WON'T TURN BACK, miyuki kazuya

chapter 2

Fifteen minutes before the game starts, you find yourself in the dugout.

It's not as smelly as you recall it to be, likely because they've cleaned and sterilized everything since last season, so it'll all be downhill from here. You nod at the new ballboy they've employed, a kid named Jonathan; he'll be by the first base foul line.

"How do you feel?"

He flexes his hands, rubbing them on his pants; sweat glistens on his dark brown skin. "Nervous as hell," he admits. "I just don't wanna mess up, you know?"

"You read the guide?"

"Made flashcards and everything."

You smile. "Then you've got it. Don't worry."

"You think?"

"Yeah. And look, if you're not sure about something or it feels off, you'll know. Look around at the dugout or maybe the ump. If they're not paying attention to you, you're solid, okay? And if you have any questions after the game, let me know."

He lets out a slow breath and offers you a weak smile. "Thanks. What's your name again?"

You tell him and he repeats it, nodding. "Okay. Got it. Thanks again."

"No problem." Really. He reminds you of your little brother.

The stands are filled to the brim. Music plays loudly over the speakers. The Mariners are against the Minnesota Twins for the next three days, then one day of rest before they have three more games against the Texas Rangers. Then for three days after that, they're playing against the Kansas City Royals. It's only after that will they start a slew of away games. Their first set is in Tampa, if you remember correctly, in the last week of April.

A hand on your shoulder pulls you from your musings. It's Jimenez.

"We have a slight last-minute problem," he says lowly, looking unusually tense.

"That has to do with me?"

"Got the owner's twelve-year-old waiting in the clubhouse. Pretty sure if we don't let him be the ballboy for the first two innings, we all get fired."

You frown. "Why me?"

"He wants third base."

"Will I still get paid?"

"Of course."

You shrug. "Then I have no problem with it."

Tension melts from his shoulders. He squeezes your shoulder tightly. "You're the best, kid. Just - two innings, alright?"

"If he doesn't want to let it go, I still get paid for today, right?"

Jimenez just chuckles, squeezes your shoulder one last time and disappears down into the clubhouse. You huff softly, slouching against the bench. Your shoulder bumps against one of the large buckets of Dubble Bubble.

Jonathan heads out after you send him a thumbs-up, batting helmet and mitt held in hand. A minute later, you watch a little boy clamber out of the clubhouse, dressed in a mini-version of your uniform, with mini-versions of a batting helmet and a mitt. Do they just keep child-sized equipment around? You wouldn't be surprised.

He's guided onto the diamond by one of the staff to take your spot. You hardly mind - especially if you're still getting paid to just sit here.

Though once the game starts and the guys start sweating, you might rethink it . . .

A familiar voice calls your name.

Eijun hops down the steps into the dugout, glowing after his warm-ups in the bullpen, light brown skin shining with sweat.