WON'T TURN BACK, miyuki kazuya

chapter 10

The next day, the Red Sox come to town.

Despite Eijun's disgruntlement with Fenway Park and the so-called Red Sox propaganda in Godzilla: King of the Monsters, he practically vibrates at speeds unknown to man while talking about seeing Takigawa again.

Miyuki, you can tell, is sublimely pleased that they get to play them on home field.

The game — the first of four — starts off crazy immediately.

Top of the first inning, two outs, the third batter up is Takigawa himself. Both Miyuki and Eijun are playing this game; the latter is aiming to play the entire game if he can keep his pitch count low enough.

Takigawa fouls off two pitches. They head towards the first base line, where Jonathan grabs them and hands them off to people in the stands. After the initial jitters of the first week, he's settled in easily, making some great catches since then.

You rock back and forth on your heels, torn between moving closer to home or further away; you don't know where another foul might go and there are an alarming amount of kids seated in the front row of the stands near the third base line.

Eijun winds up. The ball flies from the tips of his fingers. Heading straight towards Miyuki's glove in the strike zone, but then, Takigawa swings.

CRACK!

You hold your breath. It's not a foul.

Instead —

The ball rockets straight towards the mound. All of it happens so quickly. Eijun leans back sharply, his arm still curled toward his chest, and the ball hits him, doesn't hit him? You don't know. It doesn't help that he ends up falling backward onto the mound.

Parker dives to make the catch.

You, however, only have eyes for Eijun, who cackles, still lying on the mound, his head lifted to, apparently, make sure they get the outs. Miyuki jogs toward him just as he sits up, mask off, lips moving to form a question.

"I'm fine!" you hear Eijun reply loudly, accepting Miyuki's outstretched hand, jumping to his feet.

As the team files off the diamond, Takigawa passes them, saying something, looking concerned.

Eijun waves his hands, reassuring him, you imagine.

Miyuki says something, too; an insult, you think, by the way that Eijun scowls and shoves him. Takigawa just smiles, jogging back to the visitor's dugout to get ready.

A slow-mo replay shows on the jumbotron. Sure enough, the ball doesn't hit him. It narrowly flies between his throat and the tip of his glove against his chest. He just leaned back so quickly he slipped and fell. The crowd ooh's, then cheers.

The bottom of the fifth inning, the Mariners are on offense, the score is still 0-0. Miyuki is up. Two runners on base, Eijun included, inching toward third from second.

You've had your work cut out for you this game. So much so that you've just resolved to stand, moving up and down the base line accordingly.

"Better not foul, Miyuki," you mutter, watching him kick around the dirt in the left batter's box.

It's like he hears you.

Logically, with all the cheering from the crowd, he doesn't, but he just has to. He doesn't swing on the first two pitches — balls — but he does on the third.

Your calves are pressed against the rock wall separating the stands and the field; two rows up behind you is a father, with three of his kids to the left — your left — they're all young, Mariners caps dwarfing their little heads.