Chapter Text
There are five things that all athletes who come to live at the Seidou baseball dorms learn over the course of their tenure there. These, albeit unofficial rules, constitute the sole defense against complete and utter chaos – an event not so unlikely when you put around a 100 hormonal teenage boys in a vaguely supervised living situation.
The Seido Baseball Club as a collective learns them like all of them do: completely accidentally.
- Don’t mention it. It being:
Sawamura bounds into the cafeteria, hollering about one thing or another. Haruichi can hear the words baseball, ace, pitch most prominently, but the actual meaning of the speech, aimed at a barely-awake Furuya, is promptly silenced by a well-aimed kick by Kanemaru. It had been a long and grueling day of conditioning. Coach Kataoka had run them through a frankly abusive training agenda and Haruichi had spent far too long spitting out dirt and trying not to vomit all over the bases. He shudders at the memory of the day. So many base sprints.
The entire team wears the marks of the practice. The cafeteria is silent, with most of the boys who could summon up the energy to drag themselves to a meal slumped over the table, bowls of rice tauntingly in front of them. ‘Obviously no one gave Sawamura the memo,’ Haruichi sighs, glancing over at his friend. The pitcher is no less exuberant than he was in the morning. His energy levels are completely ignorant of his embarrassing attempts at batting and the subsequent laps he was forced to do for the last hour of practice. Granted, Haruichi amends, the laps were less to do because of Sawamura’s ineptitude at batting and more to do with his ear-splitting shouts whenever Miyuki, Furyua, Miyuki, Kuramochi, or Miyuki would make contact with the ball. Considering all three were in first-string, with one being the literal clean-up, it was more surprising that it took that long for Sawamura to be sent on his way rather than the punishment itself.
As Haruichi is mentally applauding their coach for his patience and resoluteness in the face of adversity, Sawamura slides into the seat next to him. His eyes pass from Haruichi’s face to his hands, and he nods resolutely, sliding Haruichi’s bowl of rice next to his. “You city boys can’t handle anything! You know, a stiff breeze and a couple of laps could never bring down a country boy like me.” He chortles, spooning rice into his mouth at a horrifying rate. “Never fear though, Harucchi! I will save you from today’s required three bowls! I can eat about six right now. And you know, an ace must keep his strength up!” He shoots Furuya, still comatose a few seats away, a provocative look and then happily continues shoveling rice and curry into his mouth.
“Well , Eijun-kun, if you would like six bowls I could make that happen,” Haruichi deadpans.
Sawamura pales at his expression and weakly laughs as he waves his hands towards him. “No, no, no, there’s no need,” he wheezes out. “Just this one will be fine. You know, as a gift to you.”
Haruichi internally smiles, a fondness for his friend erasing the bone-deep tiredness previously filling his bones. He continues eating, absent-mindenedly listening to Swamura’s chatter about a new book he and one of the girls in his class were discussing during break. There was a princess and a dragon but also a robot? Haruichi could never wrap his mind around shoujo manga and he was not going to begin trying now. As Sawamura begins animatedly mimicking ‘Akane-chan’s shock at the plot twist, Harucchi, I’m telling you the dragon makes a serious comeback’, the cafeteria doors open once-more to reveal the sharp smirk of their captain and catcher.
“Oh Sawamura, your lungs must seriously be able to take a lot if you’re still shouting at that level. Should I request the coach to put you on an additional training schedule so you can really run the rest of that energy out? Your laps were looking particularly sluggish towards the end there~.”
Sawamura cuts off and immediately whips around. Haruichi internally sighs and puts his head on the table, bracing for –
“MIYUKI KAZUYA. How dare you besmirch my honor like that!
“It’s not bismirching if it’s true, dumbass,” Kuramochi makes an entrance on the scene. His fringe is drooping under the sweat and he grimaces at Haruichi before sliding into place on the bench. “Hey Haruichi, sorry for this idiot.”
“Why are you apologizing to him, you terrible senpai!! I have done nothing but be the utmost best friend and save my dear Harucchi from a fate that should not have befallen him!” Sawamura fumes at Kuramochi, who proceeds to ignore him by pulling out his phone. Haruichi sees him reflexively thumb over his messages, opening and closing one name in particular where a block of texts has been sent with no response. ‘Oh Aniki,’ Haruichi groans internally and then represses any other thoughts about his avoidant older brother.
He turns back to the pair, Sawamura and Miyuki, snarking at each other over the table. Their faces have gotten closer since he last noticed, bare inches away from touching. ‘Not that they realize,’ he admits, as Miyuki’s smirk gets sharper with every pointed comment he makes about Sawamura’s baseball ability.
The normal senpai-kohai relationship does not apply to them. Neither does the normal captain-member or catcher-pitcher relationship either, Haruichi amends. The two of them are constantly circling each other, hissing and scratching: Sawamura bursting with rage and Miyuki calmly biting back. He wonders how long it will take for them to realize that the other isn’t going anywhere, gravity pulling them together inexplicably. Well, we all have our insecurities,’ he sighs, pausing to glance back at Kuramochi’s fringe, practically plastered to his forehead as he pouts at his screen.
“Eijun-kun, would you mind sitting down so we can finish our dinner. In peace.” Sawamura startles, instinctively widening the once inch-gap between his nose and Miyuki’s chin. He glares down at Miyuki and humphs, slamming back down on the table and ferociously shoveling rice into his mouth. Miyuki pauses and shoots Haruichi a look, smile sharpening dangerously. ‘That’s right, you’re not the only one who can grab his attention,’ Haruichi narrows his eyes and smiles. Haruichi comes from a line of second basemen that have instilled fear in the hearts of the baseball team, and the school of Seidou as a whole, with one look. No matter what Miyuki would like to think, he is not excluded from this. Ryosuke might be long gone, but his effect remains strong. Haruichi is more than his genetics but he is not without their strength.
Miyuki turns his head away, conceding the match. He begins spooning at the rice and starts prodding Kuramochi about some homework he seemed to have forgotten to do. “What, did you forget again ? You know Yasano-sensei is not going to forgive you this time, you’re not nearly handsome enough to slide this one by her again. Me on the other hand…” Miyuki thoughtfully trails off.
“You, on the other hand, need all the help you can get.” Sawamura snarks over the table, in between mouthfuls of rice. “Your fanclub has noticeably dwindled in size. Do you think they’ve finally realized that your face can’t make up for the steaming garbage pile that is your shitty personality?” Miyuki positively beams, whipping his head towards Sawamura. “You’ve noticed my fanclub? What, would you like to join Sawamura? I’m sure I could rustle up a membership for my dear kouhai if you would like.”
Sawamura slams down the bowl, licked clean, and makes to start on the next bowl. “No thanks, I’d rather die.” Miyuki slams a finger on the bowl before Sawamura can pick it up, forcing him to look up. “Are you sure? You seem irritated right now. Maybe even jealous~.”
Sawamura swipes his hand away, eyes flaring with rage. “The only person’s fanclub I would join would be someone like Chris-senpai, not some tanuki-faced bastard like you.” Miyuki barely bats an eye because as much as he would also like to deny this, he is also not excluded from idolizing Chris-senpai. Miyuki opens his mouth to continue just as Sawamura muses, “Or maybe someone like Sanada-senpai. He deserves his fanclub.”
Haruichi groans internally. Checkmate. Kuramochi finally rips his eyes away from his screen and taking one glance at Miyuki’s face, starts cackling. Miyuki’s mouth is wide-open, eyes round as he watches Sawamura polish off his last bowl and get up. He says nothing as Sawamura walks out, the door punctuating his exit with a thud.
Kuramochi slaps Miyuki upside the head and finally begins eating his dinner. “You’re pathetic,” he intones at Miyuki, still staring at the door.
Haruichi sighs and finally turns back to his meal. ‘It is gravity’, he thinks, ‘although only one of them is weak enough to never be able to look away.’ Miyuki, white-knuckled and mouth firm, is still watching the door when Haruchi gets up to leave, rice untouched in front of him.