Ship/Character: Miyuki Kazuya Fandom: Daiya no Ace Major Tags: None Other Tags: anxiety, a little angst, KuraMiyu if you squint (friendship), character study Word Count: 597 Remix Permission: granted
Probably cliche, but here's my take!
***
No one ever asked him if he wanted to be captain. It just sort of happened. One day, he was minding his own business, worrying a little about the first year pitchers, and then he was being called into the coaching office. And when he got there, they dropped the bomb shell – that Yuki had recommended him for the new captain.
It was unfathomable to him. He didn’t understand what he’d done to get that kind of recognition. He certainly didn’t want it. He just wanted to play baseball – wanted pitchers to listen to him and have the game play out exactly the way he wanted it. Now, these things didn’t happen every time, but enough to keep him happy. He got to be the puppet master of the team and that worked for him.
Being named captain dragged him into the light. It made him the center of attention and he hated that. It was bad enough that he’d been thrust into the limelight in first year when Chris had gotten hurt. That was a sour memory. He’d wanted to fight for his position, overcome the boy he looked up to in a fair way. Instead, like the captainship, he’d had the role of starting catcher thrust on him nearly the moment he got to Seidou.
At least then he’d had some notion of what he was supposed to do. He knew how to be a catcher, knew how to pull strings and lead the game. That was easy. But this… this was something else. He had no idea how to be a captain, or how to bear the weight of the responsibility that would be expected of him. He didn’t know how to be inspirational or even be a good sounding board the team.
He didn’t particularly like people, and though he was fonder of some of his teammates specifically, he still felt like an outsider. He was disconnected, in part on purpose, and he absolutely knew it. What had Yuki seen in him? For that matter, what had Kataoka? He was the last person that should be counted on to tie a team together.
Kuramochi would have been a better choice. He was loud and charismatic and everyone liked him. They didn’t give him side glares about how easy he’d made it to the team. They didn’t resent him for being some kind of genius, even though he wasn’t. He laughed and other people laughed too. When Miyuki laughed people thought he was up to something, that he was teasing, and this too was by designed. He didn’t want people to get close. How could he stay distant if he was supposed to lead everyone?
No one asked if he wanted to be captain, or even asked what he thought about it, but in the end, Miyuki couldn’t say no. There was too much pride in Kataoka’s eyes as he announced it to the team. Not accepting felt like failure at that point.
So he sucked it up, smiled sheepishly, well aware of the way his cheeks turned pink, and led them on the warm up run, hiding the fact that his knees shook in terror and he was sure his heart was in his throat. The only reason he didn’t run screaming back to his room besides Kataoka’s pride, was the fact that he knew Kuramochi was behind him. Kuramochi was his vice-captain, he’d have his back. Mochi who pushed and challenged him, but who always listened and always cared.
It didn’t seem quite so scary the moment he heard that distinctive cackle.
FILL: Team Daiya, G
Fandom: Daiya no Ace
Major Tags: None
Other Tags: anxiety, a little angst, KuraMiyu if you squint (friendship), character study
Word Count: 597
Remix Permission: granted
Probably cliche, but here's my take!
***
No one ever asked him if he wanted to be captain. It just sort of happened. One day, he was minding his own business, worrying a little about the first year pitchers, and then he was being called into the coaching office. And when he got there, they dropped the bomb shell – that Yuki had recommended him for the new captain.
It was unfathomable to him. He didn’t understand what he’d done to get that kind of recognition. He certainly didn’t want it. He just wanted to play baseball – wanted pitchers to listen to him and have the game play out exactly the way he wanted it. Now, these things didn’t happen every time, but enough to keep him happy. He got to be the puppet master of the team and that worked for him.
Being named captain dragged him into the light. It made him the center of attention and he hated that. It was bad enough that he’d been thrust into the limelight in first year when Chris had gotten hurt. That was a sour memory. He’d wanted to fight for his position, overcome the boy he looked up to in a fair way. Instead, like the captainship, he’d had the role of starting catcher thrust on him nearly the moment he got to Seidou.
At least then he’d had some notion of what he was supposed to do. He knew how to be a catcher, knew how to pull strings and lead the game. That was easy. But this… this was something else. He had no idea how to be a captain, or how to bear the weight of the responsibility that would be expected of him. He didn’t know how to be inspirational or even be a good sounding board the team.
He didn’t particularly like people, and though he was fonder of some of his teammates specifically, he still felt like an outsider. He was disconnected, in part on purpose, and he absolutely knew it. What had Yuki seen in him? For that matter, what had Kataoka? He was the last person that should be counted on to tie a team together.
Kuramochi would have been a better choice. He was loud and charismatic and everyone liked him. They didn’t give him side glares about how easy he’d made it to the team. They didn’t resent him for being some kind of genius, even though he wasn’t. He laughed and other people laughed too. When Miyuki laughed people thought he was up to something, that he was teasing, and this too was by designed. He didn’t want people to get close. How could he stay distant if he was supposed to lead everyone?
No one asked if he wanted to be captain, or even asked what he thought about it, but in the end, Miyuki couldn’t say no. There was too much pride in Kataoka’s eyes as he announced it to the team. Not accepting felt like failure at that point.
So he sucked it up, smiled sheepishly, well aware of the way his cheeks turned pink, and led them on the warm up run, hiding the fact that his knees shook in terror and he was sure his heart was in his throat. The only reason he didn’t run screaming back to his room besides Kataoka’s pride, was the fact that he knew Kuramochi was behind him. Kuramochi was his vice-captain, he’d have his back. Mochi who pushed and challenged him, but who always listened and always cared.
It didn’t seem quite so scary the moment he heard that distinctive cackle.