Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Time does not change us. It just unfolds us."

----Max Frisch

“One more!”

“End this Seidou!”

Amidst the deafening cheers, Sawamura Eijun hardly heard them. He could hear his teammates shouting and cheering for him, but their words were lost on him as he stood at the center of the stadium, trying to calm his nerves. It didn't help much; he was sweaty and hot, feeling like he was in a desert rather than an actual field. His heart hammered against his chest as his mind raced. 

Koshien….last chance….need to win…

Eijun took deep breaths to ease his racing heart.

This is it.  

Just one more and they will go to Koshien.

He had been working so hard towards this moment, training as much as he could and trying to get himself and his team ready for this moment. He had never felt so determined to win, so focused on success. Every single mistake would cost him and the team the chance to go to Koshien. He had to do this, he had to win this one final game.

“GO SAWAMURA! YOU CAN DO THIS!”

“SEIDOU! SEIDOU!”

(Badump Badump Badump)

He could feel the pressure on his shoulders; all the practice, all the hard work it had taken for him and the whole Seido team to get to this point. All of the hours spent in the field, honing their skills, running drills, and perfecting their plays. All of it had led him here and he was determined to make the most of it.

With a renewed determination, Eijun stepped forward and prepared to pitch.

He felt the sweat trickle down his face as the adrenaline started to course through his veins as he swung with all he’d got. And he waited…waited for that satisfying smack—

“BALL!”

Fuck

He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back a frustrated sigh and tried again.

Harsher. I need to pitch it harsher.

(Badump, Badump, Badump)

His fingers twitched as he tried to steady his hand, and he took another breath, steadying his aim with all his might.

As he began to swing his arm back, he could feel every muscle tense up.

Just do it.  

(Badump, Badump, Badump)

His arm swung back slowly, with all of his concentration focused on getting that last strike.

Then he threw it…

Then there’s a loud clang, the sudden silence in the crowd, and a voice so loud it rang back to him that for a moment, he just stood there, frozen in shock and fear.

And before he knew it, the game ended.

There was nothing left in his head besides the overwhelming noise of the crowd. The cheers were still ringing in his ears, even as he stared out at the pitch. His arms felt numb, his legs were wobbly and everything felt like a blur.

He was so tired.

They lost. They had lost.

Sawamura dropped to his knees, looking down at the ground blankly. It felt surreal, as if he was watching something from afar. Everything seems hazy, like he was underwater, not really seeing or hearing what was happening before him.

Everything happened too fast for him to register what was going on. He thought they would have won. He knew they could have won. But then he remembered who was pitching and…

His breath hitched, his eyes prickling with unshed tears. He tried to stand, to move away, to escape the noise. There were people all around him and he couldn't think straight, not when he was surrounded by people who put their hopes on him . But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to move.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to his feet. “Hey, are you okay?”

The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it. He looked up, trying to focus on the person's face.

No, I’m not.

“I'm fine,” he said instead, his voice sounding far away from him.

“Don’t mind it, Sawamura. It’s because the batter is standing that close to the base. Not like you did it on purpose.”

No, just admit it. It’s my fault.

“Yeah, It’s alright really so don’t let it get to you, okay?”

No, it’s not. I can hear the disappointment in your voice and it’s my fault that…that we…

“I’m sorry” he muttered quietly.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

But he allows himself to apologize again and again, even though he knows it won't change anything.

That night, as he stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep, he allowed himself to drown in thoughts of regret and self-pity.

He remembers the looks of disappointment, the resignation on senpai's faces, the shattered hopes that for a moment, they look so tired, so worn out that it… .it’s just too much.

He's so naive, oozing with confidence but really knowing nothing. He's so full of himself, always sauntering around the team, promising they will go to Koshien. But in the end, they still lost and it’s all because of him.

It always is. Now he knows , he was never good enough, never good enough for the team.

He was so weak. A burden. He realized it now.

Coach gave him a chance, a chance to prove himself and yet…it all just… it felt like he just wasted it away.

He must be so disappointed. 

His heart aches, his vision blurred by the tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. The silence was deafening, filled only by his own sniffling. 

How can he be an ace like this? Will he still be considered an ace?

He let out a bitter laugh.

No way that's happening. After what happened today? Zero chance.

Furuya will be the ace because that’s just the way it is.

Even Chris-senpai said so… that as long as Furuya is in his year, he’ll never be an ace.

He gets it now.

God, he's so disappointed in himself.

Even now, he can still recall the smack of the ball, the echo of his voice so loud like a mantra ringing through his ear, repeating over and over again in his head.

‘DEADBALL’

'DEADBALL'

'DEADBALL'

'DEADBALL'

'DEADBALL'

A gasp escapes his lips and he clutches his chest as he sits up, gasping for air. His hands are shaking slightly, the adrenaline in him coursing through his veins, making it feel as if his heart was about to explode any second now. He takes a deep breath, and tries to calm himself down, taking his time as he tries not to think about it;

But it only grew worse because it's the only thing that he can think about, replaying over and over again, and how stupid he was for letting the pressure get to him at that time.

He can’t help but wish he could turn back time and do things differently. To prevent them from losing. To prevent himself from being such a disappointment.

Is it selfish of him to wish for that?

Would things have turned out differently?

Maybe…

If only it would be that simple.

A sigh escaped his lips as he closed his eyes, forcing himself to sleep.

"–Wamura"

"Sawamura"

"Wake up Sawamura"

Noise rumbled in the background as Sawamura rolled over. "Let me sleep more, mochi senpai"

"Wake up you brat, we have a match today."

Match?

A sharp headache assaulted him from behind his closed eyes when he tried to sit abruptly. He groaned, and forced his eyes open. His vision was a bit blurry, as though someone had smudged their finger on the inside of his eyelids. Slowly, he blinked, trying to clear his head. As soon as his eyes could focus, he saw Mochi-senpai getting ready with Masuko-senpai.

Huh?

He blinked again, trying to clear his head.

“Masuko-senpai?”

“Yes, Sawamura-chan?”

Sawamura frowned, clearly perplexed. He let his gaze wander over Masuko-senpai’s belongings. He hasn't yet packed, but I saw him doing so last night.

"I thought you were moving out today," he said, confused. “I clearly saw you packing last night, not that I'm unhappy, but what happened?”

The two shared a confused glance, obviously sharing some unspoken communication. When Masuko spoke, he replied quietly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Sawamura-chan.”

“B-but—”

“OI SAWAMURA STOP TALKING NONSENSE AND GET READY ALREADY!” Kuramochi interrupts, yelling at Sawamura. Sawamura winces at the harsh tone and loud volume, rubbing his throbbing temple.

Kuramochi stomps off, followed closely by Masuko-senpai who hesitantly smiled at him and tried to reassure him in his gentle tone of his that; Don’t mind Kuramochi and yes Sawamura-chan take your time but be sure to be ready soon so you can eat your breakfast.

Sawamura just smiled fondly at him after that.

Finally alone, Sawamura gets up slowly then walks towards the closet to change his clothes. While changing, there’s a lingering sense of unease which makes him feel unsettled. There's an uncomfortable feeling crawling under his skin. A sensation like something is… not right ... 

Is it because of Masuko-senpai? Or is it because they aren't as affected by our loss as I expected?

It’s confusing but he brushes it aside as quickly as he could. The feeling is probably only because he’s still pretty worn out that he didn’t know how to act around them anymore. Will he still go to his usual bubbly self? Pretend that nothing happened? Will they still accept him?

He has no idea. Nevertheless, he hopes that it isn’t too bad. If only he knew…

This is not something that Sawamura expects, to be honest.

Gloomy yes, anger yes, disappointment, sad, you name it. Sawamura is bracing himself for the worst, expected to walk in to the senpais crying, expected to be blamed in some way, even though none of them would say it like that. He was expecting a lecture, or some form of emotional turmoil.

But this…

This doesn’t make any sense.

The whole dining hall is buzzing with anticipation, a mixture of excited murmurs and gossip filled whispers flowing through the room.

For what? He didn’t know.

Sawamura stands frozen, unable to think clearly. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, couldn't understand what he was hearing. Everything’s a bit blurry, as if he was staring at a scene through glass, like his eyes couldn’t properly register what was before him.

His stomach turns uncomfortably, almost sending a bile through his mouth.

What’s going on? What’s gotten into everybody? Why are they so happy? We just lost….but what is this?

He feels disoriented, his heart pounding in his chest, threatening to beat out of his ribcage. He tries to calm down, trying to ignore his own discomfort, but he feels so… strange. He can hardly stand the overwhelming emotions rushing through his body, making his limbs feel unsteady.

He needs to leave. To unwind, To hide, whatever you want to call it.

Sawamura tries to walk away from the noise and commotion around him, but his body won’t obey his commands.

He didn’t know how long he stood there but he felt a hand on his back, warm against his chilled skin, and turned slightly to see a familiar face.

“Miyuki”

Miyuki grinned at him but seeing his expression, of how vulnerable he is at the moment, his smile falters.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” His voice sounded quiet, as though concerned.

Sawamura opens his mouth, ready to tell him everything, to ask him what was happening, but no words came out. He can’t talk. Not now.

Instead, he looks up into Miyuki’s eyes, looking deep in them, as though trying to convey to him something, anything. It’s only then that he realizes how close they are standing and how much taller than him Miyuki is.

He doesn’t have time to think about it because Miyuki pulls away, stepping back. As though understanding his silent plea, he places a gentle hand onto Sawamura’s back, guiding him away from the dining hall.

They end up outside on the roof. Sawamura immediately notices the absence of voices within the building, the sound fading in and out as the wind blows loudly around them.

The air seems fresh outside, clean, refreshing. Even despite the slight shiver that ran down his spine, Sawamura took a breath deeply, letting his senses soak in the fresh breeze. For the first time in a while, he felt normal. At peace. 

He glances over to Miyuki who takes a seat on the edge of the roof, patting beside him for Sawamura to do the same.

Sawamura does, sitting next to him, legs dangling over the edge.

Silence falls between them as they sit together. The silence that neither wants to break, yet both craves for.

It seems like an eternity until Miyuki speaks, breaking the silence. “Did you want to talk about what happened?”

The question startles Sawamura, making him turn his head toward his catcher, surprised at the question. He stares at Miyuki, searching his eyes for something. An answer? Some reassurance that the conversation wasn’t too hard for Miyuki either?

Instead, Miyuki merely watches him patiently, expectantly. Almost as if he is waiting for Sawamura to say something, to open his mouth or look him in the eye. His eyes hold warmth and curiosity.

Sawamura looks away and bites his lip as he contemplates his response. Finally he decides on the truth, he wants answers, and he hopes that Miyuki will understand.

“It’s my fault we lost. I—” he breathes heavily and looks at Miyuki again. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I’m going crazy. I don’t know what happened but why are the others acting like yesterday’s loss didn’t happen? Tell me, Miyuki-senpai please?” He finishes with a begging tone, his voice shaky, barely able to control himself. 

Miyuki appears taken aback by his sudden outburst, and he studies him with a puzzled frown on his face.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about, Sawamura," he cautioned. "What loss are you referring to? We didn't have a match yesterday, as far as I know, unless it's your nerves acting up….” he trails off, a smirk making its way on his lips. “I understand”

Not again. He scoffs and slaps Miyuki’s arm slightly. “Be serious for a minute, Miyuki Kazuya. This is important! I’m talking about our match yesterday, against Inashiro.” he responds with a hint of irritation. He doesn't understand why they are acting like nothing happened.

Miyuki suddenly laughed, “Nice joke, Sawamura. Are you that nervous that you’ve started talking nonsense now?”

Sawamura glared at him.

“Hey don’t look at me like that,” he continued, his face serious. "Listen, I honestly don't know what you're talking about since there was no match yesterday and certainly not against Inashiro because we're playing them today. I understand if you're nervous, but Sawamura, get your act together; this is the finals, and we can't have you acting like this if we want to win." He says softly, putting his hands on the other boy's shoulders. "So calm down, and take some deep breaths so you can concentrate properly."

His hands stay firmly placed on Sawamura’s shoulders for a few moments before releasing them. One last glance at him and he turns away and continues walking away, leaving Sawamura alone, frozen in place with his eyes wide open, staring at where Miyuki had just been.

Chapter Text

"Denial is a defense mechanism. When confronted with a painful truth, the mind has a remarkable ability to simply reject it."

----Sigmund Freud 

What just happened?

And what did Miyuki mean by that?

The match against Inashiro didn’t happen yesterday but will certainly now ? Is that it?  

How ridiculous is that?

He didn’t understand anything Miyuki said to him. It sounds crazy! No matter how much he tries to wrap his head around what’s happening, he just can’t grasp the concept of something like that…

He thought maybe his brain malfunctioned and he was imagining things, or that Miyuki was joking, or that he was hallucinating from lack of sleep, or—well whatever. 

Because it just didn’t make sense!

The game against Inashiro. Their final match of the season in front of hundreds of spectators. How could they simply—not remember that? It’s impossible, right? That happens right? I’m not going crazy or something… right?

No. His logical reasoning tells him otherwise. He’s never doubted that he is indeed sane; that is why he has never been afraid to express his opinions aloud, even without an audience to listen. And yet here he is, thinking Miyuki Kazuya made a mistake and was messing with him and his feelings…

But Miyuki wouldn’t lie about something like that. No—he’s serious, he’s sincere. I saw it.

He tried to swallow down the lump rising in his throat. His mind is whirling with thoughts, all jumbled together, unable to separate one from another.

Deep breaths, Sawamura. Deep breaths.

Everything will be fine. 

He closes his eyes, focusing on inhaling deeply, counting to ten and exhaling slowly, taking in as much oxygen as possible.

Don’t overthink everything and stop jumping to conclusions. 

He needs to take things slowly; slow down, let his heart and mind rest. Everything will be alright.

He finally calmed down and opened his eyes once more, blinking several times, trying to clear his thoughts and focus on something else than the whirlwind in his brain.

Suddenly, he heard someone calling his name. Haruichi…

“Eijun-kun, are you okay? I thought I saw you with Miyuki-senpai. Are you excited about the match?”

The sight of his friend, who looked completely excited, opposite to what Sawamura anticipated, does nothing but confuse him further.

Haruichi is smiling at him. And he smiles back. But inside, something is churning, telling him that Miyuki is right. From the moment he woke up, what he saw in the dining hall… everything.

"I'm okay, Harucchi. I'm just excited for the match. Now, let's just go back inside." He replies, a forced smile plastered on his face, which clearly shows how uncomfortable and uneasy he feels.

Haruichi doesn't seem convinced. But instead of pushing it any farther, he nods his head and follows him back into the building.

When they step foot back inside, the noise and activity levels are still loud and busy. Everyone seems happy and cheerful, talking and laughing. Sawamura calmly took it all in this time, his mind reeling with questions as he follows Haruichi and joins in with everyone.

Okay, there’s something strange going on, alright, but for now, he needed to make sure just how crazy this situation is.

Sawamura can’t fathom how true that statement is. Here he is, looking dumbfounded as he stares at the familiarity around him.

“THEY’RE HERE—!!”

“SEIDO’S NINE!!”

“GO TO KOSHIEN THIS YEAR SEIDO!!”

A strange sensation fills his chest and stomach, his heart beating faster than usual, his palms sweating, a cold sweat rolling down the side of his neck.

No, this isn’t right.

This is real!

This is all too real

There’s no denying now.

We’re really having a match against Inashiro today.

He watched it all unfold in front of him, and it felt surreal, unbelievable, but it’s really happening and he couldn’t think of a reason why it should be happening. 

It’s almost as if nothing changed.

He watched as Seidou went on the offense first while Inashiro defended. Kuramochi starts to bat on the left, Narumiya ends up walking him on balls.

It goes on and on and on…just like he expected.

He’s like watching a movie that’s been playing forever. The same scenery, the same characters, nothing changes, the same dialogue flows as before. Nothing has changed since the start of the match!

That can’t be the case, can it?

His brain is screaming at him to accept reality. It can’t be possible. There’s no way this thing could actually be happening.

This must be a dream, a terrible nightmare that will soon end.

His lips trembled, his hands shaking. He didn’t know whether he should laugh or scream. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

To turn back time and do things differently? To prevent them from losing?

Wasn’t this what he wished for himself?

So why was he feeling so… so scared?

Why did the sight of Shirakawa make his insides twist?

He felt dizzy. He didn't know what to do.

He was frozen on the spot, his shoulders tense, his hands felt clammy around the ball.

Everyone on the team encouraged him but he couldn't help but blocked all the noise, unable to shake off the rising panic that threatened to consume him.

This had to be a nightmare, a very bad one. It would feel better to wake up now. Wake up, wake up, wake up, please, wake up— 

But as he stood on the mound, his eyes locked on Shirakawa, the memories of their previous encounter flooded back with an intensity he hadn't anticipated. The pain of defeat, the frustration of failure, it all surged through his veins, threatening to suffocate him.

He felt like throwing up.

The ball in his hands felt like a burden, its weight magnified by the weight of his doubts and insecurities. He tried to steady his trembling lips, to encourage his body to cooperate, but his efforts were in vain. Doubt had taken hold, and fear had found its way into his very core.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. Turning back time, rewriting history, it was a romantic notion, but facing the same opponent in the same circumstances was proving to be more daunting than he had ever imagined.

His legs felt weak, threatening to give way beneath him. The cheers of the audience turned into a cacophony of noise, the pressure mounting with every passing second. The expectations of his teammates, the hopes of the spectators, they all bore down on him, their weight unbearable.

And at that moment, Sawamura made a choice.

With a heavy heart and a trembling hand, he stepped away from the mound, leaving behind a bewildered and shocked crowd. His teammates stared at him in disbelief, their voices drowned out by the deafening silence that enveloped the field.

Confusion and disappointment flickered in their eyes, mirroring the tumultuous emotions within Sawamura himself. He had let them down, he had let himself down, but he couldn't ignore the storm brewing inside him. 

He was so overwhelmed with emotion, he couldn't even think straight.

He needed to be alone. He had to. 

So he ran off without looking back, leaving behind a stunned and speechless crowd.

"What was that?" Kuramochi demanded, turning around and running after Sawamura. But Sawamura paid him no mind, not daring to look over his shoulder or say anything. He ran as fast as he could. He just can’t deal with this right now.

"What was all of that just now, damn it?!" Kuramochi yelled after him, following closely behind. But Sawamura wouldn’t answer him. He continued sprinting, barely aware of where he was going. “You can’t run off like this!”

“Shut up,” Sawamura barked back, not slowing down his pace even though Kuramochi's shouts and footsteps kept getting closer to him. He needs some space. He needed to clear his head. His head hurts. So much pain, so many emotions, it feels like it’ll burst any minute. He wants to cry but he doesn’t know how. Maybe it’s because of all those memories rushing in all at once, flooding his senses.

“No, are you crazy?! What is happening to you? Get your head in the game!”

Oh god.

He took a sharp intake of breath as he finally stopped running. Sawamura dropped his gaze to the floor, his knees buckling as he bent forward. He covered his mouth with his shaky fingers and let a few tears fall down his cheeks. Oh, god, this really is too much for him. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

“Sawamura?” Kuramochi's voice sounded far away. "Are you okay?" He couldn't respond, his throat closing up. He could only stare numbly at the floor, unable to process what had happened. How could he do something like that? How could he let his feelings take over like that? Even worse—

He breathed heavily,  trying to calm down, but failed miserably. His breathing increased as his hands shook harder, his thoughts growing darker and heavier with each passing second.

“Sawamura, what really is happening to you? I-I’m your senpai. Tell me.”

"Don’t," Sawamura said and quickly wiped his cheeks, trying to act normal despite how badly he wanted to collapse onto the ground and sob. He shook his head in refusal when Kuramochi approached, taking his arm and guiding him to one of the benches nearby. “Not now, mochi-senpai.”

“B-but—”

He closed his eyes tight, willing himself to calm down. “I–you wouldn’t understand…Just leave me alone, please. ”

Kuramochi sighed. “Alright, alright. Don’t push yourself so hard like this. We’re here for you—and we can get through this together. You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

“I know,” he muttered quietly, smiling sadly.

He just hopes that everyone else won’t blame him too much for everything that happens later on, although he did deserve it.

The atmosphere was solemn when they came back, their expressions heavy with defeat, exhaustion and sadness which only served to make Sawamura feel worse. The silence was deafening, leaving nothing but an oppressive heaviness which he couldn’t shake away from his body. Everyone walked slowly and with caution, looking everywhere except at Sawamura. He didn’t blame them, really. He knew why they were doing it. They probably thought he would react badly if he saw their faces. He deserved it.

He was a coward. A fool. And even more pathetic.

He always feared confrontation but never faced it until now. And now that it’s actually coming towards him, he’s paralyzed. No words left his lips, no movement of any kind. He couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, he could only stand there with wide, unblinking eyes, staring at the people who once stood by his side and defended him in a way that nobody else could. Now they were standing before him without any trace of their usual bravado or strength. Just plain sadness.

It hurt. A lot.

They probably hate him. Sawamura knew they must be furious at him. How could they not be?

Even now, he still couldn’t believe he did that. Couldn’t believe that he let go of all restraint and turned out to be such a weak, foolish person. But it made sense. Everything in him screamed to run away from that place, to hide from all these stares that burned holes into his skull, and he did.

And now, he has to face it again. He has no choice. But he didn't even know what to tell them either.

He was so confused by everything that was happening to him. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It should be them practicing again, getting stronger, full of hope, ready to crush Inashiro again. 

Not like this. Reliving the same scenario, feeling the same pressure, the same guilt,   knowing that every moment he spent trapped in the mound would only lead to failure.

He wanted to explain himself but couldn't find the words to form sentences. He was afraid of seeing their faces. Afraid to see how angry they truly are. It terrifies him.

It wasn't supposed to hurt this bad. He felt numb. Hollow inside. All he wanted was to scream. Scream that he was sorry. That he was wrong. That everything was his fault. Because he was. It’s always been him.

So he mustered his courage and looked up at them, hoping that they'd hear the apology he was about to make. His throat tightened and his heart clenched painfully but he forced himself to speak anyways. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I...I’m sorry.”

Forgive me, he begged silently. Forgive me.

He knows he can't make things better now. Not by simply talking. But he can try at least, to let them know that he's sorry.  

And when he was in his dorm, lying on bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, surrounded by silence and darkness and emptiness, he wondered what tomorrow would bring.

He just hopes that everything will be back to normal again.

When he woke up again, he found himself in his familiar dorm room, bathed in the dim light of the morning sun. As he blinked away the sleep from his eyes, a feeling of dread washed over him. 

Masuko-senpai is still there.

"No, not again," Sawamura muttered under his breath, dread pooling in his stomach.

Chapter Text

"We are the sum total of our experiences. Those experiences – be they positive or negative – make us the person we are, at any given point in our lives. And, like a flowing river, those same experiences, and those yet to come, continue to influence and reshape the person we are, and the person we become. None of us are the same as we were yesterday, nor will be tomorrow." 

---B.J. Neblett

He pushed himself to sit up slowly. The events of last night seemed so distant as if it had happened months ago rather than mere hours. Yet, they were real. He knew they were real.

But what does it mean?

Sawamura's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the situation. The memories of the match against Inashiro, his sudden decision to step away from the mound – they were still fresh, still vivid in his mind. And now, here he was, back in his dorm room, faced with the same reality he thought he had escaped.

His gaze fell on Masuko-senpai, who was bustling around, gathering his things just like he had done countless times before.

"Morning, Sawamura-chan! Slept well?" Masuko-senpai's voice was cheerful, completely at odds with the turmoil that churned within Sawamura.

Sawamura managed a weak nod, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, you know how it is. Early mornings and baseball, they go hand in hand."

Masuko-senpai chuckled and exchanged a knowing look with Kuramochi, who was busy tying his shoelaces nearby. "True that. Hey, we're heading out for practice soon. You better get yourself together."

Sawamura nodded, his thoughts still a tangled mess. As Masuko-senpai and Kuramochi left the room, he collapsed back onto the bed, his mind whirling with questions that seemed to have no answers.

"What does it mean?" he murmured, his voice a mixture of frustration and desperation. Could it be that everything he experienced – the time travel, the match against Inashiro – was just a dream? A vivid, unsettling dream that had felt so incredibly real?

No, he thought. It was real. He could still feel the weight of the ball in his hands, the stares of his teammates, the gaze of Shirakawa piercing through him. It was all too vivid, too visceral to be a mere dream.

But how was this possible? How could he have woken up on the same day after making such a momentous decision? Was time playing tricks on him? Or was there something deeper at play, something he couldn't quite grasp?

Sawamura swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his movements automatic but his thoughts racing. He needed answers, and he was determined to find them, no matter how unsettling or elusive they might be.

“Hey, Chris-senpai…Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Sawamura’s voice quivered slightly as he addressed the tall figure hunched over his locker, his equipment neatly organized. Chris looked up from his task, his calm and observant eyes fixing on Sawamura. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he nodded in response.

"Of course, Sawamura. What's on your mind?" Chris's voice was measured, his demeanor open and approachable.

He took a deep breath, his thoughts racing like a whirlwind. He was about to reveal something that sounded bizarre even to himself. But if there was anyone who might understand, it was Chris-senpai.

"I know this might sound crazy, but... have you ever experienced something that you're sure is real, but then it's like it never happened?" Sawamura's words tumbled out in a rush, his gaze fixed on Chris, searching for any sign of understanding.

Chris raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You're being rather cryptic, Sawamura. Can you give me an example?"

Sawamura fumbled over his words, his face turning slightly red. "Well, it's like... imagine if you were in a game and you made a huge decision, something that could change the course of everything. But then, you wake up and it's like that decision never happened. Like time went back."

Chris frowned thoughtfully as he mulled over Sawamura's words. "Hmm. That sounds like a case of time traveling or it could just be you're waking up from a very weird dream that seems too real."

Sawamura gave a quick nod, a surge of hope filling him. “Exactly! Time travel, what do you know about it, Chris-senpai?”

Chris looked at him thoughtfully, seemingly confused. “Why’s the sudden interest though? Shouldn't you be asking about the upcoming match against Inashiro?”

Sawamura blinked, momentarily thrown off by Chris's response. "I mean, of course, the match is important, but this... this is just something I’ve been curious about, I guess.” he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

Chris looked thoughtful again, nodding. "I see. Well, I don’t know much about it. There are some theories, of course, but those are pretty vague. Some scientists believe it was caused by a natural phenomenon, like a massive explosion that created a large hole in space and time. Others believe it may have been caused by the use of advanced technology or the manipulation of time and space, as well as an experiment gone terribly wrong."

Sawamura's eyes widened in fascination, his mind racing to grasp the implications of Chris's words. "So, you're saying that it's theoretically possible?"

Chris shrugged, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Theoretical is the keyword here. Our understanding of time, while advanced, is still limited. What you're describing could be a result of many things – a vivid dream, a glitch in your memory, or who knows, maybe even a glimpse into the fabric of time itself."

Sawamura nodded slowly, his thoughts whirring. "But how do you know? How can you tell if something is real or just a dream?"

Chris's gaze softened, a hint of wisdom in his eyes. "Sometimes, you can't tell immediately. You have to navigate through it, gather more information, and piece together the puzzle. And if it is indeed something extraordinary, something that defies the norms, well... you'll have to confront it head-on."

Oh.

Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place. Hope surged through him once again, his heart pounding erratically.

So, that’s what I had to do huh?

That made sense.

As Sawamura stepped onto the field, a sense of purpose coursed through him. Chris-senpai's words had ignited a spark of determination within him. If this was truly a second chance, a chance to prove himself, then he wouldn't waste it.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the stadium. The familiar sounds of the crowd, the distant chatter of his teammates, all seemed sharper, more vivid. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes, allowing him to see the match in a different light.

As the match commenced, he stepped onto the mound, the ball firm in his grip. This was the same match, the same opponents, but everything felt altered, like the pieces of a puzzle rearranging themselves. The memories of his past encounter with Inashiro still lingered, the weight of his previous decision pressing on his shoulders.

He remembered every move they made, every mistake he made – the fear, the confusion. Even now he was fighting to stay focused, aware that this time, nothing would go wrong.

Everything will be alright. Just keep it together. Just keep playing.

He couldn't erase the past, but he could confront it, learn from it, and shape a different outcome. This time, he wouldn't run away. This time, he would face Shirakawa, face his fears, and give it his all.

His heart raced as he delivered the first pitch. The ball soared through the air, and a chorus of cheers erupted from the crowd. Sawamura's focus was unyielding, his mind clear and resolute.

Inashiro's batters stepped up, their expressions a mix of focus and determination. Sawamura's eyes locked onto Shirakawa, the one who had haunted his thoughts, the one who had symbolized their defeat.

He could do this, he could do this.

I could do this.

Until he couldn’t.

It was as if time had suddenly slowed down, as if everything around him had stopped moving. The sound of the fans cheering and chanting faded into the background. All he could see was Shirakawa, grinning, victorious and the whole Inashiro celebrating.

Sawamura felt as though someone had punched him hard in the stomach, his breath catching painfully in his throat. His mind was numb, paralyzed, completely unable to process anything other than the feeling of pain. He could hear nothing other than the deafening silence surrounding him, the sound of blood rushing through his ears. 

How could he let this happen? How did this happen?

H-he couldn’t….couldn’t look up, couldn’t see the looks of defeat, resignation, disappointment—

Sawamura gasped, clutching at his chest as if it were physically hurting him, his breaths coming in short gasps, his knees trembling uncontrollably beneath him.

They lost. They had lost. Again.

And it was entirely his fault.

Chapter Text

"You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step."

----Martin Luther King Jr.

“Nice game!”

“Be proud!”

“Don’t cry, Isashiki!”

“You were so close!”

That’s right. We were so close, multiple times even and yet…

Sawamura's chest tightened as he got on the bus, the weight of their loss settling heavily on his shoulders. The echoes of encouragement and consolation from the crowd did little to soothe the ache of disappointment gnawing at his heart. Each step he took felt like he was trudging through a mire of regret and frustration.

Three times. Three times we’ve come so close to victory only to fall short. How could this happen again? What am I missing?

The bus was filled with the hushed murmurs of his teammates, their faces reflecting the same mixture of exhaustion and dejection that he felt. Sawamura sank into his seat, staring out the window as the scenery blurred by, lost in his thoughts. He replayed the match in his mind, dissecting every pitch, every decision, trying to find where it all went wrong.

His mind was a whirlwind of doubts and questions. He remembered the intense focus he had before stepping onto the mound, the resolve to change the outcome. And yet, it had all slipped through his fingers once more. 

Just because he saw Shirakawa.

A wave of frustration washed over him. How could one player have such a hold over his psyche? Every time he faced Shirakawa, doubt crept in, eroding his confidence. Sawamura clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

Why does this keep happening?

Why do I keep failing? Why can’t I change this?

“Sawamura?” Miyuki’s voice broke through his thoughts. The catcher slid into the seat next to him, his usual smirk absent. “You okay?”

Sawamura glanced at him, trying to muster a smile, but it faltered. "Not really," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Miyuki sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Yeah, I figured as much. This loss stings for all of us. But you know, we did our best out there."

Sawamura's eyes narrowed as he looked down at his hands. "Did I, though? I mean, it’s evident that you did your best out there but what about me? I can’t even pitch right.”

Miyuki was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Sawamura's clenched fists. "Sawamura, baseball isn't just about individual performances. It's a team effort. And you gave it your all. Sometimes, things just don't go our way."

Sawamura shook his head, frustration bubbling up again. "But it’s like Shirakawa gets into my head. Every time I face him, I feel this... doubt. It’s like I can’t shake him off."

Miyuki studied him for a moment, then leaned in slightly. “Do you want to tell me why?”

Sawamura looked away, his voice quiet but tinged with sadness. “You wouldn't understand”

Miyuki's eyes softened, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a gentler, more understanding expression. "Try me," he said softly. "You might be surprised."

Sawamura hesitated, the weight of his thoughts pressing heavily on him. He took a deep breath, trying to gather his words. “Later. I will tell you later.”

It’s not like Miyuki will remember any of this.

As the bus rumbled on, Sawamura's mind drifted back to the match. He could still hear the crack of the bat, see the trajectory of the ball, and feel the crushing weight of defeat as it landed just out of reach. He had thought this time would be different. He had believed in his ability to change the course of their fate.

But he still failed. Three times.

And then what? He will repeat the cycle again. Alone, with no one truly understanding the burden he carries, the secret that isolates him.

How sad is that?

It’s late at night and it’s just the two of them, with Miyuki squatting behind the plate and Sawamura on the mound, about to pitch.

Sawamura grips the ball, feeling the familiar texture beneath his fingers. The quiet of the night envelops them, and for a moment, the weight of his thoughts lifts.

It’s nice, he thinks.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the cool night air fill his lungs. The field is silent except for the distant chirping of crickets. Miyuki’s steady presence behind the plate is reassuring, grounding him in the present moment. Sawamura’s mind clears, the tormenting thoughts of the day fading into the background.

Miyuki shifts slightly, signaling for the pitch. Sawamura nods, his focus narrowing to the target. He winds up and delivers the ball, feeling a sense of release as it leaves his hand. The ball sails towards Miyuki, who catches it with a satisfying thud.

"Good pitch," Miyuki said, standing up and tossing the ball back. "Again."

Sawamura catches the ball, but the satisfaction of a perfect pitch quickly fades. His thoughts are louder now, clamoring for attention.

He sees Miyuki moving his mitt closer to where the batter is supposed to stand, and his heart starts pounding loudly in his chest. The ball feels clammy against his palm, sweat making his grip slippery. 

He tried to focus, he really is.

But then….

He imagines Shirakawa, standing at the plate, his eyes piercing through him with that confident, almost mocking grin.

The ball slips from his grip, and he stumbles, the pitch veering wildly off course. His heart races, and his breath comes in shallow gasps. Sawamura's body begins to shake uncontrollably, the fear and doubt that he had been trying to suppress surging to the surface.

Miyuki stands up immediately, concern etched on his face. He walks over to Sawamura, his eyes never leaving the trembling pitcher.

"Sawamura," Miyuki says softly, placing a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "What’s really going on?"

Sawamura’s gaze drops to the ground, unable to meet Miyuki’s eyes. "I... I can’t get him out of my head. Every time I think I’m over it, he’s there, mocking me, reminding me of how I failed."

Miyuki’s grip tightens slightly, a steadying presence. "Hey, look at me," he says, his voice calm but commanding. Sawamura slowly raises his eyes to meet Miyuki’s.

“Tell me everything”

Sawamura hesitated, the words caught in his throat. He felt the sting of tears in his eyes but blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. "It's... it's hard to explain," he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Miyuki stepped closer, his expression serious. "Try. I told you, you might be surprised."

"Shirakawa," Sawamura finally whispered, his voice trembling. "Every time I face him, it's like... it's like I'm back in that moment, failing all over again. I can’t shake the image of him at the plate, that look in his eyes."

Taking a deep breath, Sawamura looked away, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I'm stuck, Miyuki. I'm stuck in this... loop. This time loop. Every time we play against Inashiro, no matter what I do, we lose. And then I wake up, and it's the same day all over again. No one else remembers. Just me."

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of Sawamura's confession hanging in the air. Miyuki didn't speak for a long moment, his eyes searching Sawamura's face. "A time loop," he repeated slowly, as if testing the words.

Sawamura nodded, the tears he had been holding back finally spilling over. "Three times, Miyuki. Three times I've watched us lose. I can't... I can't keep doing this. I don't know how to change it. I don't know why it's happening. And I'm so, so tired."

Miyuki's hand remained on Sawamura's shoulder, the warmth and firmness grounding him. He took a step closer, their faces now only inches apart. The world seemed to shrink, the night air thickening with unspoken emotions. Sawamura could see every detail of Miyuki's face: the way his eyes reflected concern, the slight furrow of his brow, the faint stubble on his jawline, the subtle curve of his lips. It was like seeing him anew, each detail intimate and profoundly personal.

"You're not alone," Miyuki repeated, his voice barely more than a whisper, but it carried the weight of a promise.

Sawamura's breath hitched as he looked up into Miyuki's eyes. There was a depth there, an understanding that went beyond words. He felt exposed, his fears laid bare, but in Miyuki's gaze, he found not judgment, but acceptance. The proximity made his heart race, a different kind of tension crackling between them.

Miyuki’s other hand came up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from Sawamura's forehead. The touch was tender, almost reverent, and Sawamura's breath caught in his throat. He could feel the heat radiating from Miyuki’s body, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

"I can see how much this is hurting you," Miyuki said softly, his eyes never leaving Sawamura’s. "But we're in this together. We'll find a way."

Sawamura swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. "I don't know how to change it, Miyuki. I'm scared."

Miyuki's hand slid down from his shoulder to his arm, squeezing reassuringly. "We'll figure it out. One step at a time. You don't have to do this alone."

In the quiet of the night, surrounded by the stillness of the empty field, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. Sawamura's pulse pounded in his ears, a mixture of fear and something else—something softer, warmer, a connection he hadn't realized was there.

Miyuki’s thumb traced small, soothing circles on his arm, and Sawamura found himself leaning into the touch, drawn to the calm strength it offered. The vulnerability he felt was matched by the quiet intensity in Miyuki's eyes, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the burden he carried seemed lighter.

"Miyuki," Sawamura whispered, his voice breaking slightly. "Thank you."

Miyuki's lips curved into a gentle smile, and he nodded. "Always, Sawamura. Always."

For a moment, they stayed like that, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight, the world around them fading into insignificance. It was just the two of them, closer than ever, silently promising to face whatever came next together.

Sawamura felt something shift between them, something deeper. For the first time, he felt truly understood, like he wasn't alone in this anymore. And that made all the difference.