Chapter Text
“Are you going to let me in?”
Kuramochi looked the same. Perhaps a little tired. A little sad. He was staring at Miyuki Kazuya with a raised eyebrow, waiting at the open door of the small apartment the catcher had called home for the past year.
“Yeah, sorry. Wasn’t expecting you.” Kazuya replied, stepping back and allowing his old teammate (and arguably best friend) to move into the apartment.
“Want anything to drink?” he asked tiredly, making his way towards the small kitchen while Kuramochi took off his shoes at the genkan. There were no guest slippers. Kazuya knew he probably had a pair tucked away somewhere, but he couldn’t be bothered to look for them. Kuramochi wouldn’t mind.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Kuramochi replied, following Kazuya down the narrow hallway.
“Just finished all the beer unfortunately” Kazuya snarked back “you’ll have to make do with coffee.”
Kuramochi scoffed.
“Bit late for coffee, isn’t it?”
It was. Nearly 11 pm. Kazuya pointedly switched on the coffeemaker, ignoring the shortstop’s scowl in his direction.
“You planning on sleeping at all tonight?” his friend pressed. “No offense Miyuki, but you look like shit.”
“You don’t exactly look fresh as a daisy either ‘Mochi-kun” Kazuya returned, sickly sweet. Kuramochi just scoffed again.
There was silence while Kazuya finished brewing two cups of coffee. His small coffeemaker only really brewed one a time.
“How are things with the Tigers?” Kazuya finally broke the silence.
“Good.” Kuramochi replied. “We’re doing pretty well. I’ll probably be starting towards the end of the season.”
“Good.”
More silence.
“Let’s go out on the balcony.” Kazuya proposed. The silence was stifling. It was already pretty warm, the first bloom of summer, but hopefully at the balcony the fresh air would make the pauses between the two of them less cloying.
The catcher didn’t wait for Kuramochi’s response, leading towards the sliding doors that led to his small fifth floor balcony. The night-lights of Tokyo sprawled out before them, and despite the heat a light breeze was blowing. If they’d been in the country, the sky would have been filled with stars.
Kazuya leaned on the half wall of the balcony, looking down at the streets below. Kuramochi did the same, mug cupped between his hands as they both stood in silence.
“Saw your media thing with the Swallows.” Kuramochi said finally. Kazuya stiffened.
“Ah.”
“How bad is it?” the shortstop asked. Kazuya took a slow sip of his coffee as he considered how to answer.
“Not as bad as it could have been” he responded, finally. “I probably won’t be starting the next two games, but since they pushed me into it even after I said I didn’t want to participate my management is going easy on me.”
“They pushed you into it?”
Kazuya brushed his hair back.
“Yeah.” He sighed finally. He bit his lip as he considered how much to share. But if there was anyone he could expect to understand it would be Kuramochi.
“I wasn’t originally slated for the media event. Abe was the catcher who was supposed to take part in the interviews. But he had a family emergency and left before the event started. I was only pulled in because I was already at the stadium.”
“I told them.” The catcher continued, clutching at his coffee with whitened knuckles “I told them it wasn’t a good day for me, that I was in no condition to go through a stupid media circle, that they should put someone else on. But…”
“They told you to do it anyways, huh.” Kuramochi completed. Kazuya nodded, head hanging low.
“So.” Kuramochi continued. “You blew up at a reporter and walked out, huh.”
“’Blew up’ is a bit…” Kazuya stopped when he noticed Kuramochi’s disbelieving look in his direction. He sighed. He was too tired for this.
“She always asks the same damn question”. He said finally, not looking at his friend. “I should have been prepared for it. I usually am prepared for it. It was just… It was a bad day for it.”
“Well, that’s a fucking understatement” Kuramochi concurred, with feeling.
‘Who’s your favorite pitcher to work with?’ was the question. Sato-san, sports reporter for the Tokyo Daily always asked catchers the same question. She’d been all the more insistent on asking it to Kazuya, likely because he avoided responding in any concrete way through all their previous interactions.
On any other day Kazuya would have brushed it off. On any other day.
But Kazuya’s favorite pitcher had died on that day, two years before. Kazuya didn’t have the option of working with his favorite pitcher anymore.
He had kind of blown up at Sato-san. He should probably apologize to her.
Kuramochi was still quiet, sipping his coffee. For all the shit he’d given him about not sleeping, Kazuya could tell Kuramochi himself probably wasn’t sleeping very well either.
“Is that why you came?” Kazuya asked, finally. “I’m a bit far from Nishinomiya.”
“Sort of.” Kuramochi responded. He hesitated a little.
“We had a Seido reunion dinner, on Tuesday. I know you couldn’t come because the Swallows were doing that exhibition game thing, but since I was going to be in Tokyo anyways, I decided I might as well check in on your dumb ass.”
Tuesday. Right, Kazuya had received an invite.
“You’ve got lots of people worried about you, you know?” Kuramochi continued, though he wasn’t looking at Kazuya.
“And since you lost it at that reporter yesterday. Well.” He shrugged.
“Narumiya texted me, can you believe it?” He scoffed. “Told me to ask you if you know you’re allowed to move on, the asshat.”
Kazuya smiled, though it was a bitter thing, slashed across his face.
“You’re not asking?” He prodded. “It has been two years, you know?”
“Narumiya can eat shit” Kuramochi nearly snarled. “I get that he’s worried, but you’re allowed to take whatever time you need.” The shortstop looked down, mouth turned into a frown.
“Fuck knows I’m not over it either.” He paused. “I don’t think anyone is, really”.
It was said softly. There was none of Kuramochi’s boisterous violence in the words. He didn’t wait for Kazuya to respond at all.
“Did you know Jun-san and Takako-senpai are having a baby?” He asked.
“What, really?” Kazuya blurted, surprised by the apparent non-sequitur. “They’re not even married yet, are they?”
“Nope!” Kuramochi responded, cackling, a bit more like himself than he’d been all evening. “Jun-san told me to let you know you’ll get an invite and he expects you to be there, or he’ll kick your ass otherwise. So. They’ll probably get married before the baby is born.”
Kazuya huffed a soft laugh.
“I’ll be there, then.”
Kuramochi seemed to hesitate a second. Looking lost into the dredges of his coffee cup.
“Takako-senpai said that, if it is a boy, they’ll name him Eijun.”
Kazuya froze. He could feel his throat tighten with emotion. He looked up, blinking away the burning in his eyes.
“Well” He started, voice wobbling more than he’d hoped. “Given who his dad is, I expect he’ll be about as loud as the original.”
Kuramochi huffed a warbled little bit of laughter. “You’ve got that right.”
“You see what I mean, right?” He continued, finally. “I don’t think any of us really got over it at all.”
“Narumiya didn’t really know Bakamura.” His voice barely broke on the old nickname. Kazuya was impressed. “So he doesn’t get to tell any of us when we’re supposed to be over him.”
Kazuya didn’t respond for a long time, staring out at Tokyo’s night-lights for so long they seemed to blur. Finally, he started speaking.
“You know, when I found out Mei was planning to play for the Swallows, I almost rejected their offer.” Kuramochi made a questioning sound but didn’t interrupt.
“I figured if they were taking Mei, there was very little chance they’d opt for a southpaw pitcher of comparable versatility the next year.” He waited for Kuramochi to process the implications of his words.
“You were going to reject them because there was little chance you’d get to play with Sawamura in the same team if you chose the Swallows.”
Good old ‘Mochi. He did understand Kazuya the best. Never mind that they both knew Sawamura had already been dead by the time Kazuya had to pick a team at the end of their third year.
“Pretty pathetic, isn’t it?” Kazuya asked, the words nearly stuck in his throat. He didn’t want to look at Kuramochi and face the pity and understanding that were probably going to be engraved on his face.
“Not pathetic” Kuramochi responded, cautiously. “It’s just sad.” He turned his back to the balcony’s half wall, dipping his head back and looking at the night sky instead. “Everything about Sawamura makes me sad these days.”
“’These days’?” Kazuya asked, disbelieving.
“Yeah.” Kuramochi responded. “Back then… When Sawamura died, I was sad, yeah. But mostly I was just angry.”
Kazuya stared at him. He remembered Kuramochi had slept in his room for the three days after. Room five had been deserted. Neither Kuramochi nor Asada had managed to sleep there for a while after Sawamura… After Sawamura had died. But he didn’t remember Kuramochi being angrier than usual. He didn’t remember a lot of things between that day and the funeral, really, the days passing in a haze.
“I was angry at everything” Kuramochi continued. “Angry at everyone. Angry at myself for making him go to the convenience store that day. Angry at the weather. Angry at the whole damn team. Angry at the school for pulling out of the Koshien. Angry at fucking Narumiya and the rest of Inashiro for going to Koshien in our place after we withdrew.” He paused. “Angry at Sawamura for dying.”
That statement sat with them for several minutes.
“How did you get over the anger?” Kazuya asked, finally. Kuramochi shrugged.
“It got really bad. We all went home for the winter, before graduation, and I blew up at my sis. I threw a fucking plate at her.” He admitted, misery bleeding through his words. “Then I started sobbing like a little baby. She wasn’t even mad at me. She and my mom were just upset, and worried, I guess.”
“My brother-in-law’s a therapist, did you know?” Kuramochi continued. “He couldn’t handle it himself, apparently there’s like, ethics concerns about treating people you know outside a professional setting. But. He gave my mom a couple of contacts. Recommended people. That sort of thing.” Kuramochi rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb, ignoring Kazuya’s gaze.
“It helped?” the catcher asked, turning away from his friend.
“Yeah.” The shortstop agreed. “Talking about things helped. It’s… I don’t know how to explain it. But it got me to where I managed to stop getting angry about it. Crying helped too, I guess.”
Kazuya hummed in acknowledgement.
“If you ever need someone to talk to…” Kuramochi offered tentatively.
“Yeah...” Kazuya breathed out. “Yeah, I’ll ask you. Thanks ‘Mochi.” Kuramochi just grunted in response. He’d stopped actively complaining about the nickname after Sawamura’s death.
“What are you planning on doing, since you won’t be playing for a while?” He asked, clearly trying to change the subject. Kazuya smiled.
“I’m heading to Nagano on the afternoon train tomorrow.” Silence.
“I haven’t gone yet this year.” Kazuya continued, unbothered. “And I should probably apologize to Sawamura’s family. There’s no telling if they’ll get tabloid reporters looking into their dead child for a stupid headline.”
“Jesus.” Kuramochi groaned, fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “His mom say anything to you?”
“Nothing about what happened ” Kazuya admitted. “She sent me a congratulations email after we won the last game I played in.”
Kuramochi nodded.
“Well…” He sighed, finally, standing up fully. “I should be heading out. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t drinking yourself to death.”
“Not during the season, no.” Kazuya joked. It fell flat.
Kuramochi looked at him.
“Miyuki. I mean it. You should get to take whatever time you need.” He stated firmly. “Get your fucking management to understand that too, yeah? I’ve got your back if you need it. We’ll get my brother-in-law to call in and explain and shit. Whatever you need, yeah?”
Kazuya was suddenly, viciously thankful for having Kuramochi in his life.
“Yeah” he croaked out. “Yeah.”
He breathed out shakily. Then turned to his friend.
“Kuramochi. Thanks. Really.”
Kuramochi nodded, a bit embarrassed.
“I’ll see myself out, yeah? Try and get some sleep, man, I wasn’t joking when I said you look like shit.”
Kazuya laughed a bit at that. Kuramochi’s blustering was a clear attempt to lighten the air after bringing up Sawamura’s ghost a mere two days after his death anniversary.
Kazuya appreciated the attempt for what it was. He waved him off and waited until he heard the slam of his front door as Kuramochi indeed saw himself out. Then he drank the last of his coffee and walked back into the apartment.