Chapter Text
It happened the summer before the last year of elementary school. Eijun was in enough pain to finally admit he didn’t even have the desire to go to baseball practice and almost no detectable appetite. It was thought he might just have a bad case of the flu when the vomiting started, but when he could barely hold up his own body weight was when enough concern grew. Eijun could still remember the smile his mother wore as tears rolled down her cheeks at the news: Cancer. It wasn’t a word he knew much about, being only 10 years old, but he did know it was scary.
They weren’t able to stay in Nagano after that. The hospital there wasn’t equipped with the most up to date treatment care for a childhood cancer like leukemia, specifically the type he had: B-cell ALL. The type that took longer treatment and was harsher on kids over the age of 9. (Eijun didn’t want to think about how his parents looked when the doctor explained that part).
The move to Tokyo didn’t take long after a doctor agreed to see to his treatment. Dr. Hayakawa was a nice lady, too. She didn’t shy away from trying to talk to Eijun about the scary stuff, but knew how to explain it to him.
The induction was brutal. The bone marrow draw was terrible. It left his right hip sore for weeks and the news from it didn’t help. His white blood cell count wasn’t high, necessarily, but it wasn’t considered in the lower end of the scale.
The first treatments of chemo were also the worst. His newly place port under his right collar bone left the upper right side of his body sore before the effects even set in. His type of leukemia was one that had the doctors worried, even if they didn’t share that bit of information with him. He could tell by the way they stared at him and the way everyone wore masks around him suddenly. He knew it more when he was told he would be an in-patient for much longer than originally discussed. Something about keeping his immune system safe and how his won’t be working too well.
He didn’t know how he kept smiling and being cheerful when his hair started falling out or when more of his bones seemed to protrude from his paling skin. He was a rather sickly sight and had mastered ignoring the few mirrors in his room. But it made everyone else happy when he smiled, so that's what he kept doing even with the few mouth sores he got from treatment.
Almost a year into his treatment (his 11th birthday came and passed with his family practically in tears at the sight of him with his birthday balloons), he didn't show much change, but in a way that was good (at least according to his doctor): he wasn’t getting any sicker. He didn’t tell his parents about the nightmares he was having of the hospital room. He hadn’t gone outside in who remembered how long or managed to really stand properly after being tired from all the treatments. Thankfully he was able to keep his attention focused on baseball, still, even if he couldn’t play it any more.
The TV in the room was almost constantly going with baseball games. It was one of the few things that Eijun actually enjoyed about the place. It had more games than what he was able to watch at home before and now that he couldn’t spend most of his time playing baseball, it at least felt nice to watch it. He didn’t even realize how much fun it was to watch baseball, he always thought it was just the playing part that was good.
Whenever he had the chance he also made sure to practice different grips on his ball. None of them were ones he got to try before considering, at the time, they were too advanced and physically straying for a child’s body to handle. But he wanted to still feel the way they felt in his hand. Give him hope that he might be able to throw the ball again.
He particularly enjoyed the activity when he got to sit in front of the large window that looked out over the surrounding city of Tokyo. He was allowed to be in the children’s lobby, in his wheelchair, with a mask on, and socialize with the other kids periodically during the week. It was the only time he got to spend with his friend, Asuka, who also enjoyed baseball. She said that her brother was on one of the top senior league teams and Eijun found himself jealous. It wasn’t fair , but he couldn’t say that out loud. Everyone would get upset if he said that.
“Onii-chan will be coming by tomorrow,” Asuka spoke as she adjusted the hat on her head. Like himself, she had lost all of her hair and would often get cold so she almost always had some type of knitted hat on.”He’s probably going to bring the winning trophy, too.” She snickered at Eijun’s wide eyes.
“He won!” Eijun exclaimed in the loudest voice he could muster. It sounded dry and a bit horse, the newest round of treatment left him gagging most of the night and vomiting what little stomach contents he had.
Asuka had shared that her brother had made it to the finals in the summer tournament that he had been in. Apparently their team was even the favorite to win. Eijun could only imagine what it must feel like to play.
“Not yet, idiot, the game is today , they should be starting about now,” she tutted. Even with her mask on he knew she was wearing a rather deep scowl with how her blue eyes glowered at him.
“Then how do you know he’ll get to bring the trophy?” Eijun asked curiously.
“Because he’s the best pitcher ever, duh.” The duh seemed to smack him in the face. Asuka could be a rather ruthless 9 year old.
“How can you say that if he hasn’t even won yet?” Because he’s always the best , something inside him wanted to say.
Eijun had never met Asuka’s onii-chan in person (or even knew his name for that matter), but from the way she described him, he was exactly what Eijun wanted himself to be. He was a southpaw pitcher and one with a mean fast ball, according to Asuka. He was a great batter and had an eye for ticking off other teams and their pitchers. Apparently those were his favorite people to strike out. Eijun didn’t want to admit that he would probably also enjoy beating another team’s pitcher like that.
Other parts of him found himself happy that he hadn’t ever met him. Not that he would ever tell Asuka that, though, she loved her brother so much in the way she always talked about him. Eijun knew why he felt that way, he was jealous. Her onii-chan was healthy and playing in games and against teams he could only imagine. All Eijun could do was practice different grips from the several baseball books that had accumulated in his room and watch any game he could get his hands on. (His parents had even started to rent DVDs of some really old games and teams. Eijun was surprised there was even such a thing, but the types of games that were shown then made sense, they were amazing and worth recording and selling to re-watch).
“Because Onii-chan is the best, Mura-chan.” The way her voice softened left him trying not to flinch. Just as much as himself, her Onii-chan was one of the few people that helped her connect to the world outside of the hospital. “Would-would you wanna meet him, maybe?” Eijun’s eyes widened at the question.
“But you love when he comes to visit you,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“And I think after all the baseball talk it's only fair you get to spend the same time with him, too.” Ah , she noticed . But Eijun didn’t say that.
It had been a rare few times that Eijun had had any visitors besides his parents and grandfather. Everyone he knew was back in Nagano and it wasn’t exactly an easy trip to make just for a short visit. Of everyone, Wakana had visited at least once a month and when he was too weak for anyone to come during visiting hours, she would have cards ready for him to read. Both she and his parents would also try to talk about baseball, but none of them really got how he felt about it. To them it was a game, to him it was one of the few things keeping him going. So Asuka’s offer was a gift, a very kind gift. He would be able to finally talk to another baseball nerd, another pitcher . Eijun, after all, was still very much a pitcher, even if he couldn’t do it right now .
“Will he even want to talk to me?” Eijun pondered. It was no secret among the few semi-permanent residents of the children’s ward that wherever someone came to visit and you were actually feeling up to the visit, it was time to spend with just them. Sure, sharing stories about friends and family and what all happened during the visit was fun, but it didn’t mean that you wanted to share the time with that person.
“Of course! I’ve told Onii-chan all about you! He might be a little bratty but he loves talking about baseball with everyone .” It almost sounded as if she was lamenting about the fact. Could a nine year old even lament to begin with?
“Will Nurse Kuse-san be okay with it?” Nurse Kuse was the one that most all the kids enjoyed on the floor. She was kind and helpful and always made sure to bring easy foods after a hard day of treatment. And going by the normal schedule it was her turn to work tomorrow. She always worked Sundays.
“Why wouldn’t she be? We’re both in the middle of our 2 week break from treatment, what are they going to do, deny the dying children?” Eijun cracked a small, quiet laugh.
It wasn’t the first time he heard Asuka talk about it like that. He knew that they were both in the middle-high range of sick, her being a bit more with her cancer present in her spinal cord. But no one would use those types of words: dying, poor prognosis, high risk. Everyone would just say they’re sick and eventually get better. Eijun didn’t want to say he was bitter about it sometimes, but there were already a few kids that were here before and no longer around. They didn’t get better.
“You’re right, who would deny dying children?” He grinned with bright eyes as Asuka gave a laugh.
Mei was over the moon that his team won. That he made his team win and proved that he is, in fact, the best pitcher of their age. (He would like to think of all time, but he would wait before proclaiming that particular title). But it was obvious that they were going to win; after all, he had promised to bring Asuka the winning trophy to show her just how amazing her onii-chan truly was.
He didn’t like thinking about where he had to go to show her. Or why she was there. Or how it would be a while before she could leave. But that wasn’t something to think about now. Now was the time to brag to her just how amazing of a pitcher he truly was.
“Onii-chan!” Asuka squealed as he walked through the door. Their parents were with the doctors again so it gave him some alone time with her before they arrived.
“Suka-chan!” He beamed, though she couldn’t see it under his mask.
She wasn’t in her bed as per usual, instead this time seated in her wheelchair with a fuzzy pink hat on and a warm blanket in her lap. He had been pleased she was allowed it after she talked about how cold she would get from treatment and how itchy the hospital blankets could be.
“Onii-chan, this is Mura-chan, the one I’ve been telling you about!” A frail hand gestured to Asuka’s left.
Just as she said, there was an equally skinny boy in a wheelchair next to her’s with a mask and hat on. Asuka had made sure to tell him all about her best friend that she had made there at the hospital. Apparently he had arrived a month or so before her and helped her adjust to living there. He was happy that his sister had someone to spend time with and wasn’t all alone. Her friends from school were only allowed to visit so often out of safety and most of the time out of Asuka not wanting them to see her at her worst.
Even in the boy’s mostly covered appearance, though, Mei could tell that he was sick. His skin was an ashy tan and his hand in his lap were rather skeletal like and his nails rather brittle and broken down to their beds. The red knitted hat he wore was rather fitting in a way that it made the golds of his honey eyes shine brighter. Despite the outward appearance, the boy looked lively and Mei was thankful. He was thankful that his sister’s best friend was still alive and still there with her. That they both were.
“Sawamura Eijun,” the boy spoke in a horse voice with a small nod and lean forward.
The sick boy just tried to bow , Mei realized, shocked and a bit uncomfortable. How do you respond to something like that? But from Asuka’s stories, it made sense.
“Narumiya Mei,” he responded with a small bow of his own.
“I guess Asuka-chan won,” the boy tutted and, even with a mask, it looked like he turned his head away with a pout.
What?
“Ha! You owe me your next pudding!” Asuka exclaimed with more excitement and energy than he’s genuinely seen in months from her.
“What happened?” Mei asked with genuine confusion.
“You won, nii-chan!” A skinny finger pointed at the trophy in his hand.
“Well, of course I won, why wouldn’t I? I am the best after all!” He beamed with a smirk.
“I told you Mura-chan!” Asuka laughed.
“It’s not like you can see the future! What if something happened? What-what if his shoelace came undone and he tripped when he was trying to get the ball? Nothing is set in stone,” Sawamura said with crossed arms.
He’s actually pouting . Mei will forever deny the way the act made his heart feel tight.
“Ha? You bet that I would lose? ” Mei realized out loud. “What type of stupid bet is that?!”
“Well you never know! And there was pudding on the line!” Sawamura shot back easily.
Was this really the same kid that just bowed?
“Well that’s your fault for not realizing my nii-chan is the best! And you say you know baseball,” Asuka butted in as she chided Sawamura.
Mei remembered Asuka talking about Sawamura liking baseball and even played as a pitcher before he got sick. Apparently that was how the two bonded when they first met when he had been reading through a baseball grip book in the lounge.
“You were a pitch, right?” Mei asked He enjoyed talking to anyone about baseball and figured it would be good to bond with Sawmaura if he was so important to his sister.
But, somehow, it seemed like he had made a mistake. The glower he was receiving from those gold eyes left him stunned. Normally that was a look he would receive when in the batting box and facing an opponent pitcher. One that really wants to see him strike out.
“Nii-chan,” Asuka said quietly after a pregnant pause.
“Sorry, Asuka-chan, I think I want to go rest now,” Sawamura said quietly.
Surprisingly, the boy had enough strength to roll himself out the door and turn the corner.
“What was that about?” Mei wondered.
“Really, nii-chan, can’t you think before you speak sometimes?” The frown in her voice made him wear one.
Oh, he realized.
Him and his poor choice in words.
It was a week before Mei was able to go to the hospital again. After what happened, the visit with Asuka on Sunday was rather lackluster. Sure Mei could be bratty and already had an ego that most other 12 year olds had no right in having, and of course he could be mean to the people he didn’t like (especially other baseball players that had no right in talking big that they couldn’t back up) but he didn’t, intentionally, want to be mean to Sawamura.
During the whole of the week, especially as they had the week off from practice after winning the tournament, he was left with too much time to think about a particular gold-eyed boy. There two had barely interacted, there was absolutely nothing special about him besides the way he made Asuka happy.
Thankfully, though, Asuka seemed to understand and helped him get permission to visit Sawamura’s room before the boy was going to start up again on treatment and visitors would have to be kept to a limit so there was lower risk of him getting sick while his body struggled with the chemo.
(Mei hated thinking about both Asuka’s and Sawamura’s chemo schedule, especially after seeing how his sister was right after a treatment).
Mei paused, trying to ignore the anxious pit forming in his stomach, before he knocked on the door. A muffled “come in” sounded from the other side after a moment and he slowly pushed the door open.
To his surprise, Sawamura was currently seated in his bed in a propped up position and books splayed across the mobile desk in front of him. Mei tried to keep his eyes from lingering on the few wires connected to the other boy and the IV that was slowly dripping. He also stopped himself from looking at Sawamura’s bare head. He knew, just like his sister, that Sawamura wouldn’t have any hair, but it was always a surprise when Mei actually saw it. It was different from the buzz cuts that some of his teammates preferred to wear in the hot Tokyo summers. There was no fuzz to his head, or tint of hair color, it was just smooth and with no sign of hair growth in sight.
“Ah, Narumiya-san! What brings you to my room?” Sawamura paused in his question before brightening a little. “Oh you must be here to see Asuka-chan! I know it can be pretty confusing with us having the same room placement but just one hallway off! She’ll be happy to see you again.” Even under the mask Mei knew the other was smiling.
And why was Sawamura so happy to see him? He had been so rude the last time and the other so sad about what he had said. Then again Asuka had said that Sawamura was like the sun around the ward, always smiling and bringing up the mood.
“Actually,” Mei started, keeping himself from fidgeting, “I came to see you Sawamura-kun.” Mei realized he was going to need more than that at the other’s puzzled expression. “I, ah, I really put my foot in my mouth the last time I saw you,” Mei elaborated. Not apologizing, Mei never apologized. He had just misspoke, nothing more.
“Oh,” Sawamura’s voice softened. “It’s okay, Narumiya-san, I get it,” he spoke with a small shrug.
Mei didn’t want to focus on how boney those shoulders looked or how much of Sawamura’s collar bone poked out from underneath the collar of his baggy shirt.
“Asuka told me that you are a pitcher. That you’re a southpaw like me.” He hoped that Sawamura was smiling. “I was actually excited to see you there. Suka-chan says you’ve been watching games non-stop and reading different pitching grips.”
Thankfully, Sawamura seemed to perk at that. With a small wave from Sawamura, Mei walked closer to the bed (still keeping a safe distance even with his mask on) and realized the books on top of the desk were baseball books. More than he thought possible to have.
A notebook was splayed open next to it was bullets of notes around scribbled drawing. And, from the looks of it, the notebook was almost full with only a few pages left at the end.
“Kaa-chan brings a new one each week and I’m trying to work my way through them all,” Sawamura explained before Mei had time to ask about it. “Before,” Sawamura paused, “Before, here , all I ever did was play. I hadn’t even watched a real full game before!” Mei raised his eyebrows.
“You never watched a baseball game before? Then why are you playing?” Mei minded his words.
“ Obviously the playing part was way more fun! But, for now, I’ve learned that watching and reading isn’t so bad by comparison.” Sawamura leaned over to the draw on the other side of the bed.
Surprisingly, or honestly what Mei should have expected from all of Asuka’ stories, Sawamura sat back up with a baseball in his hand. It was rather pristine and in great condition. Obvious that it had never been used outside before, but still had a few grip marks that indicated its use.
“I practice the different grips with this ball,” Sawamura started again. “My favorite is the change up grip,” he said and quickly demonstrated it.
Mei didn’t know how Sawamura was so easy to get into this conversation. He had been a jerk last time and now it was as if all was forgiven. Asuka said Sawamura wasn’t one for grudges, but Mei never really trusted people to be that honest and straightforward. Afterall, he knew his own personality and some of his teammates, who was to say more people weren’t like that.
But here Sawamura was, not being like that, like him, and Mei was surprised. Sure he didn’t know anything about Sawmaura as a player, but if he was one of his teammates he would at least enjoy the energy he provided.
“And if you look at this,” Sawamura gestured to the notebook as he flipped through some of the pages.
(Very warn pages that showed just how much Sawamura spent on his notebook. It was another surprise as Asuka said that in spite of how kind Sawamura was, he could be rather dense at times).
“I’ve been watching a lot of recorded old high school Koshien videos Kaa-chan was able to get and found which pitches tend to do the best for teams!”
Sure enough, as Sawamura fluted through the different pages of pitch types there was columns of information next to the drawing of the grip with information about the use of the grip, when it worked the most, what year it was more successful, what type of batters it worked against, etc. It was some of the most detailed information he had seen about baseball before. And his senior league team even did scouting.
“How did you even think of this?” Mei raised his eyebrows as he continued to look.
“Ah, um...it was actually Wakana-chan’s idea,” he responded rather sheepishly with a scratch at the back of his head.
“Wakana-chan?” Mei asked.
“My friend from Nagano,” Sawamura elaborated.
“Nagano!” Sawamura was from Nagano? That was a drive in itself.
“Yeah...it can get a bit lonely,” Sawamura agreed without Mei even saying any more. “But after she suggested this summer wasn’t as boring! I’m not the smartest person, but this was just writing stuff down about each game, so it wasn’t too hard.” Nothing about what Sawamura had made was easy.
“I think it’s really cool, Sawamura-kun,” Mei countered.
Mei swore that the tips of Sawamura’s ears turned pink.
“I won’t have as much time soon,” Sawamura continued with a frown. “I’m going to be starting up online school that works with,” he waved his hands about, “everything and I’m not the best student so Kaa-chan has threatened to take the books if it distracts from school too much.” Mei could tell he wore another sheepish grin. “But I’m hoping that once I’m ready for high school I might be able to play again!” The exclamation tugged at Mei.
Sure he didn’t know the type of cancer Sawamura had and sure his parents didn’t give him many details about Suka-chan’s outlook and potential future, but even he knew that it would be hard to get where Sawamura wanted to be by high school. Most schools that were any good were competitive and took skills to get into. And with Sawamura being out for at least some portion of his soon to be starting middle school years, Mei wasn’t really sure what to say about it.
“Oh yeah? Well good luck because by the time you get there I’ll already be your senpai and be the best southpaw in the league!” The gasp left Mei laughing.
“This Swamura Eijun will not give up until he is the best pitcher in Japan!”
Something about the certainty left Mei grinning.
“You talk big game, Sa~wa~mura ~kun~,” and Mei wanted to help him achieve every minute of it.