An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Okumura Koushuu is not very observant, but eventually he has to realize that his teammates are also his friends
Written for @daiyarpwk2020 day 2: Bonds
Koushuu is, perhaps, less observant than the people around him. It’s not exactly news to him, but it feels like a pretty poor excuse for explaining why he never realized he and Asada are friends.
In fact, other than Taku, Koushuu thinks Asada might be his best friend. They don’t have the same wordless ease born of knowing each other far too long, but if Koushuu actually craves someone’s company, he’s most likely to seek out Asada, and if Asada finds him instead, Koushuu never feels the urge to tell him to leave.
He realizes it all in a rush when they’re walking back from the cafeteria later than the rest of their batchmates. A year of this life should’ve gotten them used to the ungodly amount of food they have to eat to keep up their bodies, but they’ve settled into a routine of eating slowly and steadily, and Koushuu, at least, will never be the kind to scarf down his food like some other teammates he could name. They linger late, taking their time, and a kind of camaraderie is born from being in this slowpoke squad.
“Do you think we’re good senpai?” Asada asks, not looking at Koushuu. “I mean, we’re not setting a very good example, right? Taking so long to finish our food.”
Koushuu privately thinks it might actually be better to let the first years know some of their senpai still struggle. It shows them that no one on this team is superhuman, that through hard work, all of them can rise.
“I think if they can’t keep up, they’re not worth worrying about,” Koushuu says sharply. It’s the kind of acerbic comment he usually reserves for Taku’s ears only, the kind that just sounds mean – and it is, but he didn’t only mean it that way – that would get him in trouble.
To his surprise, though, Asada just huffs a laugh into his fist and keeps walking, and that’s when Koushuu realizes. Asada gets how Koushuu is, and accepts him for it, rolling with the punches much like Taku does, just in his own way.
“One of them asked me to help with pitching from the stretch,” Asada continues. “I don’t know if I’ll be a very good teacher, but I’ll try. I asked Sawamura-senpai to help me.”
“Don’t let him overpower you,” Koushuu says. He doesn’t have the same antagonistic relationship with Sawamura that he used to, but they still have strong, opposing personalities, and they still butt heads, and Asada seems like the type to let Sawamura talk right over him.
“He said he just wants to watch,” Asada says. “Not that I think he won’t chime in, but he and Nori-senpai helped me a lot last year. I want to do the same for the first years.”
Sawamura, at first glance, doesn’t seem like a good matchup for Asada at all, but Asada needs that kind of reassurance in a way Koushuu never has, and Nori was a good way to temper that. Asada isn’t a pitcher like either of them, and he might never be the ace, but he’s a wicked closer, and that’s the influence of both of those pitchers.
“Let me know if you want me to catch for you,” Koushuu says. “I’ll make time.”
Asada doesn’t even look surprised at the offer, which means he probably realized they’re friends long before Koushuu ever did.
***
Kuki is loud, and boisterous, and gets in people’s faces, and in general, he seems like the kind of person Koushuu hates the most.
But he’s also a brilliant pitcher, and his second year is showing the potential he has for rising to take the ace number. It won’t be possible this year, not with Sawamura and Furuya fighting with each other for glory, but Koushuu will eat his own batting gloves if that number 1 isn’t emblazoned on Kuki’s back next year.
Then there’s the fact that Kuki’s interesting as fuck to catch for, and unlike Sawamura, who has a style built between him and Miyuki, Kuki is still growing into what he can do, and Koushuu is helping to shape that.
Koushuu doesn’t appreciate having to agree with Miyuki Kazuya on anything, but making a pitcher grow and bloom is thrilling in a way baseball hasn’t been for a very long time. Dare he say it, he’s even having fun.
“What the fuck was that?” Koushuu growls as he snaps the ball back to Kuki. He’s lucky he snapped his hand up fast enough to keep it from flying over his head.
“An experiment!” Kuki tells him cheerfully. “I saw some video from America, and this pitcher could do this cool trick shot.”
“It’s not so cool if you take a batter’s head off,” Koushuu says, because that’s exactly where the ball would have landed if a batter was actually standing there. He’s glad it’s not one of the nights where Asada stands in for them. It would’ve sent him running, scared shitless. Masashi…well, it might actually do him some good to get the fear of God put in him, but Koushuu doesn’t really want to see him decapitated.
“Lemme try a few more?” Kuki asks. “I think I can get it. That felt weird, but I think I can fix it.”
“It might fuck up your form,” Koushuu warns.
“Come on, Kou-chan, please?” Not even Taku calls him that, but Koushuu has somewhat given up on getting Kuki to quit it.
Koushuu is not indulgent, never has been. This is probably a waste of his time, and there’s better uses of it. For example, fixing this new quirk in Kuki’s slider that might be nothing and might be a game changer, Koushuu hasn’t decided yet.
But…
Well…
“Keep them in the zone,” Koushuu relents, and with that, he also has to add Kuki to the growing list of Friends Koushuu Has. He wouldn’t agree to sit around and let Kuki possibly fuck up one or both of them if they weren’t. He definitely wouldn’t allow the nickname if they weren’t.
“I’ll do my best!” Kuki says, and immediately throws a ball. But then he gets it in the strike zone.
And then Koushuu thinks he sees what Kuki’s going for.
“Relax your wrist instead of your fingers,” he suggests, resetting the way he squats.
When the ball comes to him, it’s far from perfect, but it might be something.
“Did you see that?” Kuki demands, laughing to the ceiling. “I did it!”
“Do it again,” Koushuu says, throwing the ball back. “Prove it’s not a fluke.”
Stumbling and flailing, more failures than successes, Kuki does.
***
Yui is a rival, but he’s also a good captain. He’s doing a far better job than Koushuu ever would’ve. Unlike Miyuki, Koushuu had the good sense to turn the coach down when he offered the position. Koushuu is good at intimidation, and he’s fine at teaching a few selective underclassmen, but a captain needs to be for everyone, and that was the fatal flaw of Miyuki.
He recognizes, of course, that Miyuki did the best job he was capable of doing, and no one can fault him for the work he put it to make his captaincy function, but anyone who wanted to look could see that it only worked because Kuramochi was, essentially, a second captain rather than just a vice. After a year of Kanemaru as captain, supported by Toujou and Sawamura but not dependent on them the way Miyuki was on his vices, no one needs a repeat of the past, and Koushuu has never been shy about telling the coach what he thinks.
Besides, he likes being vice-captain. He gets all the perks without any of the work. Koushuu is mostly left alone to work with the pitchers and catchers, but now his voice carries more weight. Kuki is happily handling the moral support side of the equation, and Yui gets stuck playing keystone and, somehow, not crumbling.
It doesn’t mean there aren’t cracks, though.
“My head’s gonna explode if I look at that any longer,” Yui complains, rubbing his palms over his eyes.
Koushuu lowers the playbook they’ve been looking at down to the desk. It’s not that late. Koushuu’s roommates aren’t even back from the baths yet.
But Yui looks exhausted, slumped in his desk chair, and Koushuu can’t bring himself to point out that they’ve been at this for less than an hour.
“I can finish up,” Koushuu says. “Get some sleep. I’ll tell you the important stuff in the morning.”
“You’re not even the one starting,” Yui protests without heat. “I’m the one that needs it.”
“You need to rest,” Koushuu says. “I’d do this anyway. It’s no trouble.”
“For a practice match you’re probably not playing in?” Yui asks.
Koushuu shrugs. The data analysis has always been one of the better parts of being a catcher for him, and just because he’s not playing this practice match doesn’t mean he can’t use it for practice. Besides, he started yesterday, and he’ll probably start again as their season gets rolling. It’s still spring. Even though their last summer is coming, it hasn’t started yet, and Koushuu is trying to enjoy the time they have left. In as much as he enjoys baseball, anyway.
Yui’s head lands on his shoulder. Koushuu jumps, because Yui isn’t usually the touchy type, and Koushuu definitely isn’t, but he lets Yui stay there anyway. It’s been a long day, and being captain is hard, and Yui has been fighting barriers Koushuu never has for far longer than this.
“I quit being captain,” Yui says. “You can do it.”
“You know I’ll just make Kuki do it,” Koushuu says. He knows Yui doesn’t really mean it.
“I feel like I keep fucking up,” Yui says. “No matter how hard I work, I always feel like there’s more to do.”
“You have vice-captains for a reason,” Koushuu says. “Let us help you.”
“So you’ll do all the data analysis, and Kuki will handle everyone’s emotional problems, and that just leaves me doing what?” Yui asks.
“Leading,” Koushuu says, and he gently pushes Yui off. “Go sleep. It’ll be better in the morning.”
Koushuu stays up later than he should and walks into breakfast blinking sleep out of his eyes, but the relief on Yui’s face, coupled with the way the dark circles under his eyes have faded, is worth it.
“Aren’t you the diligent vice-captain?” Taku teases when Koushuu sits down, cursing the lack of coffee. “You’re a good friend.”
Koushuu really should have realized that Yui was also his friend sooner.
***
“That is blatant favoritism!” Kuki complains as Koushuu throws a pillow at him and growls for him to shut up. “Taku-chan started it and you didn’t say shit to him.”
“Can’t help it if I’m his favorite!” Taku grins as he passes by Kuki on the racetrack, piloting his Princess Peach across the line to lap him. “Or maybe Asada is now, I can’t tell.”
Asada shrinks and focuses on keeping his Luigi on the track.
“Nah, if you’re not the favorite it’s definitely Kaoru-chan,” Kuki says. “They have this catcher bond that can’t be bro – dammit, Kaoru-chan!”
“You snooze, you lose!” Yui crows, browbeaten into taking a night off and thoroughly enjoying himself. “And I say Seto’s the favorite.”
“You’re all wrong,” Koushuu snaps from where he’s trying to focus on his homework. He’s not suffering the indignity of makeup exams again. He’s a third year. It’s demeaning. “Masashi’s my favorite.”
Masashi has been patiently waiting for one of the four controllers to open up, leaning against Koushuu’s desk as he works, and he looks up at the call of his name but doesn’t say anything. Koushuu adores him for it. Masashi stayed on later than he normally does because the other four had declared it a third year bonding night and camped up in Koushuu’s room with Mario Kart. He hasn’t said much – usually doesn’t – and that’s just fine with Koushuu, because he really wants to get ahead on his homework before it comes crashing down around his ears.
“You wound me,” Taku complains. “How is Masashi your favorite? No offense, Masashi.”
“None taken,” Masashi says.
“Taku, you’re fired as my best friend,” Koushuu says. “Masashi, you’re hired.”
“I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”
“Too bad.”
Everyone else complains a little more before letting it slide, taking Koushuu’s mood for what it is.
“You dropped a decimal there,” Masashi says, pointing to Koushuu’s homework. He’s right. Koushuu fixes the mistake. “Are you actually mad at them?”
“No,” Koushuu says. He’s annoyed, sure, but they mean well, and it’s not their fault he has a hard time focusing on baseball and homework at the same time. Besides, he can’t actually bring himself to break it up when they’re having so much fun.
He’s really gone soft since his first year.
“Good,” Masashi says. “If you need help, I’m okay at math.”
“Thanks, Masashi,” Koushuu says, and he means for more than just the homework.
He and Masashi don’t talk all that often, but Masashi offers a quiet kind of companionship that Koushuu can’t get from any of the others. At least this time, Koushuu recognized the friendship for what it was early on. It’s a strange kind of friendship, not one he ever knew existed, but he’s grateful for Masashi anyway.
“If you want a turn, go take one,” Koushuu tells him. “Send Taku over if you do, I’m doing history next.”
Masashi goes, clapping a hand on Koushuu’s shoulder on the way. It hurts, a little, but Koushuu doesn’t complain.
***
Koushuu sits in the grass, knowing it’s staining his uniform pants, and he can’t bring himself to care. He has a diploma in his hand, and he never has to wear these again.
“Jeez, try to look less like someone died,” Taku complains, dropping into the grass beside him. “This is a time for celebration.”
“You’re even less eager to leave than I am,” Koushuu says. He made friends here, created memories, played baseball that restored the fun of the sport to him, but Taku loved it here. He’s grateful he made the decision and Taku chose to follow him for that if nothing else.
“True, true,” Taku agrees easily. “But it does give me the chance to do this.”
He holds out a button under Koushuu’s nose, and Koushuu realizes his jacket is hanging open.
“Is this your second button?” Koushuu asks. “Is this a confession?”
Of all the things he expects, he doesn’t include Taku laughing at him.
“Is this…of course it’s not a confession!” he says, grin in place. “This isn’t news to you.”
Koushuu shrugs, because it kind of is.
“Koushuu, we got playground-married when we were seven,” Taku says, incredulous. “I made you a flower ring and everything!”
Koushuu doesn’t admit that he’d kept that ring until it fell apart.
“We haven’t been…together, though,” Koushuu says.
“Of course not,” Taku replies. “We’re in high school, and we were busy with other stuff, and you had to work through those weird crushes you had on Miyuki-senpai and Sawamura-senpai.”
“I did not have-!”
“You totally did, and it’s fine,” Taku says. “I’m surprised you didn’t date anyone this entire time, though. I did.”
Yes, Koushuu remembers the girlfriend Taku had for a few months, remembers how fiercely and furiously jealous he was of her. Taku’s confession, if it can be called that, isn’t a surprise, sure, but Koushuu expected to continue as they were, best friends and maybe something a little extra, growing closer without him realizing it.
But, of course, life isn’t that kind. They’re not going to the same university, although they’re both staying in Tokyo, and Taku isn’t playing baseball anymore. He still loves it, but there are other things he wants out of life, and he told Koushuu he was happy to keep supporting him in the aftermath of the huge fight they had about it.
Koushuu reaches out, but instead of grabbing the button, he grabs Taku’s hand, holding the button between their palms. Taku rests his head on Koushuu’s shoulder, and they watch the sun sink together.
“You’re not allowed to lose my number,” Koushuu threatens. Taku laughs.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “Come on. Our moms are making some huge celebration dinner at my house that they think we don’t know about.”
Koushuu didn’t know about that, actually, but he’s not surprised Taku did. He lets Taku tug him to his feet and lead him home, just like always.
