#ultimately i think furuya would need to be made to feel important by his SO

[potahun]

my own take is that ultimately, furuya is an excellent significant other for akai, because akai men like to be manhandled a bit and pushed around, and oh man, furuya will be so happy to push him around, but is akai the best match for furuya? based on canon akai, i dont know

[kierkegaardff-blog]

The Trajectory of Perfection (6/6)

Summary: The final months before graduation, Miyuki and Mei stumble through misunderstandings, frustrations, and the push and pull of their relationship, all in pursuit of perfection. [6 chapters]

Chapter 6 under the cut. AO3 link here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434219/chapters/30788907

Mei, I think we should talk. Mei had almost thrown his phone in surprise when he saw the text, and Miyuki’s name on his phone, two nights before graduation day.

Mei contemplated punishing him, and not answering. Then Kazuya would know what it felt like, to always be the one reaching out, and meeting nothing but distance, and emptiness. How lonely that felt.

But the next text that came obliterated that plan. I’m outside your dorm.

Mei rushed to his window, and true enough, saw Miyuki standing there, below.

He nearly tripped over the boxes strewn in his room in his haste to get downstairs and outside.

***

“What the hell, Kazuya?”

Miyuki only grinned at his greeting. “Nice to see you too, Mei.”

Despite everything that had happened between them, the sight of Kazuya’s grin pulled a responding grin out of Mei.

“Finally came to your senses and decided you can’t live without me in your life?” It took everything Mei had not to flush at his own nerve, saying those words.

Miyuki had laughed, but hadn’t quite met Mei’s eyes, in response to the comment.

Despite his confident tone, Mei felt his stomach sinking. He could see it coming, the rejection, the bitterness rising in his throat. It burned.

“Mei,” Miyuki began. “I’m going to university.”

Mei had pretty much expected that outcome, but the news still gave a punch to his gut. It hurt.

“Let me try to explain,” for the first time Mei had known him, Miyuki actually looked sincere, instead of hiding under barbs and cheek, to him. “Please be patient with me.”

Miyuki was baring his vulnerability, and all Mei could do was stare at his shoes. To his horror, he found himself fighting the tears welling in his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want to be in a battery with you,” Miyuki was being uncharacteristically gentle, but it somehow felt worse, for Mei.

“I agree, we make a good team. Maybe even a great one,” Miyuki continued.

Mei bit his cheek from protesting that Miyuki still didn’t get it, despite it all, despite the Japan-USA match, despite their years of knowing one another’s play style. They were not one of many great teams. They were the only one. The ultimate team.

“You’re an amazing pitcher, Mei,” Miyuki said. Heartbreakingly sincere. “I think you’ll be great, even without me.”

At this point, Mei had to interrupt. “Why?” To his horror, the word came out shaky.

“I need more time,” Miyuki answered, firmly. “Everything is moving too fast. I think university will be good for me to polish my playing style, and I can decide better after that.”

“You can polish your playing style going pro - what better way is there?” Mei bit out. Trying hard not to yell in frustration.

“I need to figure out other things beyond just baseball,” Miyuki said. His patience somehow pissed Mei off. It was as though he was acting like Mei was an unreasonable child, yet again.

And Mei wanted to respond like one, stamping his foot and demanding that there was nothing more important than baseball, in life. Wasn’t that one of the first things that they had agreed on, when they had first met as children?

“We’re not good for each other, Mei,” Miyuki said, so gently Mei felt like his heart was breaking all over again. It went unspoken, everything else Miyuki wanted to say: Maybe we’re good as a battery, but not for anything outside of baseball. We can’t be.

You want too many things that I can’t give.

“I’m sorry,” the more Miyuki spoke, the more it felt like Mei was under his blanket in his room again, all alone, everyone else a hundred miles away, “if you felt I led you on, by kissing you, during Koshien.”

Mei suddenly realised his fists were clenched, so tight the pain from his fingernails digging into his palms were finally breaking into his consciousness.

Miyuki was now looking at his feet. “M-maybe I do feel something for you, but I don’t think it’s the right time to explore that, right now.”

Energy was draining out of Mei. He felt very tired, all of a sudden.

“Maybe you’re right, Kazuya,” he sighed, dully.

Miyuki looked surprised, that he seemed to be taking it so well.

Then Mei straightened, and levelled a challenging gaze at Miyuki.

“I’m not going to apologize for anything, though,” Mei stated, forcing the imperiousness, the stubbornness in his voice.

Miyuki jerked, a frustrated grin lining his face. “Bastard…”

“Because,” Mei continued, ignoring that Miyuki had said anything. “I think you’re being stupid. You’re just so dense.”

A vein throbbed in Miyuki’s forehead. “Asshole, I express myself honestly to you and you respond with insults? It’s no wonder no one likes you.”

Mei continued as though Miyuki had not said anything. “It’s been six years and you still don’t understand that you won’t find another pitcher with who you could be the best catcher you can be. At Seidou, or at university. You’re fucking slow, Kazuya.”

Miyuki’s fists were clenched in the effort not to hit Mei. The sight somehow goaded Mei further, knowing he could get a rise out of Miyuki like this.

“And that goes for the other stuff, as well. You know,” Mei turned to the side, hiding his face, the tips of his ears glowing bright red. “The kissing and stuff,” he mumbled.

Suddenly, Miyuki doubled over. He was laughing. Mei couldn’t believe it. He had gone from frustrated, irritated, to this, all at once.

Mei sputtered. “W-what’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Miyuki finally stopped laughing, catching his breath. “Just that you always surprise me.” He smiled, fondly, at Mei. Mei’s heart skipped a beat.

“I-is that a good thing?” Mei asked, tentative despite all his efforts to project confidence and bluster.

“I don’t know,” Miyuki grinned. “I haven’t decided yet.” And, grin widening, “Like I said, I need more time.”

Then, Miyuki abruptly turned and started walking away. “Bye, Mei. I do wish you all the best, you know.”

He turned and flashing Mei a cheeky grin, “even if you are insufferable most times.”

Mei hadn’t been able to respond. His heart was beating too fast, too hard, in his chest.

***

Graduation was a blur, to Miyuki. Some fragments stood out, bright and clear, though.

A haze of his teammates piling on him, yelling for photos.

Sawamura’s tears; Miyuki had been too touched in that moment, to tease him for it, though Kuramochi more than made up for it. Miyuki made sure to bring it up every moment he could after that, though, enjoying the sputtering and loud denials.

Sawamura never disappointed. Miyuki knew he would be a great pitcher; his potential was not as blindingly flashy as Mei, but his had a steadiness, a consistency, that was heading towards pro league, Giants level, for sure.

He had tried his best to express it to him too, though Sawamura, as expected, had suspiciously asked if Miyuki wanted to extort something out of him; he was being too nice.

And Furuya - he had the nerve to tell Miyuki to wait for him at the pro leagues, because he would meet him there, and there he would give him pitches that were a trouble to catch. Miyuki had clapped him on the shoulder, told him to calm down that arrogant aura, and told him to focus on winning Koshien next year, first.

Watching them, Kuramochi had smirked knowingly at him, and said, “I suppose the talk with Chris-senpai was helpful.”

Miyuki had shaken his head at him, instead telling him not to miss their kouhai too much, knowing Kuramochi would shake his fist at him and tell him they were troublesome brats, anyway, and that his smirk was annoying as always, and that he had never been able to stand him.

Zono, sobbing openly as he hugged their kouhai, telling Miyuki frankly that he never liked him from the start, but he guessed Miyuki somehow grew on him over the years, and that he might even call them friends now.

Kawakami, smiling shyly, thanking Miyuki for his guidance throughout the years, that he had improved as a pitcher because of him, but that he hoped that Miyuki had learned something from him, too.   

In many ways, Miyuki thought, Mei was wrong; he was too selfish and bullheaded to realise that anyone but him could have helped Miyuki grow.

But Seidou had been perfect for Miyuki; Miyuki could never have become the catcher he became, the person he was now, if not for Seidou.

Mei did not realise it, but Seidou was helping Miyuki make sincere connections with people, express himself; closing the distance, the loneliness he always felt Mei wanted to have around everyone but the both of them.

It was not what Miyuki wanted; maybe that was what Mei meant, when he kept saying Miyuki didn’t get it. But in a sad, terrible way, Miyuki did get it; and it was not for him.

University, Miyuki hoped, would do the same for him, what Seidou did.

He only hoped Mei would eventually get there, too. Despite everything, Mei genuinely fascinated Miyuki - he got his attention, the way he did everyone that came across him; his drive, his motivation, to go for what he wanted, obstacles seeming to cease to exist under the blinding light of his talent.

It was both a flaw, and a strength; Mei’s overwhelming desire to be the best driving his ferocious talent, and isolating him from everyone else in his pursuit to the top. And his absolute belief that Miyuki belonged with him, in that lonely journey towards the dominance. Them against the world.

In the end, Miyuki had meant what he said; he didn’t think they were good for each other, at least not now.

But - who knew what would happen in the future. Miyuki hadn’t decided yet.  

After all, he needed more time.

***

Mei’s graduation was a haze of autographs, pictures with frenzied high school girls. Itsuki smiling sincerely at him and thanking him for his guidance. Akamatsu, vowing to continue his legacy at Inashiro.

Shirakawa, Carlos, Yamaoka, Yabe, all of them nodding at one another, at a high school baseball career well played, together. Clapping shoulders on one another’s backs, Shirakawa sniping at Mei for his fangirls clogging up the hallways, Carlos teasing him about not crying in front of his new Giants teammates, since pro players wouldn’t be as understanding as them.

Throughout it all, Mei had wanted to be in his room, all alone. He had felt unexpectedly tired. That was odd. Normally, he relished the adoration.

He wondered why that was. Perhaps, he was finally tired of people draping adoration on someone they barely knew.

But that couldn’t be the case. It was supposed to be easy, to be fun, being Narumiya Mei.

Mei never liked thinking, or worrying, too much - so he just forgot about it, and went over to Shirakawa’s room, demanding obnoxiously to play cards.

It was a good graduation.

After all, Mei had won all the card games. It was good to be king.

It was good to be a winner.