WON'T TURN BACK, miyuki kazuya

chapter 6

"The truth is," he continues. "Even I had some things to figure out. Baseball . . . is the same no matter where you go. That is true. But the culture, the people who play it, the people who watch it — that is different. It was a learning curve but we got it eventually."

You can only imagine. Culturally speaking on a whole, the US and Japan are very different. Respectively individualist and collectivistic, you have no doubts those values shape the sport, the interactions on the team, on the diamond.

"Now . . . for the first time since we graduated high school, we are playing together. And I'm not that great with words but . . . being here together with him means more to me than I could ever manage to say."

He may not be great with words but he conveys his message perfectly. You know exactly what he is talking about. If not just from knowing Eijun, too, then the real feeling in his voice, this warm conviction; win or lose, he is happy to be here, catching for him. You know Eijun feels the same.

"So . . . coming here and realizing the two of you were . . . closer than I had originally thought, well, it was . . . surprising. Not that that justifies anything but . . . you know."

Ah.

You do know.

You think, perhaps, this is just a natural side effect of not seeing each other face-to-face. Eijun never failed to emphasize Miyuki's importance in his life. You knew what you were walking into when Miyuki was traded. For him, however, knowing that on the worst of days, Eijun is a terrible texter . . . Miyuki knew of you, knew the two of you were good friends, but it seemed that the true depth of your relationship with Eijun was inadvertently overlooked, purely because of the shortcomings of the medium used. So, it's just like he said. He got here and he was surprised. And his surprise led to some defensiveness, some feelings of insecurity. He may deny that but you know because he immediately sought to point out the things that would supposedly make his relationship with Eijun superior to yours.

And you, feeling off-kilter at the sudden question that maybe this was a competition, only responded in kind, feeding the cycle.

"We are complete idiots," you state.

"Oh, definitely."

The two of you look at each other for another minute and you can't help it.

You start laughing.

Then Miyuki starts laughing.

It becomes one of those endless loops, where looking at each other makes the both of you laugh harder.

By the end of it, your back aches and you're wiping away the tears from your eyes, desperately trying to catch your breath. Miyuki is in a similar state, slumped against one of the boxes, pushing his glasses up to his head to clear away the tears in his eyes.

"See?" you say breathlessly. "We are more than capable of getting along."

He snickers again. "I don't disagree with you. Some of the stuff you pulled was, I hate to say it, impressive. Like that trick with my coffee the other day."

You giggle. "I'm glad you think so, too."

"Seriously. I mean, you didn't even know if I'd notice it was decaf."

You shrugged, smiling. "Yeah, but I'd know. That was satisfying enough for me. And you ended up noticing anyway, so, win-win."

"I couldn't really tell," he confesses. "But I just had a feeling. I knew it couldn't be that simple."

"Why not?"

"Because if it was me, it wouldn't be."

Coming from him, that's some serious praise. You don't say that, though, lest he thinks you care about his praise . . .