Short and Sweet

Sawamura Eijun. God, just thinking about that name got Mei’s blood boiling. 

The hot-headed first year from Seidou that always had this fire in his eyes that made him seem almost electric. He always shone with a determination that Mei couldn’t even describe. That determination pissed him off to entirely new levels.

Sawamura’s pitching wasn’t necessarily bad, it just lacked experience and tact. It was reckless and full of blind power. There was no real evidence of hard work behind it. It was just pure chaos. But that wasn’t even what bothered Mei the most. 

He would never know what it was like to have a natural talent for pitching. Mei had gotten to where he was through hard work and discipline, not wild pitches full of passion and mayhem. But somehow Sawamura made it work. And he didn’t even seem to realize how lucky he was! What the hell was with that? 

So as Mei was sitting across from the pitcher in question, he was clenching every muscle in his body to keep from diving over the table and strangling him. He was just going on and on and on about “how much I look up to you, Narumiya!” and “I wish I could be more like you!”

With every comment, Mei could feel himself losing his patience. “Eijun, would you stop that? You’re plenty good at pitching. Don’t sell yourself short like that,” Mei could feel his voice shake with anger at the end.

“But Narumiya-senpai! You’re so cool! Your pitches are, like, amazing! That’s the only word I can think of to describe them! They just go wham! Pow! Woosh! I wish I could just be as good as you one day!”

What Sawamura said next really sent him over the edge, though. 

“Seriously, I bet you don’t even have to try! It just seems so effortless! Do you even have to pract-”

Mei’s hands came crashing down on the table, effectively shutting Sawamura up and drawing the attention of several other people enjoying their lunch. He forced his eyes shut and hissed through clenched teeth, “You will never understand what I went through to get where I am. Don’t you ever pretend you know my past. Don’t you ever pretend to know what it’s like to work day in and day out tirelessly until your shoulder aches and your hands form blisters on top of your other blisters and your legs feel like they’re going to give out from beneath you. Don’t you ever pretend to know what it’s like to practice like that and not have anything to show for it.”

When Mei opened his eyes, Sawamura looked taken aback. But that was quickly replaced by a look of pure confusion. “Narumiya-senpai? You don’t think you have anything to show for it?”

Mei found himself unable to respond, and just tightened his grip on his fork.

Sawamura’s eyes got wider as he cocked his head to the side. “Mei. You really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Mei stabbed his fork into the wood table, once again drawing the attention of bystanders. “Save it, Eijun. I don’t want to hear it.”

“No, Mei. I think you should hear this,” Sawamura started, his voice uncharacteristically calm. “I never realized you were this dense. I always thought you knew how amazing you are. Mei, I look up to you more than anyone else in the whole world. You are truly an amazing pitcher. You work hard, you have so much talent, you have the aura of a leader, you know how to keep up the moral of your team, you have confidence, and, well, you’re just the perfect pitcher! You have everything! You can’t tell me you have nothing to show for all your hard work. If that were the case, we would have gone to Nationals instead of you.”

Mei’s eyes flickered up to meet Sawamura’s. He was sure there was a blur of emotions crossing his face, if his looked anything like Sawamura’s. Those big brown eyes were shining with a new kind of determination, one that was mixed with admiration and another emotion that Mei couldn’t place. 

Sawamura reached across the table to place his hand over the one Mei had used to grip the fork. Mei jerked his hand away, not because he was disgusted, but because he was utterly confused. He had never seen Sawamura so serious. This was a new side of Sawamura that confused Mei. It was also at the moment he saw this new side of Sawamura that he realized he had fallen for the hot head, and he had fallen hard. 

Sawamura just looked down at the hand he had placed on Mei’s, looking dejected. “Sorry, I guess I got a little caught up in the moment-”

“Eijun. Can we get some air?” 

Sawamura raised an eyebrow, the look of dejection still lingering on his features. “Yeah. Yeah, sure,” he sounded unsure of himself for the first time.

Mei stood up without any more words and headed for the door of the restaurant, expecting Sawamura to follow. Sure enough, he trailed behind Mei like the lost puppy he was. The pair walked for a long time - Mei wasn’t exactly sure how much time had passed, but he wasn’t trying to keep track. 

By the time the sun began to set, he found himself standing in front of the baseball field across the street from his house. This was where it had all begun. He stopped in his tracks, vaguely aware of Sawamura’s presence beside him. “You know, Eijun, this is where I first learned how to pitch.”

Sawamura perked up at the sound of his given name. “Really? Then history was kind of made here!”

Mei smiled and shook his head, stifling a small laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He walked out onto the field, stopping when he reached the pitcher’s mound. As he lifted his gaze towards home plate, he suddenly felt like a little kid again. He could hear his Dad’s voice behind him, directing him to snap his hips more and make sure his fingers were following the seams of the ball. 

“You look happy,” Sawamura’s voice cut through Mei’s thoughts, successfully grabbing his attention. 

“Yeah. There were a lot of great memories here. Sometimes, I wish things were still that easy. When baseball was just something I did for fun, and it didn’t matter how good everyone was. We were all just trying to make friends and enjoy each other’s company. I miss it sometimes, you know?” Mei turned to Sawamura with a nostalgic look in his eyes.

Sawamura smiled softly. “I think I get that. I miss my friends from junior high sometimes, too.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, listening to the crickets and the children on the playground nearby. “Neh, Mei? About what happened at the restaurant-”

“Don’t worry about it, Sawamura. I didn’t mind.”

Mei sat down on the mound and patted the sand beside him, motioning for Sawamura to sit down next to him. He hesitantly sat down and turned to face Mei. “Hey, you know, I really like you. Sometimes I’m not very good at showing my feelings, but I thought I would just tell you in case you couldn’t tell. But it’s okay if you don’t like me back. I’m okay with just being friends.”

Mei froze. Even though he knew Sawamura always wore his heart on his sleeve, he certainly wasn’t expecting him to confess like that out of the blue. “I, uh, well I guess I could kind of tell? But it’s not a bad thing! I guess I kinda like you too,” Mei whispered the last part, not sure if he was ready to admit his feelings yet. 

It didn’t matter, though, because Sawamura heard and his face immediately lit up. “Really! Oh, I thought there was no way you liked me back! You’re always so ‘Gah, Bakamura shut up! You’re so annoying!’ and ‘I’m so much better than you!’”

“Oi! That’s not true! I never talk about being better than you!”

“Yes you do! That’s, like, all you talk about!”

“It is not!”

“It is, too!”

“Bakamura, shut up!”

“See?! There it is!”

“God, you’re so annoying. It’s a good thing I like you so much.”

For the second time that night, Mei had effectively shut Sawamura up. And for the second time that night, Sawamura placed his hand on top of Mei’s. But this time, Mei didn’t pull away.