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“Miyuki-san? Miyuki-san!” Animal hollered down the stadium’s aisle. Students and alumni who hadn’t already been staring at the famous author, comedian, and ex-baseballer in their midst were now gawking at the huge American gesturing frantically. He ignored the attention like the seasoned pro he was. The bespectacled man he was waving at wasn’t so fortunate.
Two rows down, he half-turned toward the commotion and raised a single, embarrassed hand in greeting. “Animal-san.”
Seems he’s as mild-mannered as his son , Animal thought while bounding down the steps to meet the father of his most recent PT project properly. Well, his son when around strangers. Wonder if he’s as much of a killer in his line of work as Kazuya is on the field .
Smushing himself into the seat next to the other man, Animal beamed at his new neighbor. “I knew it must be you. You look just like your boy, glasses and everything!"
“Ah. I'd say he takes more after his mother.” The steelworker didn’t smile back.
“You know, I always say the same thing about Yuu,” Animal continued, undeterred. “He’s got my wife’s good looks, for sure. Her quiet nature and sarcasm, too. But his build and head for baseball are all from me!” The other man didn’t give anything other than a polite nod of acknowledgment, so Animal carried on, “I'm glad you were able to make it when I called about the practice game. I thought this would be a good way to celebrate your son's recovery. You don’t play baseball, do you Miyuki-san?”
The question was mostly for the sake of being polite. Kazuya never talked about his home life much, but his father’s absence during his physical therapy had painted a clear enough picture.
“It’s not like you to be so involved,” Animal muttered to Rei.
They watched Kazuya struggle through his exercises from a distance, letting Chris help guide him through the motions. Normally, Animal preferred to be more hands-on, but Miyuki was a quick learner and seemed more relaxed around his son than himself.
It was important that patients felt at ease during recovery. Following a strict therapy regimen without trust set people back, especially people like Kazuya who didn’t like to communicate their discomfort if something was painful during their exercises. A little ache was necessary to get better. Intense pain, on the other hand, was bad.
The assistant coach adjusted her classes at Animal’s side. “He doesn’t have a guardian here to make sure he’s listening to the doctors. I’m taking care of it.”
“I thought he lived in Tokyo? I remember Yuu taking an interest in him back when they were in senior league together. Did his family move?”
“No,” Rei replied.
When she didn’t elaborate, Animal could guess what it meant. His family had decided their son could take care of himself. And their son probably agreed. What idiots teenagers were.
He certainly would never forget what happened when his own son thought he could handle everything alone.
"I'll look after him while he's in my care," Animal assured Rei. He smiled as Chris caught Miyuki's arm with a laugh when the captain stretched too far and slid off the bench. "It seems like the baseball idiot needs it."
"I don't know anything about baseball," Miyuki Toku answered. His face remained stoic, but the agitated taps of his fingers against his thighs belied an underlying tension. "Kazuya has always told me not to come to the games. I think he worries about it cutting into my work time."
"Ah, yes, he is a very conscientious boy," Animal agreed.
He leaned back in his seat, watching as the boy in question led a team rally in the dugout before the game started. Whatever shouting they were doing was too indistinct to be understood from the stands. That crazy boy pitcher that Yuu took a shine to must not have ramped up to his full volume yet.
Outlining the edges of his mustache with thick fingers, Animal continued, "You know, when Kazuya was in PT he kept asking after Yuu's shoulder as if he wasn't the one freshly injured. He seemed like a real mother-hen type." The constant discussion about how to help Seido's pitchers improve between the boys, even while injured, didn't help Animal's perception that Kazuya preferred taking care of others to being taken care of, much like Yuu. "I figured for a boy his age, it was probably being the team captain that made him that way. But I guess not."
Toku shook his head, his gaze on the field distant and uncomprehending. "No, that's just Kazuya."
Awkward silence again.
At this rate, Animal would need to rely on his boorish American persona to turn this into anything other than several hours of quiet discomfort with a stranger. He knew that traditional, stoic types like Toku didn't care for straightforward discussions. However, in Animal’s opinion, some things needed to be said outright whether it was proper or not, especially when the entire reason he'd invited the other father to this game was to help him understand new ways to support the baseball part of Kazuya's life.
He drew a courageous breath. "In case I didn't make it clear, I really am glad you were able to come today, Miyuki-san. I know it must be difficult to find time away from your business, but I think it's important for Kazuya. No matter what he says, having his dad here is sure to lift his spirits."
The other dad lifted an eyebrow behind his glasses in a familiar gesture Animal had only seen on a younger, more irreverent face.
"It's lonely, sometimes, playing out there. Especially for the quieter boys," Animal elaborated. His mustache dropped in a rare, serious frown. "I think they don't always know how to ask for the support they need."
The elder Miyuki glanced away. A glare from the spring sun against his glasses kept his eyes' expression hidden.
"...I'm proud of him."
Animal laughed, hoping to lighten the mood. "What father wouldn't be? The kid’s a rising star!"
Once again, his companion didn't laugh in return.
"You don't think he knows that?" Animal pressed.
Toku licked his lips, tapped his fingers on his knees several more times, then murmured like a sinner confessing his life's wrongs, "When Kazuya was a kid, baseball was just a way to keep him busy. My wife was gone, and I had no idea how to raise a child on my own. It seemed to make him happy to be out of the house playing. But, even after buying him gloves and sending him off to Seido, I don’t think I ever realized how much it meant to him all these years…"
“I’m going to be Seido’s starting catcher for spring, dad.”
It was nice to see Kazuya smile. Maybe that was because Toku felt like he himself had forgotten how to do it these days. If his son’s smiles only happened because of baseball, well, Toku wasn’t the best dad in a lot of ways, but he could make sure Kazuya had that much.
"So that means you're their go-to guy now? Don't they have anyone other than a first-year?" He asked, taking a swig of beer as they sat around the dinner table.
Kazuya's smile dimmed. "Oh, yeah, well…the actual starting catcher got injured this year. So I'm making the most of the opportunity."
"Mm. Well, that's good," Toku said and took another bite of his rice.
He didn't know what to say about the way his son's aura had darkened. It was easier to stay quiet and wait for the kid to sort out whatever was going on in his head. Kazuya would fill the silence if he needed to express anything else.
"...his name's Chris," Kazuya volunteered. He pushed at his dinner without taking a bite. "I played against him in middle school, too. I think I told you about him once. The son of the ex-pro?"
The vague shape of a tiny, beaming boy raving about being beaten by the best catcher he'd ever seen in his short life stirred in Toku's memory. Something about a tall, half-Japanese kid with a strange name.
If that boy was at Seido, too, his son's unspecified "reasons" for choosing that school over Inashiro had suddenly become more clear.
"I remember," Toku mumbled. Then, because he felt he needed to say something more. "I hope he's been good to you."
"Yeah. It's been good to be at Seido with him…"
Kazuya's smile was back, but softer this time. The same smile his mother used to wear whenever she thought about her beloved boys.
Miyuki’s father watched the teenagers take up their positions as the game began. His son wasn’t on the field yet. If he remembered the rules correctly, that meant Seido was batting first.
Given Animal's lifelong love of baseball, their conversation had unsurprisingly stalled as the game started. The first two players walked up to the plate, swung their bats a bunch of times while knocking the ball all over the place, and then walked back off the playing field to their team. Considering the scoreboard still said 0-0, that seemed like a bad start.
Toku understood you were supposed to get on bases and score runs, but he had a hard time following what balls meant you could run and which ones didn’t. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into watching nine full innings of this.
By the time the third boy walked out, Miyuki’s father was feeling an unfamiliar urge to make small talk to keep him focused. It was either that or spend the entire game planning how he was going to catch up on the four orders due this week when he got home. A tempting thought, but too rude towards the man who had taken care of his son when he got hurt this year.
In an attempt at congeniality, Toku piped up, “You should know that Kazuya talked about your son a lot when he was at home. I never understood anything about the baseball stuff, but he had nothing but praise for Chris-kun.”
“Kazuya only said good things about someone? That doesn’t sound like him,” Animal replied with a guffaw. Somehow he made it sound more like a compliment than an insult.
Toku shrugged sheepishly. “Ah…He may have also said he wanted to take Chris-kun’s position.” He bowed in his seat. “Sorry for his rudeness.”
“Don’t apologize!”
Animal’s roaring laugh was swallowed by cheers. The third boy on the field, a little one with pink hair, had sent the ball flying further than his frame should have allowed. The stands erupted for a solid minute.
Once everyone around them settled back down, the ex-baseballer continued, “You probably don’t know this, but wanting to take someone’s starting spot on the roster is a sign of respect. A good rival is hard to come by.” He cut himself off mid explanation as his eyes darted back to the game. “Ah, but you should pay attention now. Kazuya’s about to take the field.”
Animal pointed down towards the plate where the captain was sauntering up with bat in hand. His mouth moved as if he was singing along with a silent walk-up song. It was a shame this wasn’t a tournament game. It would have been nice for Toku to get the full experience of everyone cheering his son on instead of the smattering of catcalls and ‘knock it out of the park, Miyuki!’ that surrounded them.
“He’s a good hitter?” Miyuki’s father wondered aloud, too softly for the other spectators to overhear.
Animal chuckled. “The best on the team. And he’s a real daredevil, too…a lot like Yuu.”
“I don’t know what to do with him,” Yuu muttered into his water bottle.
Animal had heard enough about Seido and its team, tempted to reply with something short and scathing about leaving them all behind, but this was the most sincere his son had sounded in months. If talking about the catcher who took his boy’s starting spot would help somehow, he could swallow his pride for a few minutes.
“You’re in rehab,” Animal reminded gently. “You don’t have to do anything with him unless you want to. Do you want to?”
Yuu frowned at the blank wall. “I don’t know. It’s just…he keeps treating me like I’m still some great catcher. Like he looks up to me, even though he’s already got everything. He’s never been the type to look back before. I feel like I should be annoyed at someone pitying me but…”
“You like being acknowledged as a player. Not for what you did in the past, but as if you’re still a member of the team.” Animal placed his hand on his son’s back with a sad smile.
“I think so,” Yuu murmured. “And I guess…part of me is worried about him, too. I know how heavy the burden of that starter position is.” Unconsciously, he rolled his bad shoulder. It must have been screaming from its daily therapeutic routine. “He’s a talented kid. Has a great head for baseball. But he struggles to connect with the team, and I’m worried he’ll take on everything alone because he doesn’t trust anyone enough to let them help him.”
A father’s palm drew warm circles on Yuu’s back. “He seems to trust you. Not that you have to help, of course, but…”
“I want to try.”
And that was the determination Animal had been missing from his boy these past months. He started to suspect that the ‘helping’ relationship with this Miyuki character might not be entirely one-sided.
Maybe what Yuu needed most was a friend who was just as unique and talented as he was.
“I never knew how amazing he was,” Toku lamented as his son rounded the bases, fist in the air.
Kazuya’s eyes wandered up into the stands where the two fathers were on their feet after his ball smashed straight to the fence. Animal had exploded with all the enthusiasm he was known for when his own son hit a homer, and Toku stood beside him, clapping politely. Ever so faintly, the captain’s jaw dropped. He ran the rest of the bases with his chin ducked and a blush on his cheeks rivaling that of the pink-haired hitter from earlier.
Animal clapped his companion on the shoulder, and Toku jolted forward from the force of it. “Don’t look so dejected. There’s still plenty of time to learn all about baseball, and how good Kazuya is, you know. I’d be more than happy to teach you!”
Coughing to flood air back into his lungs, the elder Miyuki retook his seat. “That’s very kind of you, Animal-san.”
“Not at all! I love teaching baseball. Making people fall in love with it is a hobby of mine.”
Toku considered him with a skeptical look again. “Does that mean you do this for all the boys who come to you in PT?”
“No no, of course not. There aren’t enough hours in the day for that,” Animal chided. “But Kazuya’s a special one. Did you know he came to my practice on his birthday just so he could see Yuu instead of celebrating with his team?” The large American shook his head fondly. “The boys really care about each other. I think it’s good for Yuu to have Kazuya around, and that’s easier if I can invite his dad out to baseball games when he’s free from work.”
Animal had invited Miyuki over for dinner several times after PT, each of which had been officially declined due to school. Of course, the first time Yuu asked him, he’d shown up at their doorstep with a neat sweater over a collared shirt and a bag full of groceries. Takashima-sensei must have helped him pick them up.
It was sweet, watching the two of them dance around each other. He didn’t know whether there were crushes involved or just the kind of soul-deep understanding only two very-talented players could have, but it reminded Animal of how he and his wife used to be, down to the silly arguments.
Whatever they were to each other, having Miyuki around made Yuu smile. Anyone who could do that after injury left his boy lost in a miserable haze was alright in Animal’s book. He made a point to send Miyuki home with extra food, a free copy of his book, and a handful of baseball DVDs in exchange for a promise to visit again to return them.
“Thanks for welcoming him,” Yuu murmured. He was still looking at the door that Miyuki had left through seconds ago with a huge, tired grin and a friendly wave.
Animal ruffled his boy’s hair. “I always welcome your friends. You just don’t invite them often.”
Knocking his father’s hand away, Yuu grumbled, “I wasn’t asking for a critique on my socializing.” His glare dropped to the floor, pensive. “I just wanted you to know it’s important for him to have a place he can be accepted as himself. He doesn’t have a lot of friends. Or family.”
“And he’d do anything for the ones he has, right?”
The boy started at Animal’s earnest tone. “...Dad?”
“It wasn’t hard to figure out. His family is never at games or PT, he cooked and cleaned tonight as if it was completely natural even though he’s a teenage boy, and he made the same mistake you did in sacrificing his body for the sake of his team. Also, he’s a giant baseball nerd. Not easy to make friends when the only thing on your mind is how to better call a game.” When Yuu’s eyes widened to comical proportions, Animal gave him a swat on the arm. “Don’t give me that look! You didn’t get all your analytical skills from your mom. I never would have made it as a pro if I couldn’t read guys pretty well.”
The boy still stared, disbelieving. “Well…however you figured it out, thank you for caring. I think it made him happy.”
“Of course! If my boy cares about another person that much, then how could I do anything less? He’ll always have a family here.”
“Thank you for making my son happy,” Toku said, echoing Animal’s memory.
The bigger man blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Kazuya talks a lot when he’s happy. He’s always ranted about baseball, but I’ve never heard him talk as much as he did when describing what you and your son did for him these past months. I don’t know how you’ve made him so happy, but thank you.”
Toku bowed from his seat for the second time that day, and Animal was quick to wave him off.
“No need to thank me. He makes my son happy, too. I hope he’ll continue to do so for many years to come. Although…” The larger man winked behind his shades and grinned conspiratorily. “You should also know that I still expect my boy to beat yours once they both make it to the majors.”
This time his smile was infectious. Toku’s lips curled upwards like a rusty door creaking on its hinges for the first time in a decade.
“I may not know much about baseball, but I know Kazuya won’t lose so easily." The fire in the man's eyes behind thick frames mirrored his son's moments before he hit his home run. "Consider it a promise. I’ll see you again when they play together as professionals. ”
Animal's old competitive nature surged joyously at the challenge. “I'll be expecting you. We’ll have to brush up on your baseball knowledge before then.”
“...You know, I think you’re right.”
And just like that, a battle of a father’s pride in their cherished, inseparable, baseball-loving sons became the start of a new, strange friendship. Something that would hopefully benefit both their children. And maybe torment them a bit for good measure.
Animal couldn’t think of a better way to spend his retirement.