Chapter Text
The heat in the Seidou dugout was always oppressive, but today, it felt thick enough to choke on. They had just barely scraped a win against a fierce university invite team in a practice match, and the tension among the varsity players was razor sharp. Furuya sat in the corner with a giant ice pack strapped to his shoulder, staring blankly at the dirt. Coach Kataoka was at the far end, looking over stats with a grim, unreadable expression.
Everyone was exhausted. Everyone was on edge.
And then there was Sawamura Eijun.
"Alright, look up, you guys," Eijun’s voice boomed through the narrow concrete dugout, his hands cupped around his mouth like a megaphone. He was pacing back and forth, towel draped over his neck, his face flushed red from the heat. "A win is a win. We showed them the grit of Seidou. Don't let your shoulders droop now, we have the tournament coming up. Boss, tell them, we need more spirit."
"Eijun."
The voice cut through his shouting like a blunt blade.
Eijun stopped pacing. He blinked, turning his golden eyes toward the bench.
Miyuki Kazuya was sitting there, his catcher's gear half undone, sweating through his undershirt. He had a towel over his head, shading his eyes, but his mouth was set in a hard, irritated line. He looked completely drained, rubbing his temples as if Eijun’s voice was physically striking him.
"Can you just stop being loud for once?" Miyuki muttered, not even looking up at him. His tone wasn't his usual teasing, sarcastic banter .It was cold and heavy. "It’s exhausting."
A heavy silence dropped over the dugout.
Eijun froze, one foot still lifted in mid-stride. He laughed, a short, awkward sound, waiting for the normal sarcastic grin. "Ah? Miyuki-senpai, what are you saying? The dugout needs energy, if we don't stay loud"
"He's right, Sawamura," Maezono grunted from the other side of the bench, wiping his brow with a sigh. "It's too hot for this today. Just give it a rest."
"Yeah," another voice muttered from the back. "Our heads already ache.”
Eijun looked around the dugout. He looked at Kuramochi, but his roommate was looking down at his cleats, too tired to engage. He looked toward the coaches, but no one looked back. Nobody smiled. Nobody laughed. They just looked annoyed.
The word echoed in Eijun’s chest, sharp and sudden. Exhausting. He thought of all the times he had bounced back from the yips, all the times he had yelled until his throat was raw just to keep the dugout from falling into despair when Furuya was struggling. He thought his loudness was his gift to the team, his way of saying he was supporting them and that they were not alone.
They didn't see it as support. They saw it as annoying…huh?
Slowly, Eijun’s mouth closed. The bright, animated expression on his face faded, smoothing out into something entirely blank. It was a face none of them had ever seen on him before.
"Understood," Eijun said.
His voice wasn't loud. It wasn't even a whisper. It was just a flat, quiet, polite tone. It was the kind of voice you use with strangers;oddly polite.
He walked over to his equipment bag in the corner, his movements entirely silent. He unstrapped his shin guards, packed his glove, and zipped the bag shut without making a single sound. When he walked out of the dugout toward the bathhouse, he didn't drag his feet or stomp. He just slipped away like a shadow.
Miyuki finally looked up from under his towel, his brow furrowing as he stared at the empty doorway. The dugout was perfectly quiet now. It was exactly what he had asked for.
But for some reason, the silence felt a thousand times heavier than Eijun’s shouting ever did