limbs, and Miyuki braces himself. Another snap of the ball, eliciting a whip-like crack. This time, the ball darts sharply downward at the last second, bouncing into Miyuki’s glove with a heavy skid. 

Sawamura gasps, “IT MOVED AGAIN!!” 

Miyuki stay crouched, staring at the ball like it’s a puzzle. 

“...different grip,” he mutters. He rises slowly, eyes sharpening even further  “You really don’t know what your hand is doing, do you?” Sawamura shakes his head proudly, “NOPE!!” 

Miyuki exhales through his nose, “Okay, enough testing.” 

“Huh? We’re stopping?!” 

“No,” Miyuki says, stepping closer, "We’re fixing you.” He placed the ball into Sawamura’s hand, guiding his fingers with surprising gentleness for someone so blunt. 

“This is a four-seam grip.” 

Eijun blinks, “Four…what?” 

Wakana leans closer, “Ohhh ~ the controlling side of Miyuki is spilling out~” 

Miyuki shoots her a look before turning back to Sawamura. “You’re going to stop letting your finger do whatever they want,” he says. “You’re going to learn the proper way to grip and control your throw.” 

Sawamura’s eyes sparkle like fireworks. “YOU’RE GONNA TEACH ME?!” 

Miyuki coughs once, embarrassed, "...Someone has to.” Sawamura practically vibrates with joy, “ALRIGHT, LET’S DO IT!”, and Miyuki sighs, adjusting his glasses and stepping toward the other side of the mound. 

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

Coming to the countryside isn’t the “fun summer” his dad had tried to convince him it would be. Miyuki would much rather stay in his neighbourhood, playing baseball with his friends and teammates while improving his catching skills. Still, he hopes there is at least something to do here as he watches the towering skyscrapers behind him slowly disappear, replaced by endless mountain ranges. Something he is completely unfamiliar with.

When he first steps out of the station, the smell of rice fields and trees drifting in the breeze is far stronger than the gas fumes and noise of the city.

“Hello, Miyuki-san!”

The Aotsuki family greets them right at the exit. Miyuki is already familiar with them, since they sometimes visit the city for vacations. He knows that with Wakana around, there will always be someone willing to talk with him about baseball, and for that, he is grateful.

“Hello, Aotsuki-san, I hope you’ve been well—”

As the adults greet each other, Wakana peeks through them and walks straight toward Miyuki.

“Kazu! How have you been!!”

Miyuki gives her a smug smile as he greets her back.

“I’ve been well. As you know, our team won again. Now we’re in the semi-final.”

“Wow… put that smug away, Kazu. You know our team can’t even win anything.”

He knows flexing and teasing her is the last thing he should do, but by now their sarcastic comments have become their usual way of greeting each other.

As they get into the car heading toward the Aotsuki house, Miyuki gazes out the window, quietly admiring the scenery that is so different from the city life he’s used to.

“Hey, Kazu, you’ll love playing baseball here!” Wakana says excitedly, brushing a hand through her hair, “Ei-chan is an amazing pitcher! He’s incredible!”

So she likes this boy, Miyuki thinks to himself.

“Oh~ looks like our Wakana has a crush on this Ei boy~”

Wakana blushes immediately, “Yes! And you’ll see why! Ei has the best smile, and his eyes sparkle like fireworks under the sun!”

Realising what she just admitted, Wakana turns even redder as Miyuki continues teasing her.

By the time they reach the house, Miyuki sighs in relief after three hours of travelling and sitting.

“WAKANA!!!”

A boy with bright golden hair suddenly appears before them. He seems a little taller than Miyuki, wearing slightly messy clothes. His hair flickers in the sunlight, and his eyes shine brightly under the golden rays of the afternoon sun.

Miyuki pauses.

Wow.

Without realising it, he finds himself captivated by the boy. The kid has the biggest smile Miyuki has ever seen, and eyes that sparkle with an almost overwhelming brightness. It reminds him of something fleeting, like the warm scent of summer caught in the wind.

Wakana was right.

And for some reason, Miyuki’s heart beats a little faster.

In a moment, Miyuki finds himself swept into playing baseball with him, and somehow, he ends up becoming Sawamura Eijun’s coach. 

Time begins to pass more quickly than he expected. The afternoon drifts by in a blur of throws, laughter, and Miyuki correcting Sawamura’s grip again and again. He has never met someone as interesting as Sawamura. Not just because of his pitching, but because of his personality. There is something about the boy’s wild energy and strange pitching style that makes Miyuki both amused and curious.

It makes him want to keep playing baseball with him.

“Hey, Sawamura,” Miyuki calls.

Sawamura immediately shakes his head and shouts back, “Call me Eijun OR EI. I’ll call you, Kazu!”

Even Miyuki is a little surprised by the boy’s overwhelming energy.

“…Ei, then, but should you be calling me senpai?~,” Miyuki says, pushing his glasses up. 

This caught Sawamura’s attention as he shouted back, “NO WAY, KAZU! OUR AGE DIFFERENCE IS ONLY 6 MONTHS. THERE’S NO WAY I'M CALLING YOU SENPAI!” 

What a brat, Miyuki thought, and he then continued where he left off. 

“I’ll write you a training menu, I think you should follow. Just something simple. One of our pitchers on my team does it, so don’t worry.”

“Really?!” Sawamura’s eyes grow wide, shining with excitement.

“Yeah,” Miyuki replies, “To start with our training menu, do you want to run with me tomorrow morning?”

“Yes!” Sawamura jumps in place, “And with this menu, it will improve my pitching!!”

Miyuki smirks slightly, “I doubt in your head you will remember the pitch I showed you today?”

“YES, KAZU!!” Eijun shouts proudly, “DON’T YOU DARE LOOK DOWN ON THIS SAWAMURA EIJUN!”

Miyuki snorts quietly, but he doesn’t argue.

As they begin walking back toward the house, the sun slowly dips behind the mountains. The sky burns in shades of orange and gold, stretching endlessly across the countryside. Miyuki realises he has never seen a sunset this clear before.

In the city, the sky is always hidden behind buildings.

Here, the sunlight washes over everything. 

When Miyuki glances at Sawamura, who is talking with Wakana, his golden hair catches the fading sunlight, glowing almost the same colour as the evening sky; his brown eyes shine brightly, reflecting the last rays of the day like sparks of warm amber.

Miyuki watches him.

If he had to compare Sawamura to someone he knows, maybe someone like Mei from back home, Eijun is completely different.

Louder, more stubborn, but strangely enchanting. 

He thinks he would really like to catch Sawamura’s pitches.

And more than that...

Miyuki willingly wants to teach him and watch him grow.

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

“MIYUKI KAZUYA!!”

It is far too early in the morning to be screamed at by a loudmouth.

Miyuki drags his feet along the dirt path, one hand covering a yawn as he heads toward the small open field where they first played catch. The air is still cool from the night, and the sky is only beginning to brighten with the first hints of sunrise. He already regrets waking up this early.

Sawamura, on the other hand, is practically vibrating with energy, “Aren’t you a little too excited this morning, Ei?” Miyuki mutters, his voice thick with sleep.

“How could I not be, Kazu?!” Sawamura throws his arms up dramatically, “This is the first time I’ve ever gotten something like a training menu!” His eyes are wide, shining brighter than the rising sun.

Miyuki sighs quietly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “… It’s just a basic routine.” But Sawamura treats the folded paper as if it were some hidden treasure.

Miyuki doesn’t really get why Sawamura treasures those training men. For him, it was just an annoying schedule to follow with Miyuki setting the pace for their run. That’s how their summer begins.

The first few days are a mess. Sawamura trips over his own footing during turns, gasping for breath while refusing to slow down, and Miyuki clicks his tongue in annoyance before matching his pace anyway. 

“Don’t breathe through your mouth, Ei,” Miyuki calls lazily while running ahead. “Through your nose. From your bell. Three-to-two rhythm.” As Miyuki demonstrates the breathing pattern, Sawamura tries his best to copy it but coughs halfway through the inhale.

“EI! Keep your pace. This is the last round!” Miyuki shouts.

Annoyed, Sawamura yells back between breaths, “I’m tryin'! You’re just good at it!”

Taking the opportunity, Miyuki shoots back smugly, “Well, thank you~”

“UGH! THAT’S NOT A COMPLIMENT, MIYUKI KAZUYA!”

Fair to say Miyuki fully enjoys himself training Sawamura over the summer break. They talk about baseball constantly, flipping through the latest magazines and arguing about who the best pitcher and catcher in Japan might be. It is fun to have someone besides Wakana and Mei to share his love of baseball. Compared to the teasing and bullying he sometimes experiences on his primary school team, being around Sawamura makes him think: 

If Eijun were on the same team as him, he might actually enjoy baseball a lot more.

To Miyuki, I wish not every day is spent on baseball. Sometimes, the rest of Sawamura and Wakana’s friend group drags Miyuki away with their endless countryside activities. They chase cicadas through the fields until someone inevitably falls into the grass, usually Sawamura. They swim in the river until the sun burns their faces red. They wrestle along the dirt paths between rice paddies, shouting and laughing until someone’s mother calls them home for dinner. Miyuki had expected the countryside to be boring. Instead, he finds himself laughing, exhausted but genuinely amused, more than he has in a long time.

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

As the weeks pass, Sawamura slowly refines his pitching form, with Miyuki constantly commenting on his posegrip. At one point, Miyuki even bans him from throwing real pitches altogether, forcing him to shadow-pitch instead.

“Your balance is terrible,” Miyuki says bluntly. “Fix your pose first before actually pitching. We don’t want people to complain about your pitch hitting them again.”

Naturally, Sawamura complains endlessly about it. He misses the sound of the ball snapping into the mitt and the feeling of holding a real baseball. But even he has to admit the drills are helping. Little by little, his stance becomes steadier. His arm motion becomes smoother, and his body stops twisting so wildly during the release.

By the end of summer, Miyuki finally allows him to throw again.

Sawamura winds up, his leg lifting high as he carefully balances this time. The ball shoots forward and lands cleanly into Miyuki’s glove with a sharp smack.

Miyuki pauses.

“…good.”

Sawamura nearly explodes with excitement.

Through the summer, Miyuki has helped him understand a few basic types of pitches. The first is the four-seam fastball, where his fingers rest across the seams to produce a straighter throw with better control. Miyuki also teaches him how to aim inside, forcing batters to move away from the plate, and outside, targeting the edges of the zone. Sawamura still throws wildly sometimes, but now there is intention behind his pitches.

Spending time with Miyuki also makes Sawamura realise something else.

Miyuki Kazuya is unbelievably arrogant.

He is cheeky, smug, and constantly trying to outsmart everyone around him. Probably the worst personality Sawamura has encountered. And yet, whenever Miyuki talks about baseball, something about change makes his expression focused and serious, his voice confident. There is a strange intensity around him that unknowingly draws Sawamura toward him.

One evening, when Miyuki finally agrees to catch for him again after a long day of activities, Sawamura suddenly blurts out, “Kazu.”

Miyuki glances at you. “What?”

Sawamura grips the baseball tightly. “From now on… will you always catch for me?”

The question catches Miyuki slightly off guard. For a moment, he stares at the boy before shrugging casually.

“...I only catch for the people who bring good for the team, Sawamura. So quickly and improve to catch up. I don’t have that much patience with people who are not giving their all~” 

“You’re such a jerk, Miyuki! I will show you this Sawamura Eijun talent and will surpass you!!!” 

As the two continue to bicker, Sawamura knows what Miyuki means and that he himself needs to catch up to stand side by side with him. 

Wakana watches this exchange from the sideline. Recently, those two have been inseparable, running, practising, and arguing almost every day. Sometimes she calls for Sawamura only to hear him shout back, “WAIT A SECOND, WAKANA! KAZU IS EXPLAINING SOMETHING!”

Watching them, Wakana crosses her arms and pouts slightly.

“…Geez.”

They're never really together, no. Folding her hands, she grew uneasy at their closeness, as if she were slowly losing her grip on Sawamura. 

Eventually, summer comes to an end, and Miyuki prepares to return to Tokyo.

On the last evening before he leaves, Sawamura drags him back to the field for one final catch.

“Just catch me one more time!” Eijun insists.

Miyuki sighs but crouches anyway, raising his glove.

“Alright. One last time, Sawamura.”

Sawamura winds up and throws everything. The ball snaps cleanly into Miyuki’s glove.

Both of them grin.

Sawamura points dramatically, “Next time you come back, I’ll throw even better!”

Miyuki adjusts his glasses and tosses the ball back.

“We will see about that~”

The next day, Miyuki leaves Nagano and returns to the city. Neither of them realises how much that promise will matter later.

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

The summer soon fades, replaced by the rushing winds of winter. The mountains slowly disappear under thick blankets of white, and the rice fields that once shimmered green in the summer now lie buried beneath snow. The air grows colder, and every sound seems softer, as if the entire countryside has fallen asleep.

But Sawamura Eijun is very much awake.

The first morning of the New Year holidays, he is already outside before the sun fully rises, his boots crunching loudly against the snow as he runs along the familiar road. His breath comes out in short clouds of mist, his cheeks red from the cold, but the grin on his face refuses to fade.

Because today—

Miyuki is coming to visit again.

“WAKANA! IS HE HERE YET?!” Eijun shouts, sliding to a stop in front of her house.

Wakana sighs, pulling her scarf tighter around her neck. “He just got off the train. Calm down, Ei-chan.”

Too late.

Eijun is already running toward the incoming cars near Wakana’s house.

“KAZU!!”

Miyuki barely has time to turn before Sawamura barrels into him like an excited puppy, nearly knocking him backward into the snow.

“…Good morning to you too,” Miyuki mutters, adjusting his glasses.

Nagano looks completely different now.

Where summer once stretched endlessly with warm sunlight and buzzing cicadas, winter has wrapped every silence. The mountains stand tall in the distance, their peaks hidden behind drifting snow clouds, and the narrow roads are lined with thick piles of snow.

Eijun, however, has not changed at all.

“You’re late!” he complains loudly, even though Miyuki arrived exactly when he said he would.

“Quit complaining. I’m right on time, Bakamura. You’re just too excited after a long time…” Miyuki replies flatly.

But despite the dry tone, there is a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Wakana watches them with crossed arms.

“…Those two really didn’t change at all.”

They return to the same field where they first played catch months ago. Now it is completely covered in snow. The dirt mound is gone, buried beneath white powder, and their footprints leave deep marks across the frozen ground. Eijun stomps into the centre of the field and brushes snow from his glove excitedly.

“Kaz! Will you catch me for me? I’ve improved my speed and control since summer!

Miyuki sighs, “Alright.”

Sawamura quickly moves to the mound and winds up. His leg lifts high, his body twisting as his arm whips forward. The ball travels faster now, cutting toward the side of Miyuki’s glove.

Smack.

Miyuki pauses. “…Your inside control improved. The power is more stable, too.”

Eijun pumps his fist in the air, “SEE! I told you!”

“Still a little off-centre, but it’s an improvement compared to before,” Miyuki replies calmly.

“HEY!”

But despite the complaint, Miyuki can clearly see the improvement.

Sawamura’s balance is steadier now. His body no longer twists wildly during release, and his fingers grip the seams with more intention and power.

“Your four-seam is less wild,” Miyuki says, tossing the ball back. “But you still need to tighten your fingertips.”

Sawamura quint. “At least give me a proper compliment, Kazu!" 

"I can't. That would mean I'm lying too much~." 

They continue bickering. Between pitches, Miyuki explains things as he did during the summer, encouraging Sawamura to experiment with different pitches.

“Your finger position and pressure control the spin,” he says, demonstrating with a ball. “More backspin keeps the ball straighter.”

Eijun leans forward, “So that’s why your ball doesn’t drop or move outside!”

“Exactly.”

“And what about inside and outside pitches again?”

“If the batter stands here,” Miyuki says, drawing a line in the snow with his foot, “an inside pitch forces back. An outside pitch makes them reach.”

Eijun’s shine shin. “So I can control where they swing!”

Miyuki nods.

“Now you’re actually using your head, Ei~”

“I’M ALWAYS USING MY HEAD, KAZU!”

Their voices rise again, overlapping into familiar bickering, the cold air filling with noise that feels warmer than it should.

“OI—BOTH OF YOU DINNER!” 

Neither of them responded immediately. 

“... We’re coming!’ Miyuki finally calls back, asking Sawamura to go well. Sawamura, still muttering under his breath as they start walking, continues the argument as if it never ended. 

After the welcoming dinner for Miyuki and his dad, Miyuki and Sawamura are gratefully granted a sleepover by their parents. Excited as usual, Sawamura grabs Miyuki up to his room to chat about baseball again. To avoid being discovered by Sawamura’s parents for staying up late, they agree to sleep in Sawamura’s bed while quietly whispering stories about their baseball games. 

For the next hour, they talk about their school life and baseball. Miyuki talks more usually. He tells an incident about his calling in games and how players always fall for the same pattern if you push them just a little bit. 

“There was this one guy,” Miyuki says, leaning back slightly, “he kept stepping too far forward every time he swung. So I just kept calling inside pitches.”

Eijun leans in immediately. “And?!”

“He kept missing.”

“THAT’S SO COOL!”

Miyuki shrugs like it’s nothing, but he doesn’t stop.

“A catcher isn’t just catching,” he continues. “You control the pace. You decide what the pitcher throws. If you read it right, the batter’s already losing before the ball leaves the hand.”

Eijun listens like every word matters.

Quietly, Miyuki realises something surprising—Sawamura learns incredibly fast and keeps improving, like a sunflower, always turning instinctively toward something brighter, even without knowing the exact direction. He kept chasing that warmth with everything he had. Even if it may be messy, it is undoubtedly mesmerising. Miyuki watches Sawamura complaining about his different pitches for longer than he should before muttering under his breath. 

“... You’re weird,” Miyuki mutters under his breath. 

“What was that, Kazu?!” Sawamura snaps instantly. 

“Nothing”, Miyuki replies, their hands slowly reach toward each other, fingers intertwining as Sawamura stares into Miyuki’s eyes.

“Did you meet any pitchers that are interesting?”

Miyuki thinks for a moment. “…I know a pitcher who has better control than you.”

“We always compete. If I lose, he gets smug, and I train harder. When I win, he grumbles and practices even more.”

“… I’ve grown fond of him. He’s someone I’d like to catch for.”

Sawamura’s eyes flare with something burning. He tightened his grip on Miyuki’s hands. 

“Don’t be jealous, Sawamura… You two are completely different. In a million years, you won’t catch up to him.”

It is meant as a joke—

Sawamura’s grip slowly loosened as he could see a sad but regretful look on his ace. Miyuki know the joke lands wrong. 

But it was the reality for both of them. 

Their environments are completely different. That pitcher—Mei—is a so-called genius, trained from a young age with proper coaching resources. Sawamura, on the other hand, grew up in the countryside with little access to equipment or training, barely understanding what kind of pitches he was throwing just months ago.

Of course, their skill levels are different.

And yet—

Deep down, Miyuki never really understood his fondness for Sawamura. It's maybe because he’s interested in Sawamura’s will, or maybe because it gave him excitement whenever they stood on the mound together. 

He would never accept it. It was too out of character for him to be obsessing over this boy. 

“Hey, don’t be down, Ei,” Miyuki adds while tightening their grip. “I like pitchers with good control.”

Sawamura yanked back the grip as he shouted, “JUST YOU WAIT, MIYUKI KAZUYA! YOU’LL BE BEGGING TO CATCH FOR ME WHEN I PERFECT EVERYTHING!!”

Miyuki lets out a quiet huff. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

This time Miyuki actively pull Sawamura’s hand back into a grip as both of them slowly drift off without noticing.

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

That morning had already been warned against.

The adults had mentioned it over breakfast. The temperature is expected to drop later in the day, and the wind will pick up soon after; staying outside too long in this kind of weather would make anyone sick. They were told not to overdo it, not to ignore the cold, not to stay out once the sky turned dark.

Miyuki hears it.

He doesn’t think it matters.

Because when they step onto the field, the sky is still pale and open, the cold sharp but manageable, the snow bright beneath feet. Nothing about it feels dangerous enough to stop them.

“Kazu! What took you so long?!”

Sawamura’s voice cuts across the field, loud as ever, his energy unchanged despite the cold biting acheekachena follows behind him, already frowning before she even reaches them.

“Good morning to you, Ei-chan,” she says flatly, grabbing his ear the moment she’s close enough.

“Ow—ow, ow! I’m sorry! Good morning, Wakana!”

Miyuki exhales quietly, adjusting his glove as he watches them. It has been about a week since he returned to Nagano, and Sawamura has been forcing Miyuki into his activities, such as snowball fights, sliding down hills, and getting dragged into whatever chaos Sawamura decides on next.

Even though Miyuki wishes to train, her training has been limited. The snow is too thick, the ground too unstable, and Miyuki had already made it clear there would be no morning runs in this weather.

“Your idiot brain would catch a cold before you even finish one lap,” he had said.

Sawamura had complained.

And ignored him anyway.

Now, standing in the middle of the field, breath fogging in the cold air, Sawamura grips his glove tightly and points straight at him.

“I WANT YOU TO CATCH FOR ME, MIYUKI KAZUYA!!”

Miyuki pauses for a moment, watching him.

Despite the cold, despite the warnings, Sawamura looks the same as always, stubborn and completely unwilling to stop.

Miyuki clicks his tongue softly and steps forward.

“…Fine. Just don’t complain when your hands freeze.”

Sawamura grins immediately.

“AS IF THAT’LL STOP ME!”

Miyuki lowers into a crouch, glove raised.

“Then throw.”

The pitches at the beginning seem to have improved in control since the last two weeks. If Miyuki need to guess, it seems Sawamura have been practising shadow pitching because of the limited throwing. Miyuki shifts slightly, catching it with a sharp snap, the impact settling solidly into his palm. He tosses it back without much comment.

“You’ve been practising quite a lot, huh?”

Sawamura lights up instantly. “OF COURSE I HAVE TOO! I’M WAITING  FOR YOU TO CATCH FOR ME!”

He resets immediately, barely giving himself time to breathe before throwing a kick. His footing slips slightly against the snow, but he forces the motion through anyway, correcting mid-throw with sheer stubbornness.

“…You’re overcompensating,” Miyuki calls. “Fix your balance.”

“I AM fixing it!”

“That’s not fixing, that’s guessing.”

“HEY!”

But he throws again anyway.

From the side, Wakana crosses her arms, watching them with a frown. “You’re both going to get sick,” she mutters, though neither of them listens.

As they continue to throw, notice that ice Sawamura resets longer. His breaths linger heavier in the air, shoulders rising and falling with a faint delay that wasn’t before. The cold clings to him now, settling deeper into his movements, slowing him just enough to notice.

“Oi,” Miyuki says, straight slightly. “Take a break.”

“I’m FINE!”

His answer comes too quickly.

Miyuki watches him for a second longer, then lowers back into position.

“…LAST ONE BAKAMURA.”

“NO WAY! I CAN STILL GO!”

Miyuki, take a look at Sawamura. His eyes droop, weighed down by exhaustion, the usual fire in him flickering faintly instead of burning bright.

“DON’T PUSH YOURSELF BAKAMURA! IT’S BECAUSE OF THE COMMENT I MADE WEEKS AGO!” 

Sawamura doesn’t have a sweater. He shouted.

“NO! I PROMISE I’M FINE!” 

Sawamura slowly pick up the ball, but there’s a tremor in his hands now as he grips the ball. Miyuki’s eyes furrow noticeably. Sawamura winds up again, pushing harder this time, forcing strength into the throw, but his footing slips just slightly as his weight shifts. The ball leaves his hand—

Miyuki catches it easily, but his expression tightens.

“…Ei?”

Sawamura doesn’t answer.

He remains standing, head slightly lowered, like he’s trying to focus, but his balance doesn't settle. Instead, his body sways faintly, unstable.

The grin on his face fades.

“Hey,” Miyuki says, as singing. “What’s wrong with you?”

Sawamura exhales, but the breath comes uneven, too shallow, too slow to recover.

“…Kazu…?”

Miyuki steps forward immediately.

“Sit down.”

“I said I’m—”

He collapses into the snow.

“EI!”

Miyuki is already there, dropping beside him, grabbing his shoulders.

“He —hey! Wake up!”

Sawamura’s body trembles uncontrollably, his skin cold—too cold—even through layers. His breathing is shallow, uneven, like his body can’t keep up anymore.

Panic hits sharp and immediate.

Miyuki instinctively pick him up as he rushes back to Sawamura’s house. 

“Hold on,” he mutters. “Just hold on.”

The wind begins to rise.

Snow drags across the field, growing harsher with every second as the sky darkens faster, expected. The storm rolls in all at once, swallowing the field, the path, everything.

From the house, Wakana’s voice cuts through the wind.

"KAZU! EI! GET BACK HERE!”

Miyuki, ignoring all the commotion and rush, saw Sawamura toward the house. 

Each step is heavy, slowed by the snow, the wind pushing against him, but his grip only tightens, pulling Sawamura closer.

He reaches the house and slams against the door.

“OPEN THE DOOR!”

It slides open.

“EIJUN?!”

They rush towards ater. Miyuki worried, helped grab blankets and cloths to heat Sawamura. 

Miyuki steps back. Looking at Sawamura’s lifeless body, he felt an immense rush of guilt. His hand was shaking as Sawamura’s parents ran to call for help. 

He steps closer to the bed, reaches out without thinking, his hand hovering before finally touching him.

Cold.

Still cold.

Something tightens in his chest.

As Miyuki step closer to Sawamura, holding onto his hand. An unknown scent begins to spread. 

It grows heavy, pressing down in a way that doesn’t make sense.

Miyuki’s breath catches. His thoughts scatter

Sawamura is mine, so he needs to be safe. He’s mine. I NEED to save HIM. 

Something inside him surges—raw, overwhelming, impossible to control.

Don’t let him go.

His body heat is rising too fast for his body. Red colours fill his eyes as he tries his best to stay afloat yet. 

His body can’t keep up.

His vision blurs, and everything goes dark.

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

When Miyuki opens his eyes, the first thing that greets him is a ceiling far too white to be familiar.

The light above him is steady and unyielding, the kind that belongs to places that never truly rest. It presses faintly against his vision, making his eyes sting as they slowly adjust, and for a moment, he lies there, caught between the heaviness of sleep and the slow return of awareness. The air feels different—sterile, carrying the faint, sharp scent of disinfectant that settles at the back of the throat. It doesn’t belong at home. 

Then memory returns slowly in fragments that piece themselves together, whether he wants them to or not—the field, the cold biting through layers, the uneven rhythm of breath that didn’t belong to him, and the sudden, overwhelming stillness when Sawamura’s body gave out in his arms.

“Kazu, you’re awake.”

His father’s voice reaches him from beside the bed; he is to be controlled, but he is a weight Miyuki recognises even as a when looking at the king. He turns his head slightly, vision still blurred at the edges, and finds him seated there, posture straight but shoulders more tired than usual.

“…How long?” Miyuki asks, his voice rough from disuse.

“A few days,” his father replies.

A few days.

The words settle slowly, sinking deeper than they should. Miyuki’s fingers shift against the blanket, tightening almost imperceptibly as the thought forms fully in his mind.

Sawamura.

The door opens soon after, and doctors and nurses enter with quiet efficiency, their movements practised and calm as they check his condition, ask questions, and note his responses. Miyuki answers when needed, short and precise, his attention drifting despite himself, pulled back again and again to the same unanswered question. Once they finish, the room stills once more, and the doctor turns his attention to Miyuki’s father.

“He’s recovering well,” the doctor says. “If his condition remains stable, he should be able to leave by tomorrow.”

Miyuki listens now, calming down. 

“The initial cause was cold exposure combined with physical strain,” the doctor continues, his tone measured. “His body reacted severely to the temperature.”

Cold.

Miyuki’s fingers curl slightly into the fabric beneath them.

Was that all it was?

“…And after that?” his father asks.

The doctor pauses, as if weighing his words carefully.

“What followed was not typical.”

Miyuki lowers his gaze.

“The physical stress, combined with heightened emotional response, created an unstable hormonal reaction. In rare cases, this can trigger early manifestation.”

“…Both of them?” his father asks.

“Yes. However, Sawamura’s case was influenced by an external factor.”

Miyuki already knows.

He doesn’t need to hear the answer.

“…What factor?”

“Miyuki.”

The word lands with a quiet finality that echoes louder than it should. It presses into him, sharp and cold, as the rush of winter air forced too suddenly into his lungs.

“At the same time, his own manifestation occurred,” the doctor continues. “The emotional response triggered an unconscious release of pheromones, which acted as the catalyst.”

Miyuki doesn’t remember clearly.

Only fragments remain—the pressure, the urgency, the instinct that surged too fast for him to understand, the overwhelming need to protect something he could not afford to lose.

“…And the result?” his father asks quietly.

There is a brief pause before the answer comes.

Originally, Sawamura presented as a beta. However, due to the influence of Miyuki’s pheromones, he has now manifested as an omega.”

The words settle slowly, each one heavier than the last.

Miyuki lowers his gaze further.

“…And Miyuki?” his father asks.

“A rare classification,” the doctor says. “Enigma.”

Silence follows. 

“…Should Sawamura be told?” his father asks.

“Not yet,” the doctor replies. “At his age, it is better to stabilise his condition first.”

When Miyuki hears that, everything gets worse.

Because it means Sawamura doesn’t know.

And Miyuki does.

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

By the time he was discharged, Nagano didn’t feel the same an more. The cold air feels different.

Heavier. 

He doesn’t stay long enough to let it.

He finds Sawamura outside later that day, near the house, where the snow has settled again in uneven layers across the ground. The storm has passed, leaving behind a stillness that feels heavier than the wind that came before it. Sawamura looks better—standing, moving, talking—but there is a stiffness in the way he shifts his weight, a lingering trace of something not fully recovered.

He notices Miyuki immediately.

“Kazu!”

The call comes without hesitation, as if nothing has changed.

Sawamura steps closer, stopping just short of him, his expression open and searching.

“Are you okay?”

Miyuki pauses, just for a moment.

“I’m fine,” he says.

Sawamura studies him briefly, as if weighing the answer, then nods once.

“THANK GOD YOU’RE FINE,” he replies, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t really remember much after that last pitch.”

He continued to cry while holding on to Miyuki. 

“I didn’t want you to be hurt… it’s the last thing I want…”

Miyuki looks at him. His eyes slowly mirrored Sawmura. He can’t show weakness. He doesn’t want Sawamura to cry an more. He wanted to wipe those tears away. To never put him in a heavy situation. Yet, he was the one who did it. 

There is no doubt in his voice. 

“…You collapsed,” Miyuki says quietly. 

“Ye, once I wake up, I find myself in a hospital bed.” Sawamura lets out a small breath, almost relieved. “Yeah… Wakana said something like that, too. Guess I overdid it.”

Miyuki doesn’t answer immediately.

“…Ei,” Miyuki says after a moment.

Sawamura looks up.

“I’m not coming back to Nagano after this.”

The words are quiet, but there is no hesitation in them.

Sawamura blinks.

“…Huh?”

“I’ll be busy,” Miyuki continues, his tone even. “Training. School. I won’t have time to come back like this again.”

It sounds reasonable.

But something about it doesn’t sit right.

Sawamura’s expression shifts, confusion settling in where certainty had been only seconds before.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, KAZU!!,” he says.

Pushing Miyuki to the ground. 

“I—You CAN’T! I WON’T LET YOU!!” 

Miyuki looks away briefly, adjusting his glove in his hand.

“…About what happened,” he adds, his voice lower. “I’m sorry.”

Sawamura frowns slightly. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT,  KAZU!? NOTHING BIG HAPPEN TO US RIGHT? I’M FINE, AND YOU’RE FINE? YOU CAN’T KAZU! WHO WILL BE CATCHING FOR ME IF YOU WEREN’T HERE ANYMORE? WHO WILL COACH ME IF YOU ARE GONE?!”

Miyuki doesn’t answer that.

He can’t.

“…Sorry, Sawamura," he says in tears. “I just can’t.”

Sawamura exhales, shoving Miyuki further. “YOU IDIOT MIYUKI KAZUYA…”

Sawamura is hitting Miyuki’s chest as the wind is howling. 

After a few hits, Sawamura moves and stands up. 

The space between them feels unfamiliar in a way neither of them can name.

“…So that’s it?” Sawamura asks after a moment, his teary eyes shifting slightly away. “You’re just … going to leave me…?”

Miyuki nods once.

“Yeah.”

Sawamura looks down briefly, then back up again, forcing something close to a smile that doesn’t quite hold.

“…Then next time,” he says, more firmly now, “I’ll be better.”

Miyuki stills.

“NEXT TIME YOU WILL BE THE ONE BEGGING TO CATCH FOR ME, MIYUKI KAZUYA! I’LL BE BETTER A HUNDRED TIMES!” Sawamura continues, his voice carrying that same stubborn certainty as a way. “MIYUKI KAZUYA! YOU BETTER BE READY FOR IT!”

Miyuki looks at him.

At the same bright, relentless expression.

At the same person who hasn’t changed—

even though everything else has.

“…Yeah,” Miyuki says quietly.

He doesn’t promise anything.

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

The road out of Nagano is quieter than he remembers. Snow lines the edges, soft and undisturbed, stretching into the distance as the mountains rise in still sibeyondbeyo d it. The sky is pale, the light muted, the world unchanged in a way that feels almost indifferent.

Miyuki sits by the window, gaze unfocused, watching it all pass by without really seeing it. It should feel like any other trip back. Miyuki leans back slightly, closing his eyes for a brief moment as the memory returns uninvited—the sharp, clean sound of the ball hitting his glove, the way Sawamura always looked back at him, waiting, trusting, without question.

His fingers tighten.

Then loosen.

This is the best option. It has to be.

For Sawamura.

For himself.

Because if he stays, he would feel deep regret. He would be lying if Sawamura had become a part of him. He wished he could stay right beside him. He wishes he could go back in time and never let Sawamura collapse to the ground. He would never trigger and change Sawamura’s fate. 

The car continues forward.

And this time. 

Miyuki doesn’t look back.

🧢

Chapter Text

Omegaverse ranking power (strongest to weakest) 

1. Enigma (10%) 
1. Able to get all ranks below pregnant, potent pheromones, sometimes leaking through unintentionally. High resistance to scenet suppressants and pheromone blockers. Strong ruts lasting anywhere from 4-8 days. For their safety and others', it is recommended that they be restrained unless they have a companion. Violence is rare, but the release of potent suppressive pheromones is common. 
2. S-Class Alpha (20%)
1. Strongest of all alphas, the strongest pheromones of alpha. Strong ruts lasting anywhere from 4-6 days, the risk of violence varies from alpha to alpha. Still, it is recommended they do not spend the rut alone, and if alone, stay away from heavily populated areas due to pheromone release. 
3. B-Class Alpha (30%)
1. Second strongest. Average Alpha with average pheromone strength. Basic ruts lasting anywhere from 3-4 days, with a medium risk of violence varying from alpha to alpha. 
4. C-Class Alpha (40%) 
1. Below basic still potent pheromones because of being an alpha, but not as strong as S-class or B-class, light ruts usually last anywhere from 2-3 days, and there is a low risk of becoming violent during ruts. 
5. Beta (60%) 
1. Middle ground, they don’t have pheromone, nor do they go through ruts or heats. 
6. C-Class Omega (50%)
1. Little resistance to Alpha pheromones; a tolerance may be built due to constant exposure, i.e., over time spent living in or working in close proximity to C-Class Alpha, but this usually takes multiple years and will only apply to certain pheromone types. Very light pheremones, as they are closer to the beta end of the spectrum. Heats lasting anywhere from 3-4 days, violence is very uncommon in C-class omegas, irritability, dizziness, some headache, and light to no fever is more likely. They have the lowest tolerance to suppressants and blockers. Need regular or even low strengths. 
7. B-Class Omega (30%)
1. Mild pheromones are in the middle of the omega spectrum. Mild resistance to C-Class Alpha pheromones; tolerance may build over time due to constant exposure, e.g., living in or working in close proximity to C-Class Alphas. Heats lasting anywhere from 4-5 days, while violence is very uncommon in B-class omegas, it is not impossible. Irritability, dizziness, headaches and light fever are more likely, but also unusual. They have a lower tolerance to suppressants and blockers. 
8. S-Class Omega (20%) 
1. Rare and very hard to find, their pheromones are more potent than other omegas, and they have the natural strength to resist C-Class Alphas' and most B-Class Alphas' pheromones—higher resistance to scent suppressants and pheromone blockers. Heats lasting anywhere from 5-7 days, while violence is uncommon in omega, it is not impossible, irritability, dizziness, headaches and mild fever are more likely. It is suggested that heat not be spent alone due to health and safety risk, but it is ot impossible to get through alone.
9. Recessive trait (5%) 
1. Recessive ® Alpha/Omega, no matter the class of the Alpha or Omega with the r trait, will have irregular or more intense heats/ruts; they will usually have a harder time getting pregnant and/or finding out about pregnancy later than usual. 

→ The rarities of the A/B/O 

• A = 20% 
• B = 60% 
• O = 30%

Chapter Text

Follow Sawamura's POV as he wakes up after passing out. 

Sawamura isn’t aware of when he loses consciousness. His memories before everything turned dark are scattered. The snow was beginning to pour heavily, with the strong, cold wind biting through his skin. The sound of Miyuki's shouting his name and rushing toward him. 

Drifting somewhere between sleep and awareness, Sawamura can still picture it vividly. Miyuki’s expression looked terrified, as the panic, shouting, and crunching footsteps through the storm swallowed the field around them. There had also been a smell lingering in the air, something warm buried beneath the cold, fresh dirt after rain. Grass pressed flat beneath cleats after a long baseball game. The scent of an evening field settling in after a baseball game. 

For some reason, it felt comforting. And the last thing Sawamura remembers before everything disappears completely is thinking about whether Miyuki was okay. 

“EIJUN!” 

Warmth crashed into him before his eye even fully opened. Sawamura blinks slowly, his vision slowly pieces together where he is. The ceiling is unfamiliar, with curtains hanging on either side of the bed, shifting faintly whenever someone moves nearby. 

Hospital? 

The realisation settles just as Wakana throws her arms around him again, holding him tightly enough that he can feel her body trembling. 

“HOW IS KAZU?!” Sawamura is hit with panic before his body has even properly caught up to consciousness. His hand gripped onto Wakana’s shoulders instinctively, searching her face for an answer. “Is he okay?!” 

Wakana pull back slightly at that, her expression twisting somewhere between relief and frustration as she quickly looks him over. 

“Eijun…” Her voice shakes. “You’re the one who should be worried about yourself. You passed out in the middle of the field…” 

Tears begin forming in her eyes despite the obvious effort she makes to hold them back. Her finger tightened around the blanket gathered in her hands. “You should’ve listened to me…or your parent that morning…” she mutters weakly. “I was worried sick about of you, baseball idiot!” 

Sawamura’s eyes widen slightly as his attention finally shifts downward. Only now does he notice the IV connected to his arm, the clear liquid dripping steadily beside him, and beyond Wakana, he catches sight of his parents standing nearby. His mother’s eyes are red from crying, while his father tries unsuccessfully to maintain a calm expression despite the obvious exhaustion written across his face.

Guilt twists painfully in his chest.

Biting down lightly on his lip, Sawamura slowly reaches forward and places his hand over Wakana’s, squeezing it tightly.

“I’m sorry for making you worry,” he says quietly, the apology sounding strange coming from someone usually so loud. “And… thank you.”

Wakana sniffles before giving a quick nod, immediately wiping at her eyes in embarrassment, though it doesn’t stop his parents and grandpa from moving closer almost instantly, surrounding him with worried questions about how he feels, whether he’s dizzy, whether anything hurts. The room quickly fills with overlapping voices again, enough that Sawamura almost forgets how cold everything had felt only moments before.

A short while later, the doctor finally arrives.

The atmosphere settles slightly as the examination begins, though Sawamura notices the way his parents grow more serious the longer the doctor speaks. He doesn’t fully understand why until the doctor pauses midway through explaining his condition.

“Your body reacted very strongly to the sudden drop in temperature and prolonged physical strain,” the doctor explains calmly. “Combined with emotional stress, it appears to have triggered an early manifestation.”

Sawamura blinks.

“…Manifestation?”

The doctor nods once.

“It’s uncommon at your age,” she continues carefully, “but not impossible. Extreme situations can occasionally accelerate the process.”

Something about the way the adults exchange glances makes the room suddenly feel smaller.

“…What does that mean for me?” Sawamura asks slowly.

The doctor softens her tone slightly. “It means you’ve presented as a C-class omega...”

“...with a recessive trait…”

Silence follows immediately.

Sawamura stares blankly for a moment, as if waiting for the words to make sense once they settle properly in his head.

“…Omega?” he repeats.

His mother steps closer beside him while the doctor continues to explain things he knows nothing about. Something about hormones, development, precautions, and future check-ups: the words blur together strangely, slipping past him without fully landing.

A strange uneasiness settles over him suddenly, though he doesn’t know why. That scent from before flickers faintly through his memory again, the smell of grass, dirt, and something warm hidden beneath the cold.

“…What about Kazu?” Sawamura asks quietly before he can stop himself.

The room stills for only a second.

Then the doctor offers him a small, reassuring smile.

“He’s recovering well, too.”

Too.

The word passes through him strangely, but before he can question it further, the conversation moves on again, leaving behind only a faint feeling that something important has been left unsaid.

This is the scene where he rushes to see Miyuki when he leaves. 

“I’m not coming back to Nagano.”

The words remain lodged inside Sawamura’s chest long after Miyuki says them.

At first, he thinks he simply heard wrong. Miyuki says it so casually, like he’s talking about the weather instead of tearing something apart between them. Sawamura stands there in the snow staring at him, waiting for the usual teasing follow-up that would reveal this as another one of Miyuki’s cruel jokes.

But it never comes.

Miyuki only looks away. 

If Sawamura had known this was how things would end, he wouldn’t have wasted so much time being angry. He wouldn’t have spent those first few days glaring at Miyuki whenever he corrected his pitching form or complained about his lack of control. He would have listened more carefully, practised harder. Learned faster.

He would have tried to become someone worth staying for.

Instead, all he can do is stand there watching Miyuki turn and walk back toward Wakana’s house, his footsteps crunching softly against the snow. The distance between them isn’t large, but for some reason, it feels impossible to close. Something cold settles heavily in Sawamura’s chest, heavier than disappointment and quieter than anger. It feels closer to being left behind.

The rest of the New Year holiday passed strangely after that.

Miyuki avoids him.

Not obviously enough for the adults to notice immediately, but enough that Sawamura feels it every single time their eyes almost meet before Miyuki looks away first. Every conversation becomes shorter until eventually they stop happening altogether.

Even during the shrine visit.

The stone path leading toward the shrine is crowded with families wrapped tightly in winter coats, warm lantern light glowing softly against the snow-covered ground. Sawamura walks slightly ahead of the others, hands shoved deep into his sleeves as cold air brushes pink against his cheeks. Despite all the noise around him, Sawamura notices Miyuki immediately.

Miyuki stands on the edge of the shrine grounds, hands tucked into his pockets, his breath faintly visible in the cold. He looks different beneath the lantern lights; it's back to when they first met. 

Gloomy. 

Sawamura thinks about walking away. 

Instead, he steps toward the shrine bell.

He throws the offering coin forward, clasps his hands together, and closes his eyes tightly.

The thought forms before he can stop it.

Please…let things go back to normal between us.

The wish feels more unreachable than any other wish he has ever made. 

When Sawamura peeks at Miyuki again, he is already gone.

That night, the tension becomes so obvious that even the adults notice it. Wakana’s parents exchange worried looks during dinner while Sawamura’s mother repeatedly asks if something happened between the two boys. Miyuki’s father only sighs quietly, but the atmosphere grows increasingly strained every time Miyuki avoids another conversation or leaves the room whenever Sawamura enters. 

By the final day, even Wakana snaps.

“You’re both acting weird!” she blurts out angrily while helping clear the table. “Especially you, Kazu! Ei-chan keeps trying to talk to you!”

Miyuki pauses only briefly before lowering his gaze again.

“I’m just busy preparing to leave,” he says calmly.

The answer only irritates her more. Sawamura didn’t say anything. By now, he has completely reflected Miyuki's actions. He was slowly avoiding him as well. 

The morning Miyuki departs, the weather is calmer than it has been in days. The snow has finally begun to melt, softening beneath the sunlight spreading across the countryside. The sky is bright, almost painfully clear, and the field behind Wakana’s house glitters faintly beneath the remaining frost.

The moment he hears the adults talking downstairs, panic surges through him so violently that he nearly trips while putting on his shoes. He bursts out of the house without properly fixing his jacket, cold air immediately burning against his skin as he sprints down the road.

“KAZU!”

His voice echoes uselessly through the morning air. Snow splashes beneath his shoes as he runs harder, lungs burning painfully with every breath. He ignores it. The only thing on his mind is reaching Miyuki before he leaves, before the distance between them becomes real.

When Wakana's house came into view, he saw Miyuki entering the car. 

“KAZUYA!”

Sawamura wants to say something.

So many things.

Don’t go.

Why are you avoiding me?

Did I do something wrong?

Please don’t leave me behind again.

But the words never come.

The car began to move. 

Sawamura runs alongside it instinctively, snow and gravel slipping beneath his shoes as panic rises violently in his chest.

“KAZU—!”

His voice breaks apart before the name fully leaves him.

Miyuki never glance back. 

Until he was completely out of breath, he fell down the dirt ground, breathing hard as cold air tears through his lungs. The tracks stretch endlessly ahead of him now, empty and quiet beneath the winter sunlight.

And for the first time since meeting Miyuki Kazuya—

Sawamura truly understands what it feels like to lose someone.

Chapter Text

[GAME OVER! NARUSHIMA JR. HIGH WINS IT! EACH SCHOOL, FORM A LINE!] 

The sound of the announcement echoed across the field as the players slowly lined up. Dirt clung to Sawamura’s uniform while sweat cooled uncomfortably against his skin after a long exhausting game. His teammates lowered their heads, frustration and disappointment hanging heavily across the team. 

“S–orry—I wanted to take all of you with me against the whole country…”  Sawamura cried through his voice. One of his teammate wiped harshly at his face before punching Sawamura lightly against the shoulder. 

“Idiot… don’t apologize…” 

“HAHAHA—AN OMEGA IS SPOUSING NON-SENSE!!!” The mocking voice cut sharply across Sawamura. A player from Narushima stopped forward with a grin full of superiority. 

“YOU AN LOW CLASS OMEGA TRYING TO CHALLENGES EVERYONE? THINKING AKAGI JR. HIGH CAN CHALLENGE US!! WE ARE NOT EVEN IN THE SAME LEAGUE!!” 

The whole baseball team laughed as they mocked Sawamura. 

“It was already hopeless the moment your captain turned out to be an omega~” 

The air around Sawamura and his teammate stiffened instantly. He stepped forward before anyone could stop him and landed a punch onto the opponent's face. 

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” 

The player immediately shoved back at him, and chaos broke out almost instantly between both teams. 

“It’s the truth!” One of them snapped back. “Even if you’re captain, who’s gonna scout an omega pitcher from the countryside?!” 

Sawamura punched the guys harder, “SO WHAT IF I’M AN OMEGA?!”

He has been an omega for most of his life now… why does everyone so against omega so he thought. 

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

“It was already difficult enough that you’re an omega,” the principal said, slamming his hand against the desk. “And now you’ve started a fight after the game? As team captain, do you really think other schools will want to scout you after this?” Sawamura remained kneeling beside his coach, fists resting against his thighs. The lecture had been going on for nearly twenty minutes, but he refused to lower his head. Even now, he didn't believe he had done anything wrong.

His coach let out a tired sigh.

“Sawamura... you need to start thinking about your future. If you still want to pursue baseball, you should learn how to behave more appropriately. Especially as an omega.”

The words snapped something inside him. Sawamura shot to his feet.

“I WON'T!”

Both adults stared at him.

“I'll prove myself with my own skill! Not because of my class!”

For a moment, neither man spoke.

The principal rubbed his forehead while Sawamura's coach simply looked at him. Not because they were annoyed by him. But they know how hard Sawamura worked. They knew how many hours he spent training after everyone else had gone home. They knew that if he had been born into a stronger program, if he had attended a larger school, his pitching alone could have carried him much further.

Eventually, the principal sighed.

“We know.”

His coach gave him a small nod.

“We know how hard you've worked. We genuinely wish you luck with whatever comes next.”

Sawamura stay silent as he back down. 

“You're dismissed.”

By the time he returned to class, the anger had settled into something heavier. He stopped at the classroom door and tightened his grip against the handle.

How am I supposed to catch up to Kazu now?

When he finally stepped inside, several of his teammates immediately surrounded him.

“Ei-chan!”

“Did they kill you?”

“Are you expelled?”

The classroom erupted into laughter and chatter surrounding him. 

From Wakana seat by the window, she watched the scene unfold and buried her face in her hand.

Honestly… Could he think about the consequences for once?

Sawamura laughed loudly with the others, putting on the same brave face he always did. But she knew him too well.

She had seen him after the loss. The devastation on his face and she knows for sure…he blamed himself when he wasn’t at fault. 

He was simply too stubborn to admit it.

“Yeah, Ei-chan...” Wakana finally called out. “But your grades are still your biggest obstacle if you're trying to get into Miyoshi High.”

The room immediately exploded with laughter.

Sawamura’ face paled.

“...Eh?”

“You do realize your entrance exams are soon, right?”

“IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO STUDY, RIGHT GUYS?!”

“IT'S ABSOLUTELY TOO LATE!”

“YOU'RE FINISHED!”

“START PRAYING!”

The entire class dissolved into chaos as Sawamura further panicked about studying. 

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

Later that evening, Sawamura sat hunched over his desk with books spread messily around him. His pencil scratched furiously against the page while formulas and vocabulary blurred together in front of his eyes.

His bedroom door suddenly slammed open.

“EIJUN!” his grandfather shouted loudly. “WIPE THAT ‘CONDEMNED PRISONER’ LOOK OFF YOUR FACE! SOMEONE FROM TOKYO CAME TO SEE YOU!”

“Hah…?”

Sawamura blinked in confusion before being dragged downstairs by the sleeve.

The moment he entered the room, he froze.

A woman sat calmly beside his parents, dressed sharply compared to anything usually seen around their house.

“Nice to meet you,” she said politely. “I’m Takashima Rei, assistant coach of the Seidou High School baseball club.”

“Oi, Eijun!” his grandfather snapped from behind him while his parents nodded furiously beside the table. “This is your second chance! Thank our honored guests properly!”

“Er…”

Sawamura scratched awkwardly at the back of his head.

Tokyo. Baseball… Kazu...

The thoughts tangled uncomfortably together inside him.

Part of him wanted to reject it immediately. Ever since Miyuki disappeared from his life, Sawamura had stubbornly convinced himself that one day he would build his own team instead. Something that would prove he never needed Miyuki Kazuya to begin with. But another part of him still remembered the sound of his pitch landing in Miyuki mitt. 

“…World-class level, huh…” Sawamura laughed weakly under his breath.

Takashima watched him carefully before speaking again.

“You already know how difficult baseball becomes for omega athletes at higher levels,” she said honestly. “Especially pitchers.”

The room quieted slightly.

“Professional teams favor Enigmas, Alphas and Beta because they’re considered more stable under pressure. Omegas are often pushed into support positions or non-existence.” Her eyes stayed firmly on Sawamura. “But talent is still talent.”

Sawamura looked up slowly.

“And Seidou doesn’t care?” he asked quietly.

Takashima smiled faintly.

“Seidou only cares whether you can survive and prove your skill.”

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

That whole conversation led him to Tokyo and touring Seidou campus. He never imagined or saw anything big like this. Their training and facility is top tier. He could see the members training immensely. 

“So Sawamura, what do you think so far?” 

Sawamura was slowly acknowledging the opportunity to grow his skill. 

“HAHAHA YOU USELESS PUMKIN OMEGA YOU THROW LIKE A BABY!” 

Before he could respond to Rei, in front of him a fat guy pushing and bullying a team member around. 

Sawamura couldn’t stand seeing someone like him being mocked and humiliated just because they came from the countryside, especially being an omega too. Especially not by a man built twice their size proudly emitting his alpha sent to intimidate him standing right in front of him. 

“YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN GO PRO WITH THAT BODY?! YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS? FAT ASS!” 

The chubby guys shoved his way forward, yelling for everyone to move aside. 

“I don’t care about all this ‘determination’ nonsense…” Sawamura clenched his teeth. “But treating the friends who is a omega and took the time to practice with you like that… unbelievable.” 

As Azuma move closer to Sawamura, he was actually now worry about the situation he have put himself in. Standing head to head with this guys, he was a lot taller than he could image. Still, he doesn’t hesitate, because hesitation has never been something he allows himself, not when he has something to prove. 

“Hehe, isn’t this interesting!” 

The voice comes from behind him, light and careless in a way that immediately pulls something tight in his chest. He knows that voice. Even before he turns, even before he sees the figure sitting on the ground as nothing has changed, he already knows. 

Miyuki Kazuya. 

He turns slowly, and there he is, exactly where he shouldn’t be and yet exactly where he feels like he’s always been. Miyuki is sitting near the fence, one hand idly tossing a baseball into the air and catching it again without effort. His hair has grown longer, falling just enough to show his face, but there is something more defined about him now; his jawline is steadier, with his baby fat nowhere to be found. The softness from before hasn’t disappeared completely–it lingers faintly behind his gaze—but it’s buried under this moment right now. Sawamura felt distant in a way that mirrored when Miyuki left Nagano. 

That bastard smirk is still there. 

Their eyes meet, and the world seems to narrow for just a split second. Sawamura feels the weight of it immediately, anger pressing into his chest as the memory of winter flickers back without any resolution to why Miyuki left him behind. The resentment hasn’t faded, not completely. It sits there, stubbornly, tangled with something else he hasn’t managed to name. 

Miyuki doesn’t look away. 

“Rei-chan,” he says casually, lifting his glove slightly as if this is nothing more than a passing thought, “is it okay if I catch for this guy?” 

The tone is too casual for someone he has ignored for the past five years, and it irritates Sawamura more than it should. There’s no hesitation in it, no acknowledgement of the distance between them, as if everything that happened before doesn’t matter here; Sawamura is just another stranger standing in front of him. 

Before he can respond, a sharp voice cuts through them, 

“HEY, MIYUKI! FIRST YEARS SHOULDN’T BUTT IN WHERE THEY DON’T BELONG!” 

Azuma steps forward, his presence underwhelming, glaring squarely at Miyuki. There’s a flare of cockiness in his stance and voice that carried across the field, and for a moment, the attention shifted away from Sawamura entirely. 

Miyuki doesn’t move right away. He remains where he is, still tossing the ball lightly in his hand as if the threats don’t concern him, the smirk never quite leaving his face. 

“Ahh…hahaha…I’m soooo sorry~” he begins, the apology sounding deliberately exaggerated before his tone shifts, the lightness thinning just enough to reveal something sharper beneath it. “But Azuma-san, lately you’ve been something of a big mouth. You play like a little kid, but I guess it’s nice you’re trying to hold onto that youthful spirit.

The air tightness is instant. Azuma’s expression hardens; the insult lands quite cleanly as the surrounding noise fades just enough for the tension to settle between them. 

Miyuki finally stands.

And when he does, his gaze shifts back to Sawamura, fully this time, like everything else has been set aside. 

For a brief second, Sawamura could smell a similar faint smell of wooden dirt slowly spreading.  He hasn’t smelt it since that winter day. It’s faint, almost imperceptible, but it lingers at the edge of his senses, something brushing past him without him noticing. It makes his chest feel tight in a way he can’t explain. Miyuki’s presence has changed; it isn’t just confidence, but something heavier beneath it. Sawamura's eyes sparkle without his realisation. From the side. Rei watches the exchange with growing interest, her eyes moving between the two boys as if trying to piece together something unsaid. 

“Miyuki-kun, do yourself a favour and pay attention,” Rei said confidently. “That kid can throw a very interesting pitch.”

“I know his potential,” Miyuki answered quietly.

Rei blinked at the offhand response.

Miyuki gathered his gear as he walking toward the plate, eyes fixed steadily toward the mound.

“Let’s just say the match you saw that day is not his best yet.” 

Sawamura didn’t hear any of it. Right now, he only cared about one thing.

Showing Miyuki how much he had improved and he doesn’t need him anymore. 

Miyuki gave the sign.

Fastball.

Sawamura frowned immediately behind his glove.

No way.

Azuma’s swing was heavy enough that a normal fastball would get crushed. Sawamura could already imagine the sound of the bat connecting cleanly.

So he changed his grip at the last second.

The ball snapped sharply across the plate.

“FOUL!” 

The field buzzed loudly for a moment before Miyuki suddenly stood up and came up to Sawamura's face. 

“That wasn’t the pitch I called.”

Sawamura clicked his tongue and looked away. “So what?”

Miyuki narrowed his eyes slightly behind the mask. “You changed the grip.”

“Because he would’ve hit it.”

“That’s not the point.”

Sawamura’s irritation rose immediately. Of course Miyuki would say that. Of course he would walk back into his life after disappearing for years and start acting like he understood everything.

“This has nothing to do with you,” Sawamura muttered, tightening his grip around the ball. “It’s between me and him.”

For a brief second, Miyuki went quiet.

Then he stepped closer to Sawamura, their face was an inch apart. 

“Don’t be stupid,” he said flatly. “There’s no way you play baseball alone.”

Sawamura annoyed. 

Miyuki smack the glove toward Sawamura chest. 

“The pitcher and catcher are a battery. You know that already.” His gaze stayed fixed on Sawamura. “Both sides trust each other and we create a work of art.”

“You’re too busy trying to fight him by yourself right now.” Miyuki’s voice lowered slightly. “Stop focusing on all the noise around you and look only at the mitt.”

Sawamura hated how familiar that sounded.

Those summers when they play catch. The sound of the wind mixing with the pounding sound of the ball landing in the mitt.

Before everything fell apart.

Miyuki lifted the glove again.

“Throw it with me this time, partner.”

The sentence landed heavily in Sawamura’s chest.

Five years ago, Miyuki had said the same thing while crouching in the middle of a dirt field behind Wakana’s house, acting like the distance between pitcher and catcher could always be closed that easily.

Back then, Sawamura believed him without hesitation.

And then Miyuki left.

Sawamura pulled his cap lower over his eyes before stepping back onto the mound.

Miyuki crouched behind the plate again. This time, when he gave the sign, Sawamura actually looked at it properly.

Four-seam fastball. 

Sawamura exhaled slowly as he adjusted the seams beneath his fingertips. His grip settled naturally now compared to years ago. He understood control better. Understood how not to force every pitch through emotion alone.

Azuma smirked from the batter’s box. “What happened? Finally done throwing bad pitches?”

“Shut up.”

Sawamura stepped forward sharply into his motion. The ball disappeared briefly behind his body before his arm whipped forward.

This time he threw directly toward the mitt.

Azuma swung hard.

The sharp pound of Miyuki’s mitt echoed across the field as the bat cut underneath the ball completely.

Silence followed for half a second.

Then Miyuki smiled.

“There it is,” Miyuki said quietly as he tossed the ball back. “That’s your pitch.”

Sawamura caught it against his chest harder than necessary.

His heartbeat refused to settle.

After the final pitch, Sawamura grabbed onto Miyuki’s sleeve before he could walk away completely.

“Kazu.”

The small smile lingering on Miyuki’s face disappeared almost immediately as he turned back toward him.

For the first time they interact, the space between them finally felt real.

“How have you been?”

The question came out rougher than Sawamura intended. Too many years sat behind those words. Too many things left unanswered.

After the winter accident, the Miyuki family had vanished completely from his life. No calls. No visits. Nothing. Even Wakana, who used to be close to Miyuki, never understood why the distance suddenly appeared between both families.

And somehow, standing here now, Miyuki still looked frustratingly calm.

“I’m doing fine.”

Sawamura clenched his jaw slightly.

That wasn’t what he meant.

The thought of leaving his team behind had always existed somewhere in the back of his mind. He knew eventually he would have to move forward if he truly wanted to play serious baseball. But following Miyuki again after everything that happened felt different. Dangerous somehow.

“Why did you leave me, Kazu?” Sawamura asked quietly. “Five years without even contacting me once… I thought we were closer than that.”

For a brief second, something shifted across Miyuki’s expression.

It disappeared almost immediately.

“Sawamura,” Miyuki said calmly, “I think it’s better if you stop looking at me as your childhood friend.”

The words felt colder than Sawamura could imagine. I

“Look at me as your senpai. Your teammate.” Miyuki adjusted the glove beneath his arm before continuing. “If you want to keep growing, if you want to reach higher levels, then you need to stop clinging to the idea of playing fun baseball with your friends.”

Sawamura’s brows furrowed instantly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means serious baseball isn’t built on emotions alone.” Miyuki’s gaze stayed steady on him. “The players who survive are the ones willing to leave things behind.”

Miyuki stepped past him slowly.

“This is all I’m going to say for now.” His voice lowered slightly. “When the time comes and you’ve made your decision, I’ll see you then.”

Sawamura’s grip tightened at his side.

“And if I don’t?”

Miyuki paused without turning around.

“Then don’t bother associating with me.”

The words landed harder than Sawamura expected.

For a moment he could only stare at Miyuki’s back, anger and confusion twisting painfully together inside his chest. Part of him wanted to yell. To demand a proper explanation for why Miyuki disappeared all those years ago and suddenly returned acting like none of it mattered.

But another part of him understood exactly what Miyuki was doing.

“…Fine,” he muttered quietly.

⚾️🧢⚾️🧢

”Sawamura, please call us if you change your mind. We will be waiting until…” Rei handed him her card as he step inside the train station. 

After that, everything was a blur. From Tokyo to home, from the bath to the bed he now sat on. The sound of Miyuki's mitt still echoed in his head. It only made him want more.

He had spent years trying to prove that he didn't need Miyuki anymore. Pulling out a magazine with Miyuki's interview on a tap he kept, Sawamura stared at it quietly. Without realizing it, he had been keeping track of that stupid tanuki all this time.

Even now.

Against the promise he made to his team, he found himself choosing that bastard again.

Just this once, he wanted to be selfish.

🧢