Chapter Text
“Eijun, we’ve had this discussion before–”
“What discussion?! You’re just avoiding the topic!”
Sighs and frustrated footsteps. The rustling of clothes, a bag being pulled over the shoulder.
“This is stupid. I’m leaving.”
“Eijun, wait.”
“If I knew it was going to be like this, then I shouldn’t have fallen for you!”
The loud echo of his final words causes his finger to twitch slightly, and abruptly there are familiar voices all around him. Familiar, but at the same time, not really familiar. To his left, he thinks he hears Miyuki. But Miyuki doesn’t sound like that. He’s full-time arrogant and the biggest asshole he’s ever met, part-time the Catcher who never fails to impress him on the field (annoyingly so). This Miyuki sounded frantic, worried. Somehow, it made his heart thump a little faster.
To his right, Kuramochi and Wakana. Probably. Because what he hears is Kuramochi whispering soothing words to his childhood friend, and her crying into what was most likely his shoulder, and nothing is making sense.
So, even though Sawamura’s eyes felt dry as heck, and the process was painful as though he hasn’t opened his eyes in a long time, he manages to crack a lid. The sudden brightness blinds him, and he groans. If that choked sound could even be called one.
“Oh my God, he’s really awake!” A blurry figure – Sawamura thinks it’s Wakana – jumps into who could only be Kuramochi’s arms with a cheery yelp. “Hurry, Miyuki, call the doctor!”
Miyuki? No way was she referring to Miyuki Kazuya, right? She hasn’t even met the guy; why is she addressing him without honorifics?
“Oi, Sawamura! Ya hear me? Sawamura!”
Sawamura wants to yell at Kuramochi to shut up, his head’s ringing, but his throat is dry and it hurts to even part his lips, so he squeezes his eyes shut and attempts at a shake of his head, hoping he’d get the message. Thankfully, Kuramochi does, and goes to grab Sawamura a glass of water. Since when was his senior such a considerate guy? It doesn’t matter; he’s grateful when he swallows the liquid, his voice finally able to break free, finally able to ask the question he’s wanted to since he regained consciousness.
“What happened to me?” God, was that his voice? It sounded so hoarse, so raspy, so deep, as though it came from his very stomach. That wasn’t how he sounded. Or was it? He faintly recalls a moment he’d spoken in that voice, but he had a feeling it wasn’t a pleasant memory.
“What happened? Dude, you got hit in the head by a friggin’ baseball in the last game. You scared the shit out of us! Hell, Miyuki’s got it the worst of us all. He’s practically been here the whole time!”
In the last game? What last game? But Sawamura’s head was hurting again, and he can’t think. There are chatters and footsteps, and Miyuki is back with what could only be, from past experiences (what past experiences?), a doctor and a nurse. A doctor and a nurse? Why? What the hell is going on?
“Excuse me, I need to examine the patient. If you would please wait outside…”
“Absolutely. We’ll be waiting outside. Please, notify us as long as you’re done.” Sawamura hears them leaving. He doesn’t want them to, then the drowsiness hits three seconds after he’s dosed with something, and he shouldn’t, but he’s relieved that he’d be rid of this headache that was killing him. When he wakes up, he tells himself, when he wakes up, he’ll figure it all out.
Then again, the logic of expectation vs reality works especially well for Sawamura, and he wakes up howling for food, which alerts the nurses –
Wait, nurses? Wasn’t the whole thing from… he shrugs inwardly, not really recalling the events in great detail, a dream? He sits up a little too quickly and the world spins for a moment. When he reaches a hand to rub the side of his head that was throbbing, he feels bandages. Now, why the hell would his head be wrapped in bandages?
A doctor was instantly at his side. “Hey, don’t push yourself. It’s probably a side effect after the surgery. It’d go away soon.” Surgery. Since when did Sawamura undergo a surgery? Was he actually dead and possessing someone else’s body, because that sounds like the only logical explanation–
“Eijun! You’re awake?”
Sawamura grinned and turns at Wakana’s voice and…
“WOAH?! WAKANA?!” Her hair is much longer than he remembers, lighter in color with thicker curls, the length almost touching her fingers at her side. She seemed taller, more ladylike in her flowy dress, and he feels himself blushing for some reason. He looks away, looking into her eyes made him think of things he should never think of when he saw his childhood friend. He wasn’t used to this Wakana. She stared at him for moments before approaching the doctor and they speak about his injury, ignoring Sawamura’s existence. The injury on his forehead he didn’t even know how he got.
The doctor leaves just as Kuramochi enters the room and Sawamura realises for the first time that this was a room, like the kind you’d find in a rich man’s house. Yet this place was, without a doubt, a hospital room.
“Hey hey, what’s with the commotion? Oh, Sawamura! You’re finally up, huh, you lazy ass!”
If Wakana was different, Sawamura had no words for Kuramochi. His chin seemed sharper, and black bandana was wrapped around his forehead, and his eyes didn’t shine with the look of mischief Sawamura was so used to. He, too, was taller, his arms lean beneath the jacket he wore. With this look, Kuramochi seemed ready for a run to home… within three seconds.
He stalks towards Wakana, and kisses her on the cheek as greeting which makes Sawamura’s eyes pop out.
“You contacted Miyuki yet?”
“He didn’t pick up, so I left him a voice message and a mail.”
“Ahh, probably still at practice, then.”
Why would they contact Miyuki? What about his parents and grandpa? Knowing them, they wouldn’t not come. They make small talk before finally directing their attention at him.
“You’re being a little too quiet, Sawamoron. If you’re worried about Miyuki, he’s fine.”
No, why the hell would he be worried about the tanuki at a time at this?
“Hey, Kuramochi-senpai… Where are my parents? And grandpa? And you – Wakana – Wha…?” He trails off, feeling as though he’d asked the same question before. But no way, right?
The three stare unblinkingly at each other for a full five second before Kuramochi burst out laughing, the sound as sharp as Sawamura remembered, and that, in itself, was a comfort if anything.
“What are ya talking about? Did’ja get hit too hard in the head and lost your memories?”
Sawamura wasn’t laughing. When Kuramochi sees that, his smile melts into an expression more serious, the kind usually only seen when he’s on base with a big lead, concentrating, ready to steal a base or two the moment the opposing pitcher pitches.
“…Sawamura, what’s the last thing you remember?”
His eyebrows crease in thought. “Umm… We’re about to start our first match at Koshien.”
“What year is that?”
“What do you mean? This year, of course!” Liar. Something in Sawamura knew that wasn’t possible. The memory felt so distant, so far. The voice in his head told him he wasn’t 16. “I’m a first year… and you’re a second year, right?” His own voice sounded strained to his ear.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m calling the doctor back here.” Saying that, Wakana rushes out of the room, shouting for the doctor even as she goes. Sawamura feels his hands trembling. Or was it his lips? All of him?
“Kuramochi-senpai…?” Said man was on the phone, shouting. “Goddamit, Miyuki! Pick up the goddamned phone! I think Sawamura has amnesia, the idiot!”
Amnesia?
Not more than ten minutes later, the room was filled with people – Wakana and Kuramochi standing close, worried looks on their faces, Miyuki in the corner of the room with his back to Sawamura so he doesn’t see what kind of expression he’s having. The two doctors bombard him with questions, a nurse taking notes whenever Sawamura answers. With every question, every answer, the faces of everyone becomes grimmer, and he only becomes more confused.
Amnesia. It can’t possibly be anything like that. He’s Sawamura Eijun, not some protagonist from one of those manga tagged with Psychological and Angst.
The doctors stand, frowning. “Let’s have this conversation outside.”
“Hey, I want to know too.” I deserve to know, he thinks to himself. But the doctor shakes his head. “I need to have a talk with them first, Sawamura-san. This… may prove to be somewhat of a problem.”
Everyone makes their way out except for the nurse, who stands by Sawamura’s bed, watching him intensely.
“…Um, is there something on my face?” She jumps, and shakes her head. “No! It’s just… My son is a huge fan of yours. I was hoping to get your signature.”
“My signature? Why?”
At that reply, the look in the nurse’s eyes soften into something – pity? – and she shakes her head gently. “I suppose you wouldn’t remember.” Sawamura wants to ask what did she know about him, but there is shouting from outside, and a bang on the wall has both of them in the room flinching.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” It was Kuramochi. “I didn’t hear anything about this!”
More shouting, though Sawamura can’t make out the words (he thinks they moved further away from his room), and silence. Then the room bursts open, Kuramochi tearing off his bandana and slapping it on the sofa before leaning himself against it for support, as though standing upright was too much. The nurse bows and mutters a quick exit; Sawamura doesn’t blame her.
“Goddammit!”
What was that supposed to mean?
Miyuki comes in and squeezes his shoulder. “It’s fine, Mochi.”
“Hell no, it’s not! This isn’t fair! Not to Sawamura, not to you. Heck, not to the whole damned country!”
And what was that supposed to mean?
In that moment Miyuki casts his first glance at Sawamura and his heart skips a beat. He was handsome, Sawamura knew that, but this was on a different level of hot. Miyuki’s hair is trimmed shorter than the one Sawamura knows, and there is a faint scar on his left brow that was never there before. His face is rougher, the arrogance of a genius Catcher toned down.
For the first time since he woke up, Sawamura feels fear. Next to nothing was as he remembered. What, exactly, had he forgotten?
“What is it? Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, right?” Miyuki turns away, biting on his lips, and Sawamura’s heart sinks.
“…Kuramochi-senpai?”
The man twitches at his family name before he turns and sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. He meets Miyuki’s eyes and the man nods.
“I think it’s better if you see for yourself.”
There is a beep, and the 55 inch widescreen TV hung on the wall in front of Sawamura switches on to a local Sports channel.
“It has been a week since one of Japan’s top pitchers, Sawamura Eijun, received a hard blow from his own pitch to the head…” A footage played, and Sawamura sees someone closely resembling him pitching, and the batter hitting it right back and it hits him square on the side of his head, the sound of a crack resonating with the pain he felt even now.
“…The country is concerned about Sawamura’s well-being, and whether the man will recover before the awaited match in August, only two months away.” The scene changes and now the screen shows people holding up cards; the camera zooms and oh my God they were cards with his name on it, wishes for him to recover and return back to the mound soon.
The same beep, and the screen is blank. Instinctively, Sawamura’s head turns in Miyuki’s direction but he manages to stop himself and focuses on Kuramochi.
“This…”
“That’s you. You’re a star now, Sawamura. The baseball you’re playing? You’re playing for Japan. Six years. Sawamura, you’ve lost six years of your life.”
Six years. What’s 365 days times six again? Sawamura tries to calculate, but then his stomach lets out a loud sound, stunning everyone in the room. He’d completely forgotten that he was hungry. He chuckles nervously, just slightly sorry for ruining the mood in the room.
“Can I eat first, then we talk later?”
Turns out, Sawamura’s a whooping 23 years old now, his birthday having just been a few weeks before. He is currently playing for the national baseball team as one of their two main pitchers – a local celebrity. That explained the VVIP hospital room.
Even more amazingly, Kuramochi and Wakana were married. Turns out they’d been texting about Sawamura since he had the yips out of concern, and, well… things escalated (they were unwilling to elaborate, faces both red like tomatoes). Kuramochi works as a math teacher (surprises, surprises) back in Seido, and Wakana an accountant. That part wasn’t so hard to believe after seeing them earlier. The 17 and 16 year old them, probably, but the 24 and 23 year old them? They looked like a perfect fit. He reminds himself to congratulate them; it’s not everyday the past you can take a sneakpeek into the future.
Compared to all those, the most unbelievable of all things was actually –
“I’m rooming with Miyuki-senpai?” Sawamura almost chokes on his rice as he hears that bit of the news, and his eyes naturally drift towards Miyuki, who had not spoken a single word since he entered the room.
“Yeah. You two are on the same team, after all. Good way to strengthen bonds, so the coach said.” For three years, they have been rooming. Were they on good terms? Sawamura can’t imagine that. “Plus, someone needed to take care of your ass after the thing with your family and Miyuki just happened to be open.”
He stops chewing at that. “…What about my family?” Rather, where are they?
Kuramochi opens his mouth but no words come out, and Sawamura forces himself to think on the bright side. Surely, they just hadn’t arrived yet.
“–Actually.” Everyone turns to Miyuki; it’s the first time he’s spoken. Sawamura isn’t sure why he’s getting goosebumps even though it was Miyuki. “They’re away on a family trip. Been going on trips often since you being a star earned tons. And I was tasked with you since you obviously cannot take care of yourself.”
He’s not meeting my eyes. That, and his overly cheery tone seemed like a good enough reason to not believe Miyuki. “Where?” God, Sawamura swears, in that moment when he waits for an answer there was nothing more annoying than the light that hid Miyuki’s eyes behind his pair of damned glasses. He bends his back, trying to get past the reflection and just look into the man’s eyes. Then Miyuki’s head snaps up and their eyes meet.
“Somewhere you won’t know the way you are now, Sawamoron –”
There he is! The Miyuki the 16 year old Sawamura knows. He feels the blood rush to his head – has it been a long time since he felt like this? “Nghhhh!! Miyuki Kazuya, you asshole!!”
“Well,” Miyuki continues, walking towards the bed, effectively ignoring Sawamura. “They’re just having a vacation at the time, and it’s halfway round the globe so we decided against worrying them. You know how your parents get.”
That’s true. If it was Sawamura, he wouldn’t have thought that far ahead. Or maybe that’s just cause his head just got rewinded six years back – not like he knows about the 23 year old him or anything, but still. Something felt off about what Miyuki said. Sawamura can’t quite get what’s wrong exactly, but it just didn’t feel right. Call it his sixth sense – and it’s just about always spot on.
“Hey, guys. I’m finally done with the discharge papers.” He doesn’t get to press on further when Wakana comes back, her hands filled with what could only be the discharge papers.
“Discharge?” That was a quick development. Wasn’t he bedridden like just, what, hours ago?
“Well, yeah. The doctor’s given you a once over earlier and you’re fine now. Plus, it’s better for someone with amnesia to be somewhere they’re familiar with, you get what I mean?”
“Oh.” Kuramochi did have a point.
“Get changed, then we’ll go home.” Miyuki tosses Sawamura a shirt and pair of pants he doesn’t recognise he pulled out from a drawer (they even had those prepared?), and turns to the couple. “Thanks for everything, Mochi, Wakana-chan.”
“Don’t worry about it. I know how it feels to have this happen to someone you’re close to. But you sure you don’t want us to come with you?”
Miyuki shakes his head, a tiny smile on his lips. “No, it’s fine. You’ve done plenty for us already. You guys better go before Yui-chan gets lonely. I’ll call if anything happens.”
“Well, if you say so… Catch ya soon, Sawamura!”
Sawamura manages to muffle out a goodbye as he pulls on the shirt, trying to wave to the two. Comfy and well worn, the gray shirt fit to his size. He’s glad his tastes hasn’t changed even after six years. He pulls off the blanket and slips his feet into a pair of sneakers; those were comfy too. And definitely an expensive brand.
“OK, shall we go then?”
For the first time in days, Sawamura stands. The view seems different; did he get taller over the years? He glances at Miyuki – the bastard was still taller!
“Eijun?”
His whole body reacts to the way Miyuki says his name and he shakes it away. I’m just not used to this, he tells himself. He had more important things to worry about. The first question arose the moment they stepped out of the lift and into the main lobby: How the hell were they going to get home? People and reporters were everywhere. Sawamura was lucky Miyuki had forced a cap upon him and settled for a beanie himself.
“Gah… I guess they caught wind of the hospital you were staying at after all. This way.” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, Miyuki takes Sawamura’s hand in his and pulls him in the opposite direction, through a secure door that Miyuki somehow had access to. He sees the question in his eyes. “It’s not the first time this has happened.”
Huh? Oh. He was referring to discharging from hospitals. Sawamura doesn’t ask whether it was him, Miyuki, or someone else he was referring to. They come out to a car park, and Miyuki heads straight for a black Audi and practically shoves him into the front passenger seat.
“Ow! Could you be any more rough towards a patient?” And seriously? Miyuki could drive? Sawamura was thinking they’d have to take the bus to some secluded area and walk 10 miles before they reached their place. That was how it was with celebrities in movies.
“You’re one of Japan’s Top 10 Pitchers of the decade, you can deal with a little rough.” Sawamura had no comeback for that. Miyuki gets into the driver’s seat and pulls out the car immediately and speeds through the hospital gates before he can even buckle his seatbelt. Sawamura swears he could hear people shouting their names when they were forced to slow down for traffic before turning out to the main street. No one followed.
It takes a full two minute before Sawamura decided he could no longer contain his curiosity.
“So who’s Yui-chan?”
The reply was instant. “Yui-chan’s Mochi’s and Wakana-chan’s daughter. They leave her with the Kominatos when they come visit you.”
“You mean Harucchi and Onii-san?” Rather, Kuramochi and Wakana have a kid already?! Wasn’t he just 24, and she 23?
“Mmhmm. They’re apparently neighbors, by some creepy coincidence. And for the record, they did come to visit you a few times while you were in bed.”
“Huh.” If they’re staying together, that means they’re both unmarried. To think they are, and Kuramochi isn’t. One really can’t tell what fate has in store for them, it seems.
“Anything else?”
“Huh?”
“I’ll answer whatever I can if it helps.”
Sawamura did have a lot of questions, but at Miyuki’s offer, they were suddenly lost in the wind. His mind was a blank canvas. Screw it; he’d just throw out whatever comes to his mind.
“So… you can drive?”
Miyuki chuckles softly. “Yes, Eijun.” He shivers again at the sound of his name; Miyuki needed to stop doing that. “It’s more convenient since, as you saw earlier, we can’t exactly just walk on the streets like we used to do. You can drive too, actually. Though you probably don’t remember that.”
Right. That was a stupid question. Time for an even stupidier one.
“Why do you call me Eijun?”
The Audi skids to a stop by the road. “Huh?” Someone certainly wasn’t expecting the question. Now Sawamura was genuinely curious. “Kuramochi-senpai and Wakana still call me Sawamura. Why are you the only one calling me by name?” He isn’t able to say ‘it makes me all weird and tingly when you do that’ because it doesn’t even make sense to him; why would it to Miyuki?
“Hmm…” Miyuki ruffles his hair; the thick curls look soft to touch, and Sawamuda finds the oddest urge to sink his hand into them. To feel. To inhale the scent.
Wait, what?
“Natural course of events, I suppose?” Thankfully Miyuki’s words catches his attention, and he is able to forget about the hair. By forget, Sawamura means shoving it to the back of his mind to ponder over later. “I mean, it has been six years. Plus we’re on the same team. It just felt right that we’d be on first name basis after everything.” He shrugs. “If you’re not used to it, I can go back to calling you Sawamura again.”
“That’d be a live saver.” Sawamura probably failed in trying not to sound too relieved. Whooooops. Time for the next question. “Do I call you by name too?” That was unimaginable. Miyuki starts the car again then, and they’re back on the road. They’re still in Tokyo (so the GPS reads), but Sawamura doesn’t recognize the roads. A few more traffic lights, and they turn into a more narrow road. The car slows down, thank God; Sawamura didn’t think he could handle any more.
“No, you don’t.”
Miyuki doesn’t elaborate, and Sawamura decides to drop it, and the drives continue in an awkward silence. He doesn’t know what to say to this Miyuki – how different is he? Would they still be able to communicate like they did in the past? Perhaps the 23 year old him is a completely different person.
“Sawamura?” Yes, that sounded much more natural than Eijun.
“Y-Yeah?” It’s been over fifteen minutes, why couldn’t Sawamura buckle the damned belt?!
“Are you okay?”
It finally clicks and he relaxes. He’s plenty sure Miyuki asked a question, but he didn’t catch it. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” The car comes to a complete stop, and the window on his side rolls down. “See that?” Sawamura looks outside – okay, so he sees this huge building, estimately three times the size of his house.
“What about it?”
“That’s our house.”
“O-kay… What about it?” It’s huge, two stories high, has a garden on one side, and he can smell what was probably an outdoor pool on the other. He hoped there was a gym and bullpen installed somewhere. Sawamura can’t really imagine himself owning the building though; his parents would probably have to work a few lifetimes just to afford it. There are many things he can say on how he feels about the house, but what answer is Miyuki expecting from him? When Miyuki sees that Sawamura had no idea what to say, he sighs.
“Aren’t you… scared? Of all this? You were just told you lost six years of your life, and everything’s changed from what you know. Even now, as we sit here and I’m telling you this is your house, this is where you live now… Don’t you feel any suspicion?” Miyuki’s voice was filled with genuine concern, perhaps even fear. Not for himself, but for Sawamura.
Oh, I get it now. Miyuki’s worried about him. It’s definitely a strange way to show it, but that’s Miyuki for you. Sawamura does find sense is in what he says – it’s common sense. Normally, of course one would be confused, lost, scared. So is he. Just not as much. Because… Because…
“I’m okay,” he finds himself saying. “It’s okay because it’s you. I do know you, Miyuki-senpai. And I don’t think you’ve lied to me about anything till now. Sure, it’s a little creepy to wake up and find six years have passed, but it’s like an adventure, don’t you think? Plus, this is a totally cliché manga plot, and the protagonist always ends up getting back his memory in the end!”
By the end he was shouting, getting riled up at the memory of all the manga he’d read. Miyuki simply sighs and unbuckles his seat belt.
“You know, Sawamura, I’ve always wondered whether the pros of your stupidity ever outweigh the cons.”
“W-What’s that supposed to mean?!”
“Exactly as I said.” Miyuki was out of the car in an instant and unloading the stuff in the bunk. Sawamura’s stuff, to be exact. He felt bad about letting him do it, so he rushes out and grabs the largest bag – hey, it isn’t as heavy as he thought!
“I’ll carry this. It’s my stuff, after all.”
“If you say so. Why don’t you go up first and I’ll go park the car? The key’s in your front pocket.” Miyuki doesn’t even give Sawamura a chance to say no before he’s driving towards the garage. He feels around his pockets and finds the baseball keychain. The color has already mostly faded, parts chipped off; it must have been a gift from someone close to him.
Sawamura is in awe as he climbs up the steps to his front door. Everything was electronical, and they came with the preferred good ol’ traditional locks. Turns out he didn’t really need the keys; after a hand print scan the doors were unlocked and he was in his house.
“Oh, wow…” He’d thought the outside looked impressive, albeit distant and totally not his style but the interior was… homey. It certainly still gives off the rich people vibe, but Sawamura recognises some of the furniture from his old house, and there were pictures of his admired pitchers on the walls. Not only that – the walls were filled with pictures, even leading to the second floor. Sawamura’s childhood photos, Miyuki’s childhood photos (the rascal actually looked adorable!), photos of them two, photos with people Sawamura didn’t even recognise. He’s never seen any photos back in Miyuki’s dorm -- never thought he’d be the sentimental type. He drops the bags by where he thinks bags go and decides to explore the house.
To his left was the kitchen, and outside that led to the well maintained garden. He slides the door open for a whiff; it smells good. Nothing that made his nose itchy. To his right, the shower. A huge bathtub, though not bigger than the one in Seido, and a normal shower. Sink, check. Toilet bowl, check. The door on the other side of the living room probably led to the pool, which Sawamura held no interest in at the moment. What about the most important: training room? The machines, the large hall… Upstairs, perhaps?
“How do you find the house?”
Sawamura jumps and almost trips over the first step; he prays that Miyuki didn’t catch the embarrassing moment like he was so good with baseball.
“Oh, um, er.” He clears his throat. “It’s great.” Curse his sixteen year old vocabulary. He should’ve at least retained memories till he graduated high school! “I was just about to see the second floor. Do we have an indoor gym?”
“Sure do. It’s upstairs, the first room to the left.”
“Awesome!” Sawamura skyrockets up the stairs, Miyuki close behind, excited to see what kind of equipment would be available for him to try out. The 23 year old him must be an amazing pitcher to play for the country. Then he halts on the final step.
“Wha… What is this?!” Directly in his face was an open door – and the inside was a mess. He can see clothes thrown all over the floor, the bed from the corner of his eyes unmade. On the ground, just by his feet, was a baseball mitt. What on earth could’ve had happened?
“Oh! This,” Miyuki swiftly picks up the mitt, tosses it into the bedroom, and shuts the door. “Just, you know. Hadn’t really had the time to clean up after you were hospitalized.”
“Hoo…” True enough, Kuramochi did mention that Miyuki had been shaken. But to this extent, Sawamura didn’t expect. He suddenly feels a little apologetic towards Miyuki. It must have been lonely to be sleeping in this big house alone.
“Sawamura? Didn’t you want to see the indoor gym?”
With just that one sentence, all worries were shoved in a box and locked with a key long lost. Positivity is Sawamura’s only good trait, and what better time to prove it? He hurries after Miyuki into the room on the left. There was only one word to describe what was on the other side of the door: Heaven.
The smell, the feel of the ground beneath his feet. There were several bats of different weight hung on the walls, shelves filled with mitts and baseball gear of different sizes. A basket full of used baseball. In the back, a bullpen (thank God!) coupled with a batting centre. At the entrance of the bullpen, Sawamura finds a mini diamond model. On the glass, in his handwriting, were the words “World Domination!!”. He grins. Great minds think alike. He’s starting to think this won’t be so bad after all. He can get used to this life. He can, but…
“Anything feeling familiar to you?”
That was the thing. “Nothing. Everything’s great and all, but nothing’s coming back to me. Not even when I saw the house, or the photos.” He feels his back slump at his own uselessness, then a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
“Hey, don’t stress yourself out.” Miyuki’s voice was gentle, a tone he rarely used, let alone with Sawamura. “It’s only day 1. We have until August. Or, worse come to worst, we’ll just pull you out of the game.”
To be honest, Sawamura hadn’t even thought about his career at the time. He was so caught up with dealing with whatever’s given to him physically. But now it dawns on him. A game in two months… National level pitcher… Playing for the country…
“OH MY GOD! That’s right, I’m a National level pitcher now! What will the country do if I can’t pitch?!”
Miyuki laughs. “There we go. There’s the Sawamura I know.”
“STOP LAUGHING, MIYUKI KAZUYA! This isn’t a joke! What are you doing, hurry up and help me practice!! I’m losing to everyone by six years here!” Oh my God, I have so many things to catch up on! Sawamura wonders how many new pitches he’s learnt the past six years. And how much Miyuki has improved as a Catcher. Excitement has him grabbing a glove and a baseball.
“Hurry up, Miyuki-senpai!”
“Alright, alright!” Then in a softer voice, “Trust baseball to do the trick.”
“Did you say something?”
“I said, what a simpleton you are!”
“Nghhhhh, you bastard!! If it wasn’t for the fact that you’re still unfortunately my Catcher, I wouldn’t want to throw to you either!”
Fat lie. Sawamura was thrilled. Thrilled to find that after all these years, he still had a connection to Miyuki. The warmth he feels bubbling inside him is a mystery. A mystery he can solve afterwards. Amnesia? Losing six years’ worth of memories? All those worries melt away the moment he grips the baseball he knows so well.
“Ready?”
“Anytime.”
They’re both grinning.