Title: standing in the weeds Ship/Character: Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun - unrequited ; Miyuki Kazuya & Sawamura Eijun Fandom: Daiya no Ace Major Tags: none Other Tags: music references b/c the song you linked was SO interesting, drifting apart, last game Word Count: 417 Remix Permission:See Permissions Sheet
thank you for introducing me to this song! the dynamics were SO interesting, the almost-music-major in me was geeking out! <3 <3 <3
***
Crouching sixty feet, six inches away from someone never used to feel quite so long.
Well, Miyuki’s never had the best eyesight - even in middle school, he’d sported the always fashionable prescription-sunglasses-over-contacts-combo, but once he’d gotten both of those for himself, reading expressions halfway across the infield never gave him much trouble. Especially when it came to someone as… transparent, as Sawamura Eijun.
Now that they’re fighting on the same stage for what could be the last time - the last inning playing alongside Sawamura, ever - Miyuki can’t help but wonder what he’d done to turn the once transparent Sawamura Eijun into an inscrutable monster.
Sawamura winds up, and sends a pitch down and in. Miyuki catches it, of course, it’s what he’d called for moments ago. The batter swings, ends up stumbling, and curses.
Sounds about right, Miyuki thinks, smirking to himself as he sends the pitch back. He’s still completely unpredictable. Your team’s lost its fighting chance.
Miyuki dropped out of music classes all too long ago - way back when once he’d realized the baseball-shaped hole in his heart - yet he can’t help but think Sawamura’s current pitching style feels more like a series of sforzandos and subito pianos than crescendos and diminuendos.
Sawamura’s pitches are always crashing, always burning. His unpredictability made him unreliable in his first year, but developing confidence has since changed that. He’s fully harnessed every pitch in his arsenal, and with Miyuki’s pitch-calling, they’re sending them out in combinations their opponents can’t even begin to guess.
But while Sawamura may not object to Miyuki’s signs, it doesn’t take a tactical genius to realize that their combination wasn’t what it once was. One day, they’d bantered as they always did; the next, Sawamura’s back was metaphorically turned. Their performance on the field hasn’t changed since then, but… damn, if part of Miyuki doesn’t miss something he never realized he’d had.
There was once a time when Miyuki thought he and Sawamura had… had something, together. That they’d made a good team - good enough of one to consider playing alongside each other again. Something about it had felt so… right, somehow.
That was long ago, of course - back when Sawamura had been within Miyuki’s grasp.
And now - Miyuki needs to accept that Sawamura will do the rest of his growing on his own.
So he signs for another pitch, knowing full well it could be their last.
FILL: Team Seijoh Third Years, T
Ship/Character: Miyuki Kazuya/Sawamura Eijun - unrequited ; Miyuki Kazuya & Sawamura Eijun
Fandom: Daiya no Ace
Major Tags: none
Other Tags: music references b/c the song you linked was SO interesting, drifting apart, last game
Word Count: 417
Remix Permission: See Permissions Sheet
thank you for introducing me to this song! the dynamics were SO interesting, the almost-music-major in me was geeking out! <3 <3 <3
***
Crouching sixty feet, six inches away from someone never used to feel quite so long.
Well, Miyuki’s never had the best eyesight - even in middle school, he’d sported the always fashionable prescription-sunglasses-over-contacts-combo, but once he’d gotten both of those for himself, reading expressions halfway across the infield never gave him much trouble. Especially when it came to someone as… transparent, as Sawamura Eijun.
Now that they’re fighting on the same stage for what could be the last time - the last inning playing alongside Sawamura, ever - Miyuki can’t help but wonder what he’d done to turn the once transparent Sawamura Eijun into an inscrutable monster.
Sawamura winds up, and sends a pitch down and in. Miyuki catches it, of course, it’s what he’d called for moments ago. The batter swings, ends up stumbling, and curses.
Sounds about right, Miyuki thinks, smirking to himself as he sends the pitch back. He’s still completely unpredictable. Your team’s lost its fighting chance.
Miyuki dropped out of music classes all too long ago - way back when once he’d realized the baseball-shaped hole in his heart - yet he can’t help but think Sawamura’s current pitching style feels more like a series of sforzandos and subito pianos than crescendos and diminuendos.
Sawamura’s pitches are always crashing, always burning. His unpredictability made him unreliable in his first year, but developing confidence has since changed that. He’s fully harnessed every pitch in his arsenal, and with Miyuki’s pitch-calling, they’re sending them out in combinations their opponents can’t even begin to guess.
But while Sawamura may not object to Miyuki’s signs, it doesn’t take a tactical genius to realize that their combination wasn’t what it once was. One day, they’d bantered as they always did; the next, Sawamura’s back was metaphorically turned. Their performance on the field hasn’t changed since then, but… damn, if part of Miyuki doesn’t miss something he never realized he’d had.
There was once a time when Miyuki thought he and Sawamura had… had something, together. That they’d made a good team - good enough of one to consider playing alongside each other again. Something about it had felt so… right, somehow.
That was long ago, of course - back when Sawamura had been within Miyuki’s grasp.
And now - Miyuki needs to accept that Sawamura will do the rest of his growing on his own.
So he signs for another pitch, knowing full well it could be their last.