Chapter Text
Miyuki Kazuya had always been the smartest person in the room. He didn't just play baseball; he orchestrated it. He could strategize three steps ahead, reading people like dog-eared paperbacks and using their own weaknesses against them—both on the diamond and in the grueling game of real life. While his personality was undeniably grating, and he was arguably the world’s worst at expressing genuine vulnerability, his intentions were always razor-sharp. He possessed an uncanny intuition for when the atmosphere shifted, and right now, his instincts were screaming that something was fundamentally wrong. Specifically, something was off with his favorite southpaw.
To put it bluntly, Kazuya wasn't an idiot. He had eyes—even if they were perpetually framed by his signature glasses—and those eyes told him that Sawamura had been "glitched" for the past week. The rest of the Seidou team might have disagreed; after all, Sawamura was still acting like a loudmouthed, high-energy brat, screaming "Oshi! Oshi!" at the top of his lungs and laughing with that obnoxious, glass-shattering vibrato. But while the voice was the same, the body language told Kazuya a different story entirely.
Curiously, his pitching remained flawless. During their bullpen sessions, Sawamura was a pillar of concentration, absorbing Kazuya’s critiques and obsessively refining his grips. On the mound, there were no complaints. Yet, Kazuya could sense a frantic whirlwind spinning inside Sawamura’s dense little head. Whenever Kazuya tried to poke for the truth, the pitcher would merely stammer, laugh it off with a forced grin, or—most suspiciously—fall into a sudden, uncharacteristic silence, his eyes narrowing into those wide, golden cat-slits.
That had been the first red flag.
The second sign was the one the rest of the team noticed but lazily ignored. Sawamura was a creature of habit; his ritual involved a nightly run with his "precious" tire before meals and showers. Usually, the coaches had to drag him back by his collar to stop him from overtraining. But this week, the ritual had broken. He had shortened his sessions significantly and had even skipped his runs twice—a move so out of character it was practically a medical emergency.
Sawamura never skipped runs. He lived for the grind. So, what had changed?
The thing that truly gnawed at Kazuya’s patience was the disappearing act. Sawamura would vanish thirty minutes into his routine, staying gone for two full hours before reappearing as if he’d never left. He was being uncharacteristically sneaky—so much so that even Furuya, his constant shadow and rival, had no clue where he was wandering off to.
Tonight, Kazuya decided he’d had enough of the mystery. As the captain and the man who held Sawamura’s career in his mitt, he needed to know what his pitcher was plotting. He sat on the concrete stairs, feigning interest in a scorebook, while keeping a predatory watch on the two airheaded pitchers. Exactly thirty minutes in, the moment arrived.
‘Oh, look at that... he’s taking the tire with him. Alright, here we go.’
Watching Sawamura attempt to be "stealthy" was a comedy in itself. The boy was practically vibrating with nerves, glancing over his shoulder every two seconds to ensure no one was watching. Once he was convinced that the coast was clear (and that Miyuki was safely buried in his notes), he didn't just walk away—he bolted.
"Shit," Miyuki hissed under his breath. He stood up, abandoning his post. He opted for a brisk power-walk rather than a sprint; he didn't want to give his position away, and he knew these grounds well enough to track the boy from a distance.
The path Sawamura chose was an overgrown, abandoned trail—quiet, eerie, and shrouded in the long shadows of the Japanese evening. It was the kind of creepy place a superstitious guy like Sawamura would normally avoid like the plague.
‘Is it a secret tryst? A secret girlfriend?’ Kazuya wondered, a strange weight settling in his chest. ‘No, I’m doing the right thing. If this affects his form, I have to intervene.’
He followed the trail until it opened up near a massive, ancient tree on the left side of the path. Suddenly, a sound broke the silence—one Kazuya hadn't anticipated in a million years. It wasn't the sound of a romantic meeting. It was a sharp, tiny bark followed by a high-pitched squeal that was unmistakably Sawamura.
From his vantage point, Kazuya watched a small, golden and dark-brown bundle of fur launch itself at the pitcher. Sawamura caught the creature mid-air, beaming with a radiance that rivaled the sun as the puppy showered his face with frantic licks.
‘A puppy? Seriously?’
Kazuya suppressed a laugh, shaking his head. He leaned against a tree on the opposite side of the clearing, crossing his arms. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but the sight was undeniably heart-melting. Eijun looked... soft. For all his bravado, the boy truly did have a heart of pure gold.
"Waahh! Ren, stop it! Daddy brought you a surprise! Look!" Sawamura giggled, sitting cross-legged on the dirt. He reached into a bag and pulled out a small container. The pup bounced on his lap, tail wagging like a propeller.
"I know, I know! Just wait! I saved some meat from my lunch specifically for you. It’s a bit cold, but you liked it last night, right? Here you go, buddy..."
It was a scene Kazuya wished he could freeze in time. The fierce, loudmouthed Ace-contender was gone, replaced by a gentle soul carefully hand-feeding a stray. He had never seen Sawamura’s eyes look quite that warm.
"Ahem."
Miyuki cleared his throat, the sound echoing in the quiet clearing. Sawamura nearly jumped out of his skin. His terrified, high-pitched shriek sent Miyuki into a fit of laughter so intense he had to clutch his stomach.
"MIYUKI KAZUYA! WHAT... WHAT THE HELL?!"
"S-Sawamura..." Miyuki gasped between wheezes.
"What are you doing here?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
"Not my fault you're sneaking around like a criminal in the middle of the night on an abandoned path," Miyuki countered, finally regaining his composure.
"I—"
Before the pitcher could defend himself, the puppy—Ren—dropped its food and charged at Miyuki. The tiny beast growled with surprising ferocity before latched its teeth onto Miyuki’s expensive sneakers.
"Ow! Hey! Let go, you brat! That hurts!"
"Wahaha! He’s taking my revenge for me! You totally deserved that, Miyuki Kazuya!"
"Shut up and help me, will you?"
"Fine, fine! Ren! Come here, boy! Leave that mean old bastard alone!"
The pup obeyed instantly, trotting back to Sawamura’s side, though it kept its eyes locked on Miyuki, growling like a tiny bodyguard.
"What a brat," Miyuki muttered, inspecting his scuffed shoe. "Wow. I definitely wasn't expecting this."
As the reality of the situation set in, Sawamura’s bravado vanished. He looked down at his lap, his hands clenching into fists against his knees.
"What? Scared the Captain caught you on a secret mission?"
"I... please," Sawamura’s voice was small, his eyes darting up with a rare, desperate sincerity. "Please don't tell anyone, Miyuki-senpai."
"Oh, so it's 'senpai' now, is it?"
Kazuya knew exactly why the boy was pleading. He could read the fear in Sawamura's eyes. It was a simple, brutal truth: pets were strictly forbidden in the Seidou dorms. If this got out, Sawamura would be forced to abandon Ren to the elements. And seeing how the boy looked at the pup, Kazuya knew that would break him.
Miyuki smirked, his mind already spinning with the leverage he now held, though a softer part of him was already deciding how to help.
"Tell me, Sawamura... why should I keep your secret? What’s in it for me?"
Sawamura blinked, his jaw dropping slightly as he processed the question. He had expected Miyuki to demand extra fielding practice, or perhaps a week’s worth of cleaning duties, or even a promise to never shake off a sign again. But the smirk on Miyuki’s face wasn't his usual "evil strategist" look; it was something more predatory, yet strangely playful.
"my secret?" Sawamura repeated, his voice laced with suspicion. "Fine! Just say it! I’ll do anything, just don't take Ren away!"
Miyuki stepped closer, the moonlight glinting off his glasses. "It’s simple, really. If I’m going to be an accomplice in this little crime, I want equal rights. I want you to make sure this pup thinks of me as 'Papa' too. I want to be loved by him just as much as you are."
The silence that followed was heavy. Sawamura’s golden eyes widened until they were perfectly round. He had been braced for a soul-crushing ultimatum, but this? This was... domestic. It was absurd.
"Wait... that's it?" Sawamura stammered, his face heating up. "You just want the dog to like you? I thought you were gonna make me do something horrible!"
Miyuki chuckled, leaning down until he was at eye level with the flustered pitcher. "Oh? And what kind of 'horrible' things were you expecting, Sawamura? My, my... your imagination is a scary place."
"SHUT UP!" Sawamura barked, his blush deepening until it reached the tips of his ears. "I can do it! I’ll make him like you! It’ll be a miracle considering your personality, but I’ll do it!".
Miyuki straightened up, his expression sobering just a fraction. "Don’t celebrate yet. Hiding a living, breathing animal in the Seidou dorms is a massive risk. If we get caught, it’s both our heads on the chopping block. Because of that, I need one more thing from you."
Sawamura groaned, throwing his hands up in annoyance. "Again?! Why one more? I’m already giving you 'Papa' status! Isn't that enough for your ego?"
"Well," Miyuki shrugged, turning as if to walk back toward the dorms. "If you think the risk isn't worth the price, I suppose I could just go mention this to Coach Kataoka right now—"
"WAIT! NO! STOP!" Sawamura lunged forward, grabbing the back of Miyuki’s jacket with a desperate, angry grip. "Fine! You win! You absolute demon! Just tell me what it is!"
Miyuki glanced over his shoulder, a cryptic, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "I’ll tell you that one later. For now," he gestured to the golden-brown ball of fur currently huddled against Sawamura’s leg, "properly introduce me to Ren. I’d prefer if my future 'son' didn't treat my cleats like a chew toy."
Sawamura huffed, but he knelt down, beckoning the puppy forward. "Okay, Ren, listen up. I know he’s a mean, four-eyed bastard, but he’s... he’s okay. Don't bite him, okay? He’s a friend."
Ren didn't seem convinced. The puppy let out a low, vibrating growl, baring his tiny teeth at Miyuki’s shins.
"See? He knows you're a villain!" Sawamura joked, but then he realized he had to make this work. He stood up and took a hesitant step toward Miyuki. To prove their "bond" to the dog, Sawamura reached out and placed an arm over Miyuki’s shoulder, pulling himself close. He forced a bright, strained smile.
"Look, Ren! See? We’re close! This is Papa! He’s friendly! We're best friends!"
Miyuki felt the heat of Sawamura’s body pressed against his side. His heart gave a traitorous thump, but he didn't miss a beat. He reached out, sliding his arm firmly around Sawamura’s waist and pulling the pitcher flush against him, trapping him in a side-hug.
"That’s right," Miyuki murmured, his voice dropping an octave, sounding far more intimate than it had any right to be. "I’m very close to this loudmouthed idiot."
Sawamura froze, his breath hitching at the sudden closeness, but before he could protest the grip on his waist, Miyuki did something entirely unexpected. He leaned in and planted a quick, firm peck on Sawamura’s flushed cheek.
The world seemed to stop. Sawamura turned into a literal statue, his brain short-circuiting as the spot where Miyuki’s lips had touched tingled with a sudden, searing heat.
Ren, however, was an expert at reading vibes. Seeing the "affection" between the two humans, the puppy’s tail began to thrashed wildly. The growling stopped instantly. Ren let out a joyful yip, jumping up and pawing at Miyuki’s legs, barking happily as if to finally welcome the second "Papa" into the pack.
Miyuki looked down at the dog and then back at the frozen, beet-red pitcher in his arms, his smirk widening. "See? I told you I’m a quick study."
The silence in the clearing was absolute, broken only by the frantic wagging of Ren’s tail against the dry leaves. Sawamura remained paralyzed, his face a shade of crimson that put his red undershirt to shame. His brain was caught in a loop, replaying the sensation of Miyuki’s lips against his cheek over and over until he felt like he might actually combust.
Miyuki, ever the tactician, didn't miss a beat. He smoothly let go of Sawamura’s waist and knelt down, scooping the excited puppy into his arms.
"Woah, easy there, Ren!" Miyuki laughed, a genuine, warm sound that lacked his usual biting edge. The puppy was a whirlwind of energy, showering Miyuki’s chin and cheeks with a barrage of wet licks and happy yaps. "Alright, alright! I get it! We’re friends now."
Miyuki stood up, cradling the small bundle against his chest as if he’d been doing it his whole life. He turned toward the path, glancing back over his shoulder at the still-statuesque pitcher.
"Hey, Bakamura," Miyuki called out with a sharp chuckle. "Don’t just freeze there like a statue. If you want to get this little guy inside without being executed by the coaches, move your ass. Come on."
The insult snapped Sawamura out of his trance.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING BAKAMURA?! AND DON'T JUST ACT LIKE NOTHING HAPPENED, YOU CRUEL CAPTAIN!" He stomped after Miyuki, his face still glowing pink in the moonlight, but his anger was half-hearted. Watching Miyuki carry Ren so carefully—one hand supporting the pup’s bottom just right—made something in Sawamura’s chest ache with an unfamiliar, honey-like warmth.
As they neared the edge of the campus, the glow of the dorm lights and the distant thwack of bats hitting balls reminded them of the stakes. Several team members were still out in the yard, putting in extra swings.
"Wait here," Miyuki whispered, his eyes scanning the perimeter like a commander. He handed Ren back to a bewildered Sawamura and vanished toward the back gate—the route the boys usually took for late-night runs to Family Mart or 7/11.
A few minutes later, Miyuki reappeared, slightly out of breath, carrying a large, discarded cardboard box that once held bulk packs of instant ramen.
"In you go, Ren," Miyuki murmured, gently settling the puppy into the box. He leaned down, his voice barely a breath. "If you stay quiet, Papa is going to get you a nice, warm bed, okay? Be a good boy for us."
Sawamura watched the scene in silence. The sight of the "Wolf of Seidou" whispering sweet nothings to a stray puppy was enough to make his eyes soften. He’d always known Miyuki was a brilliant catcher, but seeing this side of him—this protective, conspiratorial side—felt like discovering a hidden pitch no one else knew about.
"Ready?" Miyuki asked, snapping Sawamura back to reality. "Keep a straight face."
They began the walk toward the entrance, Miyuki carrying the "ramen" box with practiced nonchalance. They had almost made it to the stairs when a familiar, sharp voice cut through the air.
"Oi! Where have you two been?"
Kuramochi stood there, arms crossed, flanked by Haruichi and Zono. They were clearly heading toward the cafeteria.
"Dinner’s about to be served," Haruichi added, tilting his head curiously. "And... is that a whole box of ramen?"
Zono narrowed his eyes. "Who’s eating all that junk? We have a balanced meal waiting inside!"
Miyuki didn't skip a beat. He plastered a mock-exasperated look on his face and nudged the box toward Sawamura. "Ask him. This idiot had a sudden craving. He’s been whining about 'soul food' for the last hour, so I had to escort him to the convenience store so he wouldn't get lost in the dark."
Sawamura’s jaw dropped. The audacity! He looked at Miyuki’s smug face and, without hesitation, brought his heavy cleat down hard on Miyuki’s toes.
"Ow—!" Miyuki hissed, though he kept his grip on the box steady.
"YES!" Sawamura shouted, his voice cracking slightly. "I CRAVED IT! MY SOUL DEMANDED THE SALTY BROTH OF THE CONVENIENCE STORE!"
Kuramochi sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. "Sawamura, you moron. You need real nutrients, not processed sodium. Don't let your appetite ruin your conditioning."
"I know, I know!" Sawamura promised, waving his hands frantically to distract them from any potential whimpers coming from the box. "I’ll only eat a single pack once in a while! I swear on my left arm!"
"Tch. Whatever," Kuramochi grumbled, gesturing toward the building. "Get inside, shower quick, and get to the cafeteria before Zono eats your portion of the real food."
"We're on it," Miyuki said, giving the group a dismissive wave as he hurried Sawamura toward the stairs.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Sawamura leaned in, whispering fiercely, "You're a total asshole for blaming me!"
"Hey," Miyuki smirked, shifting the box so Ren could get some air. "A small price to pay for 'daddy' to get his son into the dorms, right?"
Once they reached the safety of Sawamura’s room, they carefully set the ramen box down. Sawamura let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since the previous week. The room was quiet for now, but the looming threat of his roommates returning hung over them.
"Listen," Miyuki said, his voice low and serious as he looked around the cramped space. "We’re going to have to tell Kuramochi the second he gets back. There’s no way we can hide a dog from a guy who literally sleeps three feet away from you. Besides, keeping Ren anywhere else is too dangerous. If he cries while we're gone, someone will find him."
Sawamura’s face went pale. The thought of Kuramochi’s legendary dropkick was enough to make his spine shiver, but he knew Miyuki was right. He nodded solemnly. "Yeah... he’ll find out anyway. Better to confess than to be caught by a surprise bark."
"Right. But before that, we have a bigger problem," Miyuki noted, gesturing to the puppy. Ren was currently sniffing a stray sock, and his golden fur was matted with dirt and dried mud from the abandoned path. "He’s filthy. We need to bathe."
Sawamura looked at the pup and then at the clock. "We should take him to the communal baths now while everyone is distracted with dinner. One of us could stay behind, but Ren is so small—he’ll get scared if he’s left alone in a strange room."
"He needs a proper scrub," Sawamura added, looking at Miyuki with a mischievous glint. "And since you're 'Papa' now, you should help Daddy clean him."
Miyuki let out a long, dramatic sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I really walked right into that one, didn't I? Fine. Let's go before the rush starts."
They moved with tactical precision. Armed with towels and a small bottle of mild soap, they sneaked Ren into the communal bath area. Luck was on their side—the steam-filled room was empty, the sound of splashing water replaced by the distant clatter of the cafeteria down the hall.
They stripped off their sweat-soaked practice gear in record time. Standing under the showerheads, they tag-teamed the operation. It was a chaotic sight: the genius catcher and the loudmouthed Ace-hopeful, both soaking wet, gently lathering a tiny, confused puppy.
"Gently, Miyuki-senpai! You’re scrubbing him like he’s a baseball!" Sawamura hissed.
"He’s got mud in his fur, Sawamura! I’m trying to be thorough!" Miyuki retorted, though his hands were surprisingly tender as he rinsed the suds away.
Once Ren was smelling faintly of soap and looking twice as fluffy, they quickly scrubbed themselves down. Miyuki glanced longingly at the large, steaming soaking tub. Usually, he’d spend at least fifteen minutes letting the hot water soothe his aching joints, but tonight, there was no time. With a heavy heart and a mental apology to his muscles, he skipped the soak entirely.
They dressed in their clean pajamas with frantic haste. Miyuki draped a dry towel over Ren, bundling him up like a little burrito to hide him, and they made a break for the room.
The door clicked shut behind them, and finally, they could breathe. The room felt ten degrees warmer as they placed the damp, happy pup on the floor. Ren immediately began an enthusiastic exploration of the room, sniffing the legs of the bunk bed and wagging his tail.
Exhausted, Miyuki and Sawamura collapsed onto the lower bunk, sitting side by side. Their shoulders touched, their hair still damp from the rushed shower.
"Man..." Miyuki breathed out, leaning his head back against the wall. "That was way harder than I thought it would be. Strategizing against Inashiro is easier than bathing a puppy in secret."
Sawamura nodded vigorously, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a weary but content slump. "Yeah. It’s definitely a lot of work. But..." He looked down at Ren, who had finally curled up on a discarded t-shirt. "It’s worth it."
Miyuki glanced at Sawamura out of the corner of his eye, seeing the soft smile on the younger boy’s face, and for once, he didn't have a witty comeback. He just sat there, sharing the quiet moment with his pitcher and their secret.
The silence in the room was heavy and sweet, the only sound being the rhythmic, tiny huffs of Ren’s breathing as he curled into a ball, his eyes drooping.
"Miyuki-senpai..." Sawamura murmured.
Miyuki hummed a low, absentminded response, his gaze still fixed on the puppy.
"Thank you."
The sincerity in Sawamura’s voice forced Miyuki to turn his head. Sitting side by side on the narrow mattress, their shoulders were firmly pressed together, and in the small room, their faces were suddenly, dangerously close. The damp scent of soap and the lingering heat from the shower seemed to pull them into a private orbit.
Sawamura’s golden eyes were wide and shimmering with a vulnerability that caught Miyuki off guard. "I’m really happy you’re helping me. I don't think I could've done this alone. So... thanks for helping me sneak in our son."
Miyuki’s chest tightened, a soft, genuine chuckle escaping his lips. "Well," he whispered, his voice dropping to that intimate, velvety register that always made Sawamura’s heart race. "Since he’s my son too, Papa had to bring him home, didn't he?"
For a heartbeat, the atmosphere shifted. The teasing was gone, replaced by a magnetic pull that had both of them inching forward. Their eyes stayed locked, their breaths mingling in the small gap between them. Just as the distance was about to vanish and their lips were a fraction of an inch from touching, Miyuki’s internal alarm bells went off.
He blinked, the captain's logic slamming back into place. With a smirk that was more protective than mocking, he reached out and roughly ruffled Sawamura’s damp hair.
"We need to go have dinner soon, idiot," Miyuki said, breaking the spell as he pulled back. "Unless you want to face a three-course meal of starvation tonight."
Sawamura jumped as if he’d been electrocuted, his face erupting in a fresh wave of red. "AH! DINNER! I forgot!" Then, panic set in as he looked at the sleeping pup. "Wait, we can't! We can’t leave Ren alone! What if he wakes up and cries? What if he eats my glove?! Miyuki-senpai, we’re stuck!"
"Calm down—"
SLAM.
The door flew open with a violent bang that made both of them leap nearly to the ceiling.
"OI! SAWAMURA! How long are you gonna keep everyone waiting for your stupid—"
Kuramochi’s roar died in his throat. He froze in the doorway, his eyes darting from the flustered Captain and Pitcher sitting on the bed to the tiny, golden-brown creature that had just been startled awake. Ren, sensing the intrusion, didn't bark; instead, he scrambled across the floor, whining softly as he tried to hide in the small space between Miyuki and Eijun’s legs.
The silence that followed was terrifying.
Kuramochi didn't scream. Instead, he reached back, slowly closed the door, and clicked the lock with a chilling snick. He turned back to them, his shadow looming large over the room, his face a mask of disbelief and impending doom.
"What the hell," Kuramochi hissed, pointing a trembling finger at the pup, "is a dog doing in this room? You both know the rules. Pets are strictly forbidden. Are you two trying to get the entire team suspended, or have you finally lost your damn minds?"
Sawamura’s hands flew up in a frantic, defensive gesture. "Cheetah-senpai! Wait! I can explain everything! It’s not what it looks like—well, it is a dog, but there’s a very logical, emotional reason—"
"Save it, Sawamura," Miyuki interrupted, his voice surprisingly calm despite the locked door and Kuramochi’s murderous aura. He didn't move away from Eijun; if anything, he sat firmer. "I’ll give it to you straight, Mochi. Eijun found him, and now we’re both keeping him. We’ve already decided. We aren't giving him away, and frankly, we need you to help us hide him."
Kuramochi’s eye twitched. "Are you hearing yourself, Miyuki? 'We'? Since when did you become a co-parent to a stray? We have Koshien in a few weeks! You’re the Captain, for god's sake! Act like you have a brain cell that isn't focused on a mitt or this brat’s feelings!"
"I know how it sounds," Miyuki said, his gaze softening as he looked down at Ren, who was shivering against his ankle. "It’s stupid. It’s risky. But look at him. He’s just like his dad—he’s a little ball of sunshine. He’s our mini-Eijun. I'm not letting him go back to that dark path alone."
"YEAH!" Sawamura chirped in, gaining confidence. "Kuramochi-senpai, please! Ren is special! He has the heart of a warrior! He didn't even cry when we bathed him! He’s a Seidou soul through and through! If you kick him out, you’re kicking out a teammate!"
"He’s a dog, you absolute moron!" Kuramochi barked, but the volume of his voice lacked its usual bite. He stared at the trio—the genius catcher who had clearly lost his mind to love, the idiot pitcher who was always too kind for his own good, and the tiny creature caught in the middle. "You’re both insane. This is going to blow up in our faces."
"It won't," Miyuki promised, his expression turning into the one he wore during the ninth inning of a tied game. "I won't let this distract us from practice. I’ll take full responsibility. But I don't have a choice, Mochi. I’m already attached."
Kuramochi groaned, rubbing his face. The silence stretched for a long beat before he dropped his hand and looked at the bundle of fur. "Ren, huh?" He let out a long, weary sigh and knelt on the floor. "Hey. Come here, you little trouble-maker."
Ren, terrified by the previous shouting, scrambled further up Sawamura’s leg, hiding his face in the folds of Eijun’s sweatpants.
"Ah, Ren-ren, it's okay!" Sawamura whispered, petting the pup’s head gently. "Mochi-senpai sounds like a scary monster, but he’s actually a very nice person! He’s a friend! He’s... he’s your Uncle!"
"Uncle?!" Kuramochi snapped, though he lowered his voice. "Fine. Come here, Ren. I’m not gonna hurt you."
Ren peeked out, sniffing the air. Slowly, sensing the shift in the room's energy, the pup crawled toward the green-haired shortstop. Kuramochi reached out, his calloused hand—usually used for lightning-fast double plays—now gently scratching behind the puppy's ears. Ren let out a tiny, happy huff and leaned into the touch.
"Tch. He even feels like Sawamura," Kuramochi muttered, his gaze lingering on the dog. He stood up abruptly, returning to his "tough roommate" persona and glaring at the two on the bed. "Listen. If this dog gets us caught, I’m claiming I’ve never seen him before in my life. Now, get your asses to the cafeteria. You've missed half of dinner already, and if you don't show up now, the coaches are going to come looking. We’ll discuss the 'logistics' of this madness when you get back."
"YES, SIR!" Sawamura shouted, nearly tripping over himself.
"Move it!" Kuramochi pointed to the door.
The two of them scrambled, Miyuki giving Kuramochi a quick, grateful nod as they slipped out into the hallway, leaving their secret—and their "son"—in the temporary care of the team’s fiercest shortstop.
The atmosphere in the cafeteria was a chaotic blend of clattering trays and the boisterous roar of hungry athletes, but to Miyuki and Sawamura, it felt like walking through a minefield. They moved in sync, sliding into the serving line with practiced nonchalance, though Sawamura’s heart was still drumming against his ribs like a frantic percussionist.
Once they had piled their trays high with the mandatory portions of rice and protein, they made their way over to the table where the core of the Seidou lineup was already gathered. Furuya was staring blankly into his soup, Haruichi was chatting with Kanemaru and Tojou, and Zono was halfway through a massive mouthful of beef.
"There they are! The late-night ramen connoisseurs," Haruichi teased with a soft smile as they sat down.
Kanemaru looked up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Ramen? Since when does Sawamura get a whole box of ramen delivered to the dorms?"
"He didn't get it delivered, he went on a pilgrimage for it!" Miyuki chimed in, his voice loud enough to carry over the table. He leaned back, wearing that signature, irritating smirk. "He looked me dead in the eye and said his 'soul was crying out' for instant noodles. I thought he was going to start a ritual in the middle of the path."
"I DID NOT!" Sawamura barked, though he quickly shoveled a huge spoonful of rice into his mouth to hide his flaming cheeks. "I just... I needed a change of pace! And then we had to take a long bath to wash off the smell of the convenience store and the night air!"
Tojou chuckled, shaking his head. "A bath? That explains why your hair is still a mess, Eijun. You guys were in there forever."
"Well, you know Sawamura," Miyuki said, casting a sidelong, wicked glance at his pitcher. "He’s a very high-maintenance partner. He kept insisting we get every spot clean. It’s exhausting being his 'captain' sometimes."
The table erupted into laughter. The double meaning sailed right over the heads of the other players, who simply assumed Miyuki was complaining about Sawamura’s usual bullpen antics. Even Furuya looked up, a small "hmpf" of amusement escaping him before he went back to his food.
Under the cover of the laughter and the loud conversation about tomorrow's practice schedule, the tension finally began to bleed out of Sawamura’s shoulders. The secret was safe for another hour. The "ramen box" had worked, the bath was accounted for, and Kuramochi was currently guarding the fort.
Sawamura leaned slightly toward Miyuki, pretending to reach for the water pitcher.
"Hey," he whispered, his voice barely audible under the din of the cafeteria. "Thanks, Miyuki-senpai. Seriously."
Miyuki didn't look at him, focused instead on deboning his fish with surgical precision, but a small, genuine corner of his mouth tucked upward. "Eat your rice, Bakamura. Papa’s got everything under control."
Sawamura rolled his eyes, but for the first time in a week, he ate with a real appetite, the warmth of the cafeteria finally matching the warmth growing in his chest.