Chapter Text
It was another scorching afternoon on Seidou’s training field. From first-string starters to second-string hopefuls, everyone was grinding hard for the upcoming tournament. The sharp clink of bats meeting balls echoed from the pitching machine, followed by the crisp thud of leather gloves snatching fast throws. Heavy footsteps pounded the dirt as players pushed through drills beneath the relentless sun.
“Listen up, everyone! On the field—now! Twenty laps, then you’re done for the day!” Yūki’s voice rang out, firm and commanding.
Without hesitation, the team formed into groups and began running, eager to finish and retreat to the bathhouse and cafeteria. Sweat soaked their jerseys, heavy breaths filled the air, and each second of the run felt longer than the last.
“Sawamura, you dumbass! Stop messing around and run properly!” Kuramochi barked, landing a heavy kick on Sawamura’s back, sending him stumbling into Haruichi.
“Oof! That hurts, Kuramochi-senpai! I’m taking this run more seriously than anyone!”
“Eijun-kun, are you alright?” Haruichi asked, steadying him.
“What? Are you saying your senpais aren’t taking training seriously?!”
“I did not say that!”
“That’s so disrespectful, Sawamura,” Miyuki chimed in with a snicker.
“Shut up, Miyuki Kazuya! You better hit my pitches later!—“ Sawamura snapped, clearly fed up. “—Furuya stop dozing off while running!”
It was the usual bickering among Seidou’s most animated members. The rest of the team just shook their heads and chuckled, half amused, half exasperated. Teasing Sawamura Eijun had become a daily ritual—his reactions were always over-the-top and hilarious. Still, some of them couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. With Kuramochi as his senpai, he was often the target of spontaneous wrestling moves. And Miyuki? His teasing never seemed to end, enough to make anyone roll their eyes.
Yet despite all that, the team silently admitted: Sawamura’s energy was infectious. Even after hours of grueling training, he somehow still had fuel left in the tank. Watching him was either exhausting or wildly entertaining—sometimes both. Even Coach Kataoka seemed to have grown used to their antics, barely reacting anymore to the chaos that followed wherever Sawamura went.
After cooling down together, the players headed to their respective dorms—some grabbing their bath kits, others making a beeline for the canteen to silence their growling stomachs.
Sawamura, sticky with sweat and grime, couldn’t imagine eating in that state. Alongside Haruichi, Furuya, and Kanemaru, he trudged toward the bathhouse. The moment he sank into the warm water, his body turned to jelly. His sore muscles relaxed, and drowsiness crept in. Still, he forced himself to stay awake—someone had to keep an eye on Furuya, or he might just fall asleep underwater.
After their satisfying soak, the group made their way to the canteen. With trays piled high, they settled into their usual table and began chowing down.
Sawamura, as always, was eating like a man possessed—and promptly started choking on his rice. Kanemaru, clearly used to this, sighed and patted his back with mild irritation while Haruichi calmly handed him a glass of water.
“Can’t a single day go by without you choking on your food? Seriously, Sawamura,” Kanemaru muttered.
“I’m hungry! I can’t help it!” Sawamura wheezed.
“Yes, you can, Eijun-kun. It’s not going anywhere. I’ll even give you my dessert if you slow down,” Haruichi offered gently.
“Haruichi, you’re such an angel!”
Kuramochi and Miyuki had just joined the table, their usual banter kicking off like clockwork. Sawamura was already caught in a headlock when Kanemaru nudged him.
“Hey, your phone’s ringing,” Kanemaru said, nodding toward the device on the table.
“Ack! W-wait! Mochi-senpai, let go of me! I need to check my phone!” Sawamura squirmed under Kuramochi’s grip.
“Don’t think you can wiggle your way out of this!”
Miyuki chuckled beside them. “Let him go, ‘Mochi. Might be someone important… or special?” His teasing glint made Sawamura blink in confusion.
He didn’t get the joke, but Kuramochi did. His grip tightened.
“Acckk! Kuramochi-senpai!”
“You bastard! Is that Wakana?!”
“I don’t know! Let go of me so I can check!”
“Hey! Quiet down over there!” a third-year barked from a nearby table, but Kuramochi ignored it.
He finally released Sawamura—only to snatch the phone from the table himself. It rang again. An unknown number flashed on the screen.
Kuramochi answered it, half-joking. “Hello? Is this Wakana? Is it true you’re Sawamu—”
The voice on the other end was calm but urgent. (“This is Nagano General Hospital. Is this Sawamura Eijun’s phone?”)
Kuramochi froze. “Uh… y-yeah, hold on.” His teasing vanished. He handed the phone to Sawamura, eyes suddenly serious.
Sawamura blinked, confused by the shift. “Hello?”
“Are you Mr. Sawamura Eijun? I’m calling regarding your family. There’s been an accident.”
The words hit like a thunder. As the hospital staff explained, Sawamura sat in stunned silence. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing. The cafeteria noise faded into a distant hum. His teammates exchanged glances, sensing something was wrong.
The brightness in his eyes dimmed. His breath caught. It felt like being punched in the gut—his heart clenched, his body numb.
“I… I see. I’ll call again after I inform my coach. T-thank you,” he murmured, barely registering the rest of the call.
He stood abruptly, swaying slightly.
“Excuse me,” he said, voice low and strained.
“Eijun?” Haruichi asked gently, concern etched in his tone as he noticed Sawamura’s paled face.
“Oi, Sawamura—” Kanemaru began, but Sawamura was already walking away.
No answer. No explanation. Just the sound of his footsteps fading, leaving behind a table full of stunned teammates and a silence that felt heavier than ever.
——————
Coach Kataoka sat in his office, reviewing the performance logs from that day’s training—meticulously recorded by the team managers. Across from him, Rei was organizing player paperwork, preparing to head home. The quiet hum of routine filled the room.
Then came a knock.
Kataoka glanced at the door and set the folder aside. “Come in.”
They expected a manager or perhaps one of the third-years. But when the door opened, it was Sawamura.
His presence was startling—not because he was unwelcome, but because he looked nothing like the Eijun they knew. His usual spark was gone. Shoulders slumped, eyes hollow, face pale. Even his steps lacked their usual bounce.
“Sawamura?” Rei said, standing halfway, sensing something was wrong.
“I… I’m sorry for the sudden interruption,” he began, voice low and strained. “I just received a call. My family… there’s been an accident. They need me back in Nagano.”
Kataoka’s expression shifted instantly—stoic, but attentive. Rei’s hand paused mid-reach for her bag.
“I’d like to excuse myself and leave as soon as possible,” Sawamura continued. “I’ll call again once I arrive. I just… I need to go.”
Rei stepped forward, her tone gentle but firm. “You’ll need someone to accompany you to the station, Eijun. We have to make sure you get there safely.”
Sawamura nodded, eyes distant. “Okay.”
Kataoka placed a steady hand on his shoulder. “We’ll take care of it. Go pack what you need. Rei will arrange the details.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
As he turned to leave, Rei watched him closely. The boy who usually filled hallways with noise and energy now moved like a shadow—quiet, heavy, and alone.
——————
It was past seven o’clock when Sawamura finished packing. Just the essentials—he didn’t know how long he’d be gone, but he didn’t want to think too far ahead. Kuramochi and Masuko watched silently as he slipped on his jacket and slung his backpack over one shoulder.
Kuramochi knew the call came from a hospital, but not the full story. Just enough to know someone was hurt. Just enough to feel the weight pressing down on Sawamura’s usually buoyant frame.
“Take care, Sawamura-chan. Call us, okay?” Masuko said, still clutching his pudding, untouched. His voice was soft, almost hesitant.
“I will, Masuko-senpai. I just need to see my family right now. I’ll be back.” Sawamura offered a tight smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes.
Kuramochi sighed and stood, walking over with a quiet heaviness. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Sawamura’s back. “Don’t make your friends and senpai worry, alright? Contact us whenever you can.”
“Yes, Kuramochi-senpai.”
Outside, Miyuki, Haruichi, and a few others had gathered, their expressions subdued. No teasing. No noise. Just quiet nods and murmured goodbyes. They watched as Sawamura climbed into the passenger seat of Rei’s car.
Rei had insisted on accompanying him to the station—he was still a minor, after all. It was protocol. But more than that, it was care.
The door shut with a soft click. The engine started.
No one said it aloud, but the air felt different. Like something had shifted. Like the hallway had lost a little of its light.
As the car pulled away, the team stood in silence. The usual chaos of dorm life faded behind them. No one knew what waited for Sawamura in Nagano. No one knew how long he’d be gone.
And in that quiet, beneath the hum of streetlights and the distant echo of cleats in the hallway, something lingered.
Something unspoken. Something that felt like it might never be said.