04:

Wolfram had woken up that morning with a pounding headache. Unfortunately, it was due to him falling off the bed since his sleeping habits could not be considered…normal. Conrad had once made the mistake of sleeping with him when he was much younger (Wolfram had been having some bad dreams back then) and had woken up the next day with enough bruises to last him a lifetime. The blond slept like a windmill and could just about rival any acrobat with the positions he managed to twist his body into every night.

Wolfram had come shuffling into the kitchen, still dressed in his pink nightgown with a hand rubbing his eye and the other holding on to a rather large teddy bear.

“Good morning, Wolfram,” Conrad greeted cheerfully as he poured out two cups of coffee. “How are you feeling…?”

“Aspirin,” came the mumbled response. “I’m all out.”

“Do you guzzle them down?” Conrad asked in concern. “I thought you just had a bottle…?”

“Are you going to show it to me or not? Never mind, I’ll find it myself.”

Conrad winced as he listened to his bathroom being ransacked. Sighing softly to himself, he began to make breakfast – a combination of scrambled eggs and buttermilk pancakes which were Wolfram’s favorites. As he sat waiting for his brother to get ready – Wolfram had eventually shuffled out of Conrad’s bedroom, waving the red box over his head before disappearing into his own room with a slam of his door – Conrad mused over the recent events of the last few days.

For one thing, Wolfram's sullen moods were becoming worse. He had always known the blond wasn’t a morning person but Wolfram usually became more agreeable after a hearty meal. However, the last three days had told a different story. Wolfram barely finished his meals and he sometimes had a dazed or glazed look in his eyes. It was as if the blond was no longer in the room with him but somewhere far from where Conrad could ever hope to reach. There had been no more drowning incidents in the bathroom and he doubted the blond had even sat in the bathtub since then. On some nights, Conrad had been woken from sleep by Wolfram’s sudden cries of distress or more ‘personal’ sounds that he was sure the blond had not meant for anyone to hear. Ah, and there was the name Wolfram kept muttering in his sleep…Yuuka? Yuu…Yuuri?

“Maybe he’s being bullied in school?” he asked to no one in particular, although Conrad doubted that very much. Wolfram was no weakling and could hold his own in a fight. In fact, the very idea of seeing his brother at anyone’s mercy was ludicrous. The Wolfram he knew would rather swallow a bowl of hot coals than admit defeat.

“What are you mumbling to yourself for?”

Conrad lifted his gaze to stare at his uniform-clad brother with a small smile of approval. “You look like you’re ready to play some ball, Wolfram. Are you excited?”

The blond shrugged and eyed the plate of food set for him. He made a face, feeling his stomach give an uneasy lurch at the thought of eating anything. He didn’t want to admit that he was feeling extremely nervous about the try-outs and would have rather died than told that to Conrad.
“You’ve got to eat something,” Conrad advised softly, watching the conflicting emotions dance across his brother’s face. “It’s no good if you end up fainting on the baseball field…”

“I’ll be fine,” Wolfram muttered as he sat down and began to pick through the eggs slowly. “What’s the worse that could happen? It will just be a bunch of guys I’ll have to compete against. No big deal. Everything will be just fine.”




And now staring into those dark eyes across the field, Wolfram figured he had spoken way too soon. Nothing was going to be fine, not with that boy hanging around here with him! Just what in the world was a guy like Yuuri doing here anyway?! And why wouldn’t his stomach stop feeling so queasy? Why did he feel lightheaded and how could he explain the sudden quickening of his heartbeat?

“Shit….!”

“Are you okay, Wolfram?” Conrad asked with concern as he noticed his brother’s red-faced visage. “Is it getting too hot in here for you? Perhaps you should go sit with Gwendal in the suite…”

“I’m okay,” Wolfram replied quickly. He tugged his baseball cap even lower, effectively hiding his eyes from any curious gaze. “I’ll be right back. I have to go…

Get some fresh air!

“…to the restroom.”

“Ah okay, but don’t forget that the registration is beginning in a few minutes. You might want to get there on time.”

Giving a low grunt of understanding, Wolfram shoved his way through the throng of people, desperately needing to escape the heat of Yuuri’s gaze which still seemed to be trained on him.




Is he still looking at me?!

Yuuri shielded his eyes with his baseball cap, hoping it wasn’t true and yet knowing that Wolfram’s intense gaze was fixed on him. He could feel his skin prickle with awareness and a now familiar pleasurable warmth coursing down his body as he stumbled through the throng of people in hopes of escaping that penetrating stare.

You’re just one big coward, aren’t you Shibuya?

Yuuri froze at the sound of the voice, wondering if Murata had said that. But a quick glance over his shoulder revealed that his friend was still waiting by the lower bleachers and hadn’t even noticed his disappearance. He looked at the other players waiting and neither looked like they had been addressing him either.

I’m going crazy, he thought as he began to walk faster. Now, I’m hearing voices!

Maybe if you stopped being such a coward, Shibuya.

“Shut up! Shut up! Stop talking to me!” He knew whose voice it was now. It was the dark-haired man in his dreams, the one with the confident smirk and knowing eyes, the one who had shown him what real lovers could do. He flushed and slapped his hands over his ears as if hoping it would drown out the voice, but even he knew it was going to be a wasted effort.

I am you and you are me.

“No, no, no, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” People were beginning to stare at him as he ran towards the restroom area. Yuuri was sure he looked like a crazed man, what with arguing with himself and all.

You are me, Shibuya! The Demon King! Just accept it and stop being such a coward!

“I am NOT a Demon King!” he roared and this time, he really got everyone’s attention including the entourage of important game officials who were making their way down to the field. Yuuri removed his hands from his ears, lowered his gaze and bowed in respect, his entire being thrumming with an embarrassment and humiliation he could not even begin to explain.

“Hmm, the stress must be getting to more players than we thought,” one of the officials mumbled as they walked past the flustered teen. “Let’s get this started with before some other person decides to go insane.”

Yuuri prayed for the ground to open and swallow him whole. Even though he had no real intentions of using the restroom, he could feel his bladder reaching its bursting point.

“ALL PLAYERS MOVE TO THE REGISTRATION AREAS, PLEASE. ALL PLAYERS MOVE TO THE REGISTRATION AREAS, PLEASE. THANK YOU!”

The loud announcement over the speakers got Yuuri’s feet moving again and he all but ran into the (thankfully) not so crowded men’s room. As he dashed into a stall, the one right next to him opened and Wolfram walked out with a light frown of disgust on his features. He had heard the announcement and would have to make his way to the registration booth to get himself signed up. He walked up to the sink and began to wash his hands. He lifted his head to look at his reflection, noticing two boys from his school whispering to themselves behind him. Rolling his eyes in disbelief, Wolfram dried his hands and left the room with a light snort of derision as he walked past the duo.

However, once he stepped outside, he found himself staring into a pair of curious dark eyes which seemed huge behind the glasses.

“Von Bielefeld?”

“…yes…?”

“Murata Ken!” came the enthusiastic greeting as Murata held out his hand to pump Wolfram’s unresisting one in a handshake. “I’m the manager of the Lion Dandies. You played against us two weeks ago for the regional championships?”

Wolfram tried to place the grinning boy’s face but all he could see (and much to his chagrin) was Yuuri’s countenance. In fact, Wolfram was sure he couldn’t remember anyone else on the Lion Dandies’ team besides Yuuri!

Flushing in embarrassment at this thought, he settled for a non-committal ‘Ah’ as a response.

But Murata was not to be deterred. “Shibuya Yuuri’s here too!”

“I know…” He stopped himself from saying anymore but Wolfram knew the damage had been done. Now, this hyperactive manager was going to think he had been looking out for Yuuri all this time.

Murata hid a knowing smirk but nodded all the same. “Yes, indeed. He’s the catcher for our team and a fine one too. Oh, here he is now. Shibuya! Over here!”

“Ah, I think I had best be going,” Wolfram began quickly. “It’s almost time for the registrations to start…”

“Don’t be silly,” Murata interrupted as he all but dragged Wolfram after him. “Shibuya! Look over here!”

Yuuri groaned at the sight of his loud friend, wishing Murata would at least have the decency to stop shouting. “Murata, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be waiting for me…”

The words died on his lips as his gaze fell on the boy attached to his friend’s arm. He couldn’t see the boy’s eyes but it still didn’t stop Yuuri from taking a step backwards as if he had been struck a blow.

If he looks at me…I swear if he looks at me…I’ll be forced to remember everything again. I don’t know why but if we are together…he’ll know what I know…we’ll feel it...this time…together…

I just…

Can’t…

Look!


“Shibuya,” Murata was saying, hardly aware of the combined thoughts of the two boys. “Von Bielefeld is competing as well. So who knows? You two might end up being on the same team…”

“Over my dead body,” Wolfram hissed and with a fierce yank, released himself from Murata’s grip. The very thought of being on the same training camp team with Yuuri was too much to bear. “Now if you’ll both excuse me, I have to get myself ready.”

He spun on his heels and walked away, leaving both boys to stare after him in bemusement (Murata) and slight irritation (Yuuri).

“Definitely not Mr. Personality, is he?” Murata mused. “But I could have sworn he was shaking while standing next to me…as if he had a cold or something. Do you think he might be coming down with the flu, Shibuya? Shibuya?”

“Hmm?” Murata blinked at the distracted response and noticed that Yuuri was still staring after Wolfram even though the blond had made his way back to the field and towards his waiting brown-haired companion. “What is it, Murata?”

“Nothing,” came the enigmatic response as the bespectacled boy frowned in thought. “Nothing at all. Come on. Let’s go.”




Gwendal crossed his legs, his fingers forming a tent beneath his jaw as he watched the proceedings on the field below from the comfort of his private suite. About five large TV monitors had been mounted around the white-washed walls, each displaying the various sections of the fields where each try-out was being carried out. Since they were so many entries, they had been forced to divide the players in this manner. Five sections had been created, with several coaches and team managers assigned to each group to judge the players. On Monitor Number 1 was the section which had Wolfram in it. Gwendal stared intently at the screen, wondering (and for the umpteenth time) if it had been a good idea to let Wolfram have his way.

But he’s got to learn that things aren’t going to be easy for him all the time, he thought with a heavy sigh. I think I’ve been spoiling him too much.

The door to the suite opened and Gwendal frowned at the disturbance. He had specifically warned everyone to leave him in peace until the event was over. However, the familiar scent of his younger brother assailed his senses and he allowed himself to relax again.

“How’s he doing?” he asked without looking around as Conrad sat on a chair beside him.

“He said he was fine…as usual,” Conrad replied as they both watched the screen. Wolfram’s number had been called. “But he’s not looking too well, if you ask me. He seems distracted and almost nervous.”

“It’s natural to feel nervous,” Gwendal said calmly, but his fingers were beginning to tap his chin in a restless motion. “He’s got to compete with almost a thousand men.”

“Yes, but this is a different kind of nervousness,” Conrad explained, his brows drawn together in a frown. “I can’t explain it but it seems like he’s…in awe of someone.”

Gwendal blinked in surprise. “Wolfram? In awe of someone? Are you sure about this?”

“I don’t know…”

“There’s no one in the field half as good as he is,” Gwendal interrupted curtly. “You trained him for crying out loud. He’s a genius. You said it yourself.”

“Yes, but I never said I was the best coach in the world,” Conrad explained with a small smile. “I can only do so much for Wolfram. The rest is up to him.”

“In awe of someone,” Gwendal muttered to himself. He glared at the other monitors, looking at faces, trying to see the person who could be responsible for creating such an emotion in his brother. But he could see no one that even looked remotely intimidating…

“There!” Conrad cried out as he pointed towards Monitor Number 1. “Look…look at the direction Wolfram’s been staring at every once in a while. Do you think you can follow his gaze?”

Gwendal leaned closer, his eyes narrowed as he struggled to follow the blond’s gaze. It was a bit hard negotiating such a thing through a television screen but sure enough (and with the help of Conrad’s finger tracing the ‘path’ of the stare) it came to rest upon an unassuming dark-haired boy in a Lion Dandies baseball hat and uniform.

“Him?” Gwendal asked with disdain in his tone. “That’s the boy Wolfram is afraid of? Who the hell is he?”

“I don’t think he’s afraid per se,” Conrad said, not exactly sure of how to explain the gut feeling he had. He rubbed his chin and continued to stare at the back of Yuuri’s head. “And his name is…I’m not really sure either.”

“I’ll call Dorcas,” Gwendal said curtly as he reached for a phone beside him. He punched a few numbers and waited impatiently. As soon as a voice was heard, he barked into it. “Dorcas! Find out who the boy is in the number 13 jersey for the Lion Dandies. He’s in Section 1 with Wolfram.” A few more impatient taps on the armrest and soon Gwendal was nodding, his frown becoming one of bemusement. “That’s it? Yes. That is all. Thank you.”

He hung up the phone and leaned back on the chair. Conrad waited for him to say something and when he saw that Gwendal had no plans to speak anytime soon, he finally asked with slight impatience in his tone.

“Well? Who is he?”

“Shibuya Yuuri,” Gwendal replied slowly as he continued to watch the television screen before him. “A third year student at Fujiwara High School and a catcher for the Lion Dandies – his school baseball team….and that’s it. Nothing extraordinary about him.”

“Yuuri…Yuuri…” Conrad sat back heavily on his chair. It was the same name he had heard Wolfram muttering in his sleep at night. Who was this boy and what did he mean to his brother?

“We should keep an eye on him all the same,” Conrad suggested with a frown on his visage. “He might seem ordinary but I think that boy has got something special - something that only Wolfram can see.”




Wolfram walked to the plate as his name was called and took a much needed breath. He tried to shake off the ‘meeting’ with Yuuri (his King) and forced himself to concentrate.

“Remember,” the coach was saying to him. “All you have to do is hit the ball as hard as you can, okay?”

He nodded in understanding and tipped his hat in salutation to the pitcher – the number one man for the Royals team – Maiku Kurtz. So far, the older man had sent many entrants swinging like newborn infants. No one had been able to get a direct hit off Kurtz and Wolfram thought it a bit unfair that they would choose someone so tough as a pitcher. However, this was no time to feel sorry for others. He had his own battles to fight.

“Ready?” Kurtz called out from the mound and at Wolfram’s nod, he swung his arms over his head, lifted his left leg and threw the ball as hard as he could towards the sissy-looking blond.

/Remember to keep your eye on the ball. Your head steady, shoulders straight and your stance should be moving in and towards the plate. Then just as the ball seems to be dipping towards the ground, you strike!/

And strike he did.




Wow! Just…wow!

Yuuri (as well as everyone else in the stadium it seemed) watched the ball’s amazing trajectory through the air before it disappeared somewhere in the top bleachers at the opposite end of the stadium. It wasn’t the first homerun hit today but it was definitely the most powerful and highest one yet!

Yuuri was officially in love...

…with Wolfram’s swing! He added quickly, flushing as he was sure he could hear someone chuckling faintly in his mind.

Spontaneous applause broke out afterwards and Yuuri was reluctant to join even though Murata was all but forcing him to do so…from his position in the bleachers (all spectators were no longer allowed on the field after all).

“SHIBUYA YUURI!” The announcer bellowed and Yuuri winced. How could he hope to top that performance?

“Good luck, Shibuya!” Murata yelled and Yuuri fought the urge to flip his friend the finger. He clutched his bat tightly and walked up to the plate, swallowing tightly as he noticed who was approaching. He braced himself for another insult but all he received was a look that seemed to go right through him before the blond lowered his hat again.

“You’re going to need all the luck you can get,” Wolfram suddenly said as Yuuri was just about to release a sigh of relief. “I doubt a wimp like you can even hit a bunt into the infield.”

You will pay for your insolence! You seem to forget who your king is, my dear Wolfram.

Both boys gasped and stood stock still as if rooted to the ground. Wolfram could feel his cheeks growing hot at the reprimand while Yuuri was beginning to shake his head slowly.

“I didn’t…it wasn’t me…” He heard it! He actually heard it!

Wolfram finally found his voice. “You are not my king,” he hissed coldly, even though he looked clearly shaken.

“Shibuya Yuuri!” The announcer called out again.

“Wolfram…” Yuuri began slowly, not sure why he felt the utmost need to explain the situation to the angry blond. “I swear it wasn’t…”

“Go to the plate,” Wolfram commanded quietly, his eyes now narrowed and filled with daring. “And if you can hit a homerun, then maybe…just maybe I’ll give you the time of day, Shibuya Yuuri.”




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