Notes:
Koshien -Annual National High School Baseball Tournament held every August in
Koshien Stadium, Japan.
16:
Unbeknownst to many, Shibuya Yuuri was a very superstitious young man. He was
wary of black cats and did his best to avoid them at any cost. He dared not
whistle at night for fear that a snake would appear from out of nowhere to bite
him, nor did he lie down immediately after eating for fear he’d turn into a
cow. He guessed he had Shouri to blame for making him so paranoid about such
things. His older brother had drilled the stories into his head whenever he had
the chance. Now that Yuuri thought of it, he wondered if Shouri hadn’t been having
fun at his expense. It was an unwritten law that older brothers were evil
creatures created to humiliate and terrorize their younger siblings, so Yuuri
couldn’t rule out that possibility.
However, having fears of superstitious beliefs paled in comparison to what he
was experiencing at the moment. Being cooped up in a hospital room for God
knows how long must have finally snapped the last few fragments of sanity he
had once held. Yuuri was sure that the doctors had pumped him full of sedatives
in the last few days since he kept drifting in and out of consciousness with no
real awareness of time passing by. He heard voices, low and sluggish, ebbing
and flowing each time he tried to make sense of whom they belonged to. He knew
of the nurses and doctors who made their daily rounds. He was also sure he had
seen his mother, father and brother at some point. Murata had shown up as well,
peering down at him from a million miles away…at least it seemed that way.
Several other people must have stopped by to see him, but all their faces
eventually blended into one, confusing his already muddled mind.
I’m beginning to hallucinate.
That wouldn’t be too far from the truth, all things considered, for he
sometimes wondered if his dreams and reality had become one. In some dreams, he
was taken back to the barn where he had gone to rescue Wolfram, only this time,
he had arrived too late to save his roommate. The fat man would be laughing in
triumph, standing over Wolfram’s prone and battered body while his features began
to slowly transform to a more familiar one. The fleshy cheeks would become
chiseled cheekbones. Those beady black eyes would become narrowed green slits
of determination and yet malice. That short greasy black hair would become a
light shade of brown, thick and luxurious upon the head of the now handsome
visage belonging to…
Yuuri gasped and opened his eyes, his breath shallow and rough as beads of cold
sweat dotted his flushed skin. He licked his lips and fell back to the pillows,
trying to steady his racing heartbeat. He’d had the dream several times before,
but this one had finally revealed the face of the man behind Wolfram’s brutal
death. It was a face he had seen many times before – in this life and in the
other one – a face that he had once considered full of goodness. It was a face
belonging to a man that he had once considered a hero.
He was embarrassed to find his cheeks wet, and with his good hand, he wiped the
tears away quickly. The simple motion caused him to wince as his left shoulder
(and his entire arm) throbbed with pain. He lowered his hand gingerly and
sighed, wondering just how much more he could take. He refused to think about
his baseball career, refused to believe that his playing days were over. He
stubbornly forced himself to focus on other things, one of which included the
recent apparitions of the demon king in the same room with him.
It was then that he decided he was beginning to go mad and that the drugs being
given to him caused such hallucinations. The first time it happened, Yuuri
assumed he was still dreaming – a dream which included a restless Maou pacing
the hospital room in agitation. He had forced himself to go back to sleep and
thought nothing of it the next day. However, after two nights of this in a row,
Yuuri finally realized that this was no dream after all (despite his intense
wishes for it to be). Somehow, the being within him had ‘escaped’ and rational
thinking, on how such a thing was possible, was slipping away fast.
“Are you awake now, Shibuya?” came the low voice. “You were crying in your
sleep.”
“This…” He tried to clear his throat. His voice sounded thick. “This isn’t a
dream…?”
“I should think not,” the Maou replied as he made himself comfortable on the
bed. The mattress dipped a little beneath his weight, which troubled Yuuri even
more. Was it possible that the Maou could manifest himself completely without
his help? Did this mean that the Maou was as free to roam as any normal human
being without being controlled?
“No to all of your questions,” the older man replied with a small smile, his
dark eyes peering into the wide ones before him. “Without you I am nothing,
Shibuya, which is why I cannot afford to have you dying on me…”
“I’m not dying,” Yuuri protested weakly. “I just have a broken shoulder…and
arm, that’s all.” His voice cracked at that and he lowered his lashes, now
painfully reminded of the enormity of the situation. Yes, he had a broken
shoulder and guess what Shibuya? a part of him taunted you just might
kiss off baseball forever.
I…I don’t care. As long as Wolfram’s okay…that’s all that matters to me…
Yes but it was quite a dumb move, wasn’t it, Shibuya? All you had to do was
push Wolfram aside and maybe kick the guy in the shin or something. You just
had to act the hero, didn’t you? Now look at what you have gotten in return!
You’ll never be able to throw another ball again! You’ll never be able to hit
again! You’ll just become another spectator and your dreams of going to Koshien
will be gone forever!
Stop it…
Oh and let’s not forget that while you’re still stuck here in bed, dear
Wolfram’s out there recovering from just a sprain! Hear that, Shibuya?! Just a
lousy sprain! He’s going to make it to the Minor Leagues while you’re still
stuck here in this hospital counting the days until you can go back home to
become a vegetable…
Stop it…stop it…STOP IT!
“An inner battle with oneself is perhaps the best at a time like this,” the
Maou said softly, causing Yuuri, who had squeezed his eyes shut during his
inner debate, to slowly open them again. He had almost forgotten about the
older man. “You cannot blame anyone for what happened, Shibuya. Yes, it is
regrettable that you are not yet strong enough to control my spirit, or else I
would have stopped the fool who hurt you. However, I should take the blame for
not finishing him off completely. Perhaps if I had not held back, none of this
would have happened.”
Yuuri shook his head slowly. “You saved us whether you want to admit it or not.
I just didn’t think through a proper plan before…”
“Who says a man has to think through anything while rescuing the one he loves?”
the Maou asked incredulously, watching as Yuuri’s cheeks flooded with color.
The boy began to protest. “I’m not in love…”
Unfortunately, the Maou wasn’t listening. “…your body reacts on its own. It
seems to move on its own accord. You do not have time to think of a suitable
plan of action. You go with your gut instinct and that was what you did,
Shibuya. It was an admirable feat, and believe me: Wolfram knows he is indebted
to you from now on. He owes you his life; he is now bound to you whether he
wants to be or not.”
Yuuri flushed at the words, his heartbeat an unsteady rhythm within his chest.
He swallowed tightly and tried to shake his head again, perhaps hoping he could
convince the Maou (and himself) that this whole ‘love-talk’ and ‘being bound’
was nothing but a figment of the older man’s imagination.
“Times have changed,” he began quietly. “And even though it would be nice to be
friends with Wolfram, I doubt it will go beyond that. Besides, look at me…” He
eyed the black sling with mild disgust. “I’m handicapped now.”
“Feeling sorry for yourself is the most pathetic thing you can do,” the Maou
replied coldly as he pinned a steady but unrepentant gaze upon the younger boy.
“I will not allow you to lie here and wallow in self misery, Shibuya!”
“Shsssh!” Yuuri said before he could control himself. He glanced towards the
door quickly. “Everyone will hear you!”
“No. I am still within you,” the Maou said with a small smirk as he rose to his
feet to pace the room again. “So if anyone were to step into the room, they’d
only see you arguing with yourself…and promptly assume you’ve gone insane.”
“Gee, thanks a lot.” Yuuri rolled his eyes and suddenly gasped as he felt a
chill fill his bones. He clutched the gray blanket tightly, staring at the
rigid figure of the Maou who seemed to be staring at something on the floor.
“What…?” he asked in a trembling and slightly breathless voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Makina,” came the icy reply from his counterpart. Yuuri sat up a bit more and
tried to crane his neck to see what had the Maou’s attention. Lying on the
floor was a magazine – Baseball Weekly – which had a picture of a grinning
Alford Makina in his Mariners uniform. The caption beneath his pearly whites
read ‘MVP of the year? Makina speaks about life, love and plans after
baseball.’
“That traitor!” The Maou roared in fury and Yuuri felt himself thrown back
against the pillows, his entire body taut with tension as his good hand
clenched and unclenched repeatedly. He tried to breathe, but the Maou’s anger
was suffocating him. He had never felt so much rage before and he feared that
it would kill him if it continued at this rate.
He shook his head rapidly, dark locks now damp with sweat and plastered against
his forehead as he fought against the transformation. He couldn’t allow the
Maou to take over now. He was still in too much pain and it seemed as if the
spirit was trying to crush him with his determination to take control.
/But…why now?! When we spoke about him on the train you never mentioned he
was… /
/Your excitement at the time overshadowed any rational thinking on my part. I
should have been able to put the pieces together. However, that is not
important, Shibuya. Now, that I know he is alive and well I must get to him! /
/No…wait…! /
/Let me out, Shibuya! I must find him! /
/What…what did he do to you?!/
/Can you tell me that you’ve not had dreams of him?! Can you tell me that you
have not seen that face and felt like you have seen him before?! Why were you
crying tonight, Shibuya?! Wasn’t it because of the pain he has caused you?! He
is a traitor and must be punished! /
/He hasn’t done anything! / Yuuri yelled. /He’s just a baseball player in this
world and whatever he did to you in the past can be forgiven, can’t it?!/
He fought back a cry as his broken arm throbbed with mind-numbing pain.
/It was thanks to him…we thought he was with us and yet…he betrayed us in
the end! Your typical sheep in wolf’s clothing! /
/Wolf in sheep’s clothing. / Yuuri suggested weakly, even though he doubted
that correcting the angry Maou was a good idea.
But just as quickly as he had become angry, the Maou seemed to calm down and
again manifested himself before Yuuri. There was a look of deep sadness in
those dark eyes, although a flicker of bitterness filled them for a moment.
“Perhaps it is best I tell you what happened, Shibuya,” the Maou began softly.
“Perhaps then you will understand the reason for my anger. You see, Alford
Makina was the son of Gilbert Makina, a great swordsman, who came from a long
line of heroes. Only they could wield what we called ‘The Holy Sword’, a
companion piece of sorts to my ‘Demon Sword’ or Morgif. We first met…”
Yuuri listened attentively as the Maou talked. Even as the sun began its
ascent, heralding a brand new day, neither seemed to notice. They were lost in
a world they had once ruled and as the Maou rattled off names of people Yuuri
knew in this time, the teenager was surprised to find that so many of them had
been reborn. The knowledge that his good friend, Murata, had been a Great Sage
was the biggest surprise of all. He definitely couldn’t see the somewhat goofy
boy in that role. However, as the story of Alford’s betrayal, the destruction
of Shin Makoku as well as the loss of his life, was finally revealed, Yuuri
could feel the tears welling in his eyes again. He cursed himself inwardly for
being so sentimental over something he hadn’t really experienced in person but
through the eyes and words of this spirit.
“So now you see,” the Maou said softly, his gaze drifting towards the window as
the sun’s rays bathed his skin in gold. “Now you understand why the traitor
must be punished, Shibuya.”
“But…I mean…and then what?” Yuuri asked quietly. He met the Maou’s sharp gaze
squarely, wiping his tears away quickly. “Even if you do get to meet Alford,
then what? I doubt he’ll be able to remember anything and punishing him isn’t
going to bring Shin Makoku back, is it? Perhaps he was controlled by someone else,
who knows? I believe that something must have happened to him to make him
change back then but… it doesn’t make him a bad person now.” He lowered his
gaze and bit his lower lip. “I don’t know about you but I don’t want to see
anyone hurting or suffering anymore. I believe we were reborn for a reason…to
start all over again... and I want it to be that way, don’t you? Wouldn’t you
like to see everyone trying to live in peace in this new world?”
For a long minute, the Maou said nothing, and Yuuri was beginning to think he
had made the older man upset again. But to his surprise, he felt the other move
closer to him and a gentle press of warm lips against his forehead. He flushed
darkly at the intimate gesture (although a part of him felt it odd that he was…well…kissing
himself in some way) and dared to lift his gaze to meet the darker one above
him.
“You haven’t changed a bit,” the Maou said softly with a small but warm smile.
“You still seek peace and unity amongst everyone even though they might be
enemies to you. Perhaps that is why you were so loved, Shibuya. You were indeed
a great ruler.”
Yuuri flushed again, not sure if he ought to thank the Maou, but as the
doorknob began to rattle softly, Yuuri knew that it was time for another day of
checkups, x-rays and visitors. At least he was more alert today and was sure he
would be able to recognize those who would show up to see him.
The Maou was beginning to fade away and before long, Yuuri could feel the
familiar rush of heat overwhelm him. He placed a hand against his chest and
closed his eyes as a small smile came to his lips.
/You’re not such a bad person to hang out with after all, / he said just
as the nurse walked in with a tray full of medication.
/Likewise, Shibuya, / came the amused reply. /Likewise. /
By visiting hours, Yuuri was as restless as he had ever been. Although he had
tried to convince the nurse that he was able to walk for more than five minutes
(at least they let him go to the bathroom on his own now), he was still advised
to remain in bed. His mother and father were the first to arrive. Jennifer all
but screamed in joy at seeing her boy finally awake and would have hugged him –
broken shoulder and all – if Shouma Shibuya hadn’t reminded her about their
son’s injury. Jennifer, who always prepared meals just in case, was more than
glad to share the bento lunches she had fixed for him this time around. She fed
him, much to Yuuri’s embarrassment, insisting he say ‘aaaah’ as if he was still
a baby. However, the food was delicious and Yuuri was glad for it. The
hospital’s food was beginning to taste like sawdust at this point. Finishing it
all, much to his mother’s delight, she grinned and promised to bring even more
food for him tomorrow.
Shouri finally arrived, claiming he was late due to some notes he had to turn
in at the university as well as having a few words with the doctor in charge of
Yuuri. According to him, Yuuri’s arm was still a long way from being a hundred
percent but there was no doubt it would heal someday. However, they were still
doubtful about his baseball career. Excessive throwing or hitting could
overwork the muscles and was not advisable for the weakened bones.
Yuuri accepted the news with a slow nod, aware that his family was watching him
intently. For a moment, he felt a dull rage within him. He wanted to scream at
them to stop staring at him like he was some freak show. So what if he couldn’t
play? What if his goddamn dreams were over?! They had no right to look at him
like that! He hated that look of pity! It made his skin crawl and he wished
they would just get the hell out of his room and leave him alone!
He opened his mouth to say something, when a nurse stuck her head into the room
with a sheepish smile on her pretty features. Her cheeks were flushed with
color and she seemed flustered.
“You have two more visitors,” she said and disappeared to allow the two men to
walk into the room. Yuuri’s breath caught in his throat as he saw who they were
and for a brief moment, panic settled in as he met the cool blue gaze. He could
still remember the man’s cold warning, so many weeks ago, regarding the
touching of his brother.
Oh, if you only knew just how much ‘touching’ we actually did…
“So this is the hero?” the light-haired man exclaimed. Jennifer, who had all
but squealed in delight at Gunter’s presence and attached herself to his arm,
finally released him with great reluctance. Yuuri felt his good hand clasped
within the famous model’s and he flushed in embarrassment as Gunter raised it
to his lips to kiss it gently.
“Ah, such bravery. Such display of strength in adversity,” the older man
crooned. “You truly are worthy of being thanked, Shibuya Yuuri.”
“Eh…than…thank you?” Yuuri stammered weakly, noticing that Gwendal was finally
done with his father and Shouri (who didn’t look too happy at the sight of the
newcomers, to be honest).
“Shibuya,” Gwendal began calmly as he reached out to clasp Yuuri’s hand in a
firm handshake. For a moment, he stared at the sling and seemed to wince before
managing what Yuuri assumed to be a smile. It looked more like a grimace.
“Words cannot begin to express how grateful I am to you for saving Wolfram’s
life…”
“Oh, it was no…nothing…”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gwendal interrupted curtly, and Yuuri figured it was no
use arguing with the older man. “What you have done…if it weren't for
you…Wolfram wouldn’t be alive today.” His voice seemed to tremble a bit, but he
cleared his throat and forced himself to continue in a much firmer tone. “I
want to give you lifetime tickets to the Royals games. In fact, if there's
anything you wish to have done, and if it is within my power to do so, I would
be more than willing to oblige.”
Yuuri’s jaw became slack in disbelief just as Gunter clapped his hands lightly.
“And I say we have a little party for you once you get out of this ghastly
place. If it’s okay with your parents that is…”
“Oh, it’s fine! It’s more than fine!” Jennifer chimed in with a fervent nod.
“We’d love to attend, wouldn’t we?”
None of the men in her family dared protest as Gwendal smiled in delight. “Then
it is settled. I will see to it that you are taken care of…”
“Yuuri’s not a charity case, Mr. von Walde,” Shouri cut in coolly. “He’s
perfectly fine as is and will recover without your help.”
“Shouri!” Shouma called out sharply. “Watch what you say!”
But Gwendal didn’t seem fazed at the younger man’s tone. “I understand your
concerns, Mr. Shouri Shibuya. But believe me when I say that I have Yuuri’s
best interests at heart. It is up to the boy to accept my offer or not.” He
turned to look at Yuuri again, giving a small bow. “Again, my eternal thanks to
you. My mother and Conrad should be visiting you in a few days…”
“And what about Wolfram-kun?” Jennifer asked unaware of the hard slam of her
son’s heart within his chest at the sound of the other boy’s name. “Is he all
right?”
“Wolfram is recovering nicely, thank you for asking,” Gwendal replied. “He
should be out of his cast soon and playing again. I’m sure he’ll come by to
visit when he has the chance. Now, if you will all excuse me, I will be making
my way out.” He reached for Yuuri’s hand to shake it again. “I will be seeing
you soon, Shibuya.”
“Thank you, sir,” Yuuri replied quietly, hardly feeling Gunter’s enthusiastic
goodbye, which came in the form of another kiss on his hand. He barely even
heard his parents’ farewells or Shouri’s mumbled words of departure.
All he could hear were Gwendal’s words, which seemed to echo in an endless loop
within his mind.
Wolfram is recovering nicely…should be out of his cast soon and playing
again…
Wolfram would be able to play again. The Golden Kid would have his arm intact
and could play for the minor leagues just as he had always wanted.
Damn it. Damn it! Damn it!
Yuuri closed his eyes and fell back against the pillows. Perhaps it wasn’t
justified but for the first time since the ordeal, he was unable to stop the
low seething emotions of jealousy, bitterness and anger that churned deep
within his heart.
“You know, if I were in your shoes, I’d definitely be pissed off,” Murata
said around a mouthful of chocolate. He licked his fingers clean but still
managed to leave streaks of the brown sweet on his flesh.
Yuuri, whose gaze was trained on the TV screen where a game between the
Mariners and the Lions was being played, hardly acknowledged his friend’s
comment. Two long days had passed since Gwendal and Gunter’s visit and Yuuri
was still sure he could smell the lingering cologne belonging to the
long-haired model. He had all but cringed when Murata suggested they watch the
game. Yuuri didn’t feel like watching anything. He had felt the pain would only
grow tenfold. However, he had almost forgotten Murata’s persuasive nature
(maybe knowing that the boy had been a King’s advisor in his past life had
helped) because soon enough Yuuri found himself engrossed in the game. He was
amazed at how he could still feel the familiar thrill of excitement despite his
trepidations. His fingers still itched with the need to hold a bat or to feel
the ball in his hand, but he knew that it would be a long time before he could
get himself to touch those things again.
“Not even a phone call?” Murata was asking.
Yuuri shook his head. The past two days had given him more time to think and he
had managed to talk himself out of feeling jealous and hateful towards Wolfram.
He couldn’t blame the blond for this. Wolfram hadn’t asked to be rescued and it
was his decision to throw himself in the line of fire…so to speak.
“Damn…that’s cold…” Murata mumbled but faltered as the door to the room opened.
This time instead of a nurse, the familiar friendly face of Conrad Weller
revealed itself.
“Conrad!” Murata cried out in surprise, forcing Yuuri to tear his gaze from the
television screen. A smile came to his features as the tall man walked into the
room with a large bouquet of flowers.
“Hello, Murata,” Conrad greeted with a warm smile. “Yuuri. I’m glad to see that
you’re finally awake.”
Yuuri, who was now flushed with delight at having the famous ex-baseball player
in the same room with him, sat up a bit straighter and returned the smile as
best he could. “Thanks for coming by. I had no idea you would.”
“Nonsense,” Conrad said with a light laugh as he placed the flowers on a
bedside table and pulled up a chair to sit at the opposite side of Yuuri’s bed.
“After such a brave act? You saved my brother’s life and for that I’m indebted
to you. Oh, here’s Yozak…”
The door opened again. This time Yozak, no longer in drag but dressed in casual
men’s clothing, walked into the room with a mock salute to the boy in the bed.
“Hello again, Shibuya Yuuri. It’s good to see you alive and well.”
“Again?” Yuuri blinked in confusion. “I’ve never met you…” He gasped as Yozak
cleared his throat and spoke in a familiar voice.
“Now do you remember who I am?”
Yuuri gawked in disbelief. “YO…YOLANDA-CHAN?!”
“The very same,” Yozak said with a laugh and a wink.
“But…how…why?”
“Long story,” Yozak replied with a nod, before training his gaze on Murata’s
tightened countenance. He smirked and shrugged lightly. “Which I will explain
much later. I don’t know whether to call you a fool for what you did or to pat
you on the back for your bravery.”
Yuuri flushed and lowered his gaze. “Uuum…about that…”
“It is admirable, I’ll give you that much,” the actor continued with a smile.
“But believe me, after what I saw that day, there’s still a lot of things we
want to know.”
Yuuri had a feeling he knew where this was going. “What do you want to know?”
Conrad leaned closer, an intent look in those brown eyes. “I know you don’t
want to talk about it but I have to admit that my curiosity is getting the
better of me. Yozak says that you…transformed into…the demon king?”
Yuuri’s lips tightened for a moment, but to his surprise it was Murata who
spoke before him.
“I don’t think Yuuri wants to talk about it right now,” he said calmly. He
placed his hands behind his head and rocked back and forth on his chair. “It is
true that he can transform into the Maou during extreme stress brought about by
either danger or the need to protect himself or others from harm. He’s not a
magician and can’t change anytime he wants, you know.”
Conrad had the grace to flush at the light reprimand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean
to make it seem like I wanted you to change before me, Yuuri, but…I was hoping
I could get to thank him…the demon king…personally.”
Yuuri smiled softly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, Conrad. He’s always
here within me…so I guess he can hear you just fine.” He blushed at how idiotic
he must have sounded and lowered his gaze again. He could still remember the
Maou’s words, and knowing that these men in the room with him had all been his
subordinates in his past life…it was definitely a heady feeling.
“I still haven’t regained all my memories,” Murata muttered in the silence as
he reached for another box of chocolate truffles – a gift from Gunter.
“Although they tend to come to me every once in a while. Maybe a part of me
doesn’t want to remember everything.” He laughed a little. “What about you,
Conrad?”
The ex-baseball player shook his head lightly. “No luck yet. I do find myself
walking past sword shops every now and then. Perhaps I should take that up
instead of the baseball bat.” He laughed softly. “Yozak has regained some of
his memories. He did say he found himself calling the Maou ‘Your Majesty’ and
that was about it.”
“I’m sure we’ll remember it all someday,” Murata said with a decisive nod. “We
don’t have to rush it. We have the rest of our lives to figure it out, right?
Although you’re lucky, Shibuya,” he added with a mock pout. “You have nothing
to worry about.”
Yuuri gave a sheepish laugh even though it felt forced to him. He had plenty
to worry about and if there was anyone who could help him through this, he knew
without a doubt that it would be Conrad Weller.
Ironically, it was Conrad who ended up making Yozak and Murata leave the room.
He claimed he had something important to tell Yuuri and would like to speak to
him in private. Both men left with great reluctance, and soon enough, Conrad
was pulling out the white envelope Adelbert had given him back at the camp.
He watched Yuuri’s expression carefully as the boy read the certificate of
commendation. He could see the paper tremble within Yuuri’s grasp before it
fell to his lap with a soft whisper. The boy placed his good hand over his eyes
and lowered his head. His shoulders began to shake gently and before long the
silent tears became harsh sobs. After debating within himself for a few
seconds, Conrad gave an inward sigh and moved closer to the bed. He wrapped his
arm gently around the boy’s shoulders, hardly flinching as Yuuri threw himself
against his chest to cry even harder. Wasn’t it just a few weeks ago that he
had gone through the very same thing with Wolfram? It was the same reaction –
the look of disbelief and then the hot tears of happiness at being one of the
chosen few and yet sadness at the irony of the situation.
“Let it all out, Yuuri,” he whispered into the thick dark hair below him. “Let
it all out.”
“But…but I can’t…do it…” Yuuri sobbed helplessly. “I don’t think I’ll be able
to play again…what’s the point…what’s the use of this now…?”
Conrad shook his head softly. “When I had my accident I knew it was over for
me, Yuuri. I knew that I’d never be able to throw or hit the ball as well as I
could in the past and believe me, I sank into a depression so dark and deep
that it almost killed me. In fact, there were days when I did want to kill
myself, to get rid of the pain that consumed me and to make it all go away. It
was the easy way out.”
Yuuri sniffled. “So…what…what made you change your mind?”
“Well…Wolfram slapped me awake…literally.”
Yuuri lifted his tear-filled gaze to stare at the smiling man in bemusement.
“Wha…what?”
Conrad chuckled and brushed away the tears gently. “Yes, he did. I never should
have underestimated his determination and he showed it to me on that day. He
walked into my hotel room, turned on all the lights, opened the windows and
gave me a good one across my cheek. Before I knew it, all my bottles of vodka
and whiskey were poured down the drain, the pills I had gotten were flushed
down the toilet, and he just stood in the middle of that room…with tears of
anger in his eyes and basically called me the biggest wimp he had ever seen. He
couldn’t believe I had let myself go like that and was ashamed to call me his
brother.”
Yuuri couldn’t stop the smile that came to his lips. Yes, that sounded like
something Wolfram would do all right, and suddenly he felt his heart throb with
an emotion that could only be akin to loneliness. Yuuri realized that he missed
the annoying, loud-mouth and rude blond. He missed seeing those beautiful
features either dark with anger or filled with concern. He missed hearing that
voice, missed seeing that effortless swing…he just…
“I miss him,” Yuuri finally whispered softly, so softly that Conrad barely
heard him. “I miss him so much.”
“And I know that he believes in you,” Conrad muttered into his hair. “He’s
never stopped believing in you, Yuuri. You promised you’d play with him in the
Minor Leagues and I think he’s holding you to that.”
Yuuri was too tired to argue with Conrad, too tired of telling him or anyone
else that there was no more hope for a boy like him. He could only watch from
the sidelines and perhaps he would get to cheer Wolfram on, if the blond would
let him.
“Thank you, Conrad,” Yuuri murmured sleepily as he allowed the older man to
fluff his pillows and make him comfortable on the narrow bed.
“No, thank you, Yuuri,” the man whispered softly, watching the long lashes
close slowly. “Thank you for everything.”
Yuuri was dreaming again. In this dream, he could see the door to his hospital
room opening slowly – tentatively, as if whoever was behind it was afraid to
come in. In this dream, the person stepped into the room and peered around the
small space with light disdain on his handsome features. In this dream, this
person had been his roommate for there was no mistaking the shock of blond hair
upon his head. Yuuri tried to stir as the blond moved closer to the bed to peer
at him. What was that expression in those emerald green eyes? Pain? Confusion?
Anger?
Wolfram? Wolfram, can you hear me? I can see you! But I know this is a
dream, isn’t it? You wouldn’t come to visit me after all this time, would you?
I don’t see a cast on your arm so this is really a dream or are you feeling
better now?
“You stupid, stupid wimp. Why would you do something like that for me? Why?”
Wolfram whispered as he leaned closer still. Yuuri could see the dark red stain
on the blond’s cheeks. He watched the long lashes shield those breathtaking
eyes for a moment, before sucking in a harsh breath as warm lips brushed
against his in a feather of a kiss.
Yuuri’s heart leapt in his throat. He’s…he’s…kissing me! I don’t believe it!
Oh God, he smells so good and tastes like…like… pink bubblegum…
Wolfram pulled back quickly, his entire visage now a bright shade of red. “Damn
it! What the hell am I doing?!”
No! Yuuri wailed inside. Don’t go! Come back and continue! I’ll be as
still as death! I promise!
But Wolfram was already stomping towards the windows. He took a deep breath and
threw the curtains open, allowing a flood of light to fill the once darkened
room. Yuuri groaned and wondered if he could reverse his dream, perhaps to
rewind it a few steps back where Wolfram had begun to kiss him…
“I know you’re awake, Yuuri. So you can stop pretending now.”
Huh? He knew?! His cheeks flared with color as he opened his eyes to
meet the accusing green ones across the room. He tried to sit up but groaned as
his left arm protested the sudden movement.
“I thought I was still dreaming,” Yuuri began with a sheepish smile, licking
his lips (which still had a faint bubblegum flavor) as he watched Wolfram begin
to push something towards him. “What…?”
“Get in,” Wolfram said simply.
“But…”
“I haven’t got all day, Yuuri,” the blond snapped irritably. “Daylight’s fading
fast.”
Yuuri glanced at the clock. “But it’s just eight in the morning…”
“Don’t care,” Wolfram replied with a shrug. “Now, do I have to lift you? Or are
you going to do it yourself?”
Still slightly disoriented as he swung his legs off the bed carefully, he
allowed Wolfram to lead him towards the wheelchair. He sat down heavily,
grateful for the pajamas his mother had brought for him to wear. It would have
been embarrassing having to walk around in those hospital gowns which tended to
leave his rear exposed. Wolfram looked around for his slippers and fell to his
knees to help Yuuri into them.
“Where are we going?” Yuuri asked in bemusement as the blond rose to his feet
and reached for the handles of the wheelchair.
“You’ll see,” Wolfram replied quietly.
He propped open the door with a hip and pushed Yuuri out as carefully as he
could. The hallway was quiet at this time of the day and the smells of cleaning
chemicals and antiseptic assailed Yuuri’s senses as they made towards the
elevator. As the doors opened, two nurses stepped out, both smiling warmly at
the couple. Yuuri had fully expected the women to send them back to his room
but when no such reprimand was forthcoming, he lifted his gaze to stare at his
companion in growing confusion.
“What’s this all about, Wolfram? You can’t just come to the hospital to kidnap
me…”
The blond slapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing out loud.
“Kidnap you? Why would I want to do that?”
The elevators opened and Wolfram pushed him out of it and down the lobby
leading to the hospital grounds.
“I don’t know,” Yuuri replied, aware of his quickened heartbeat and yet dull
pleasure which filled him at the same time. He was happy to see the blond…no
more than thrilled to have Wolfram with him again, but he had to downplay it as
much as possible. “You don’t show up for weeks and all of a sudden you just
appear and you don’t even have the decency to tell me what and where we are
going. What the fuck am I supposed to think?”
“Just shut up and be still. Geez! Man, you’re worse than my mother when she
nags.”
“Your mother…!” Yuuri flushed with indignation and tried to say something else,
but the words died in his throat as the cool crisp morning breeze brushed
against his heated skin. He gave a small cry of delight, unable to stop himself
from feeling a wild surge of exhilaration that seemed to fill his very soul.
Apparently, Wolfram was pushing him towards the large lawns and gardens behind
the hospital. Yuuri looked at the towering building, shivering at the knowledge
that he had been imprisoned in one of those rooms for almost four weeks. It
felt good to be outside again and yet he was curious to know how Wolfram had
managed to convince the doctors to get him outside. In fact, he was curious
about a whole lot of things and silently hoped that Wolfram would indulge him
with some answers.
“Where are you going?” he asked in mild panic as the blond ‘parked’ him beneath
the shade of a large oak tree and began to jog towards a bust statue a few feet
away. He reluctantly admired how good the blond looked in his pair of jeans and
white sweatshirt, smiling wistfully at the thought of Wolfram soon being in a
Minor League uniform and chasing after his dreams…without him.
He sighed and lowered his head, feeling that familiar dark cloud of misery try
to overwhelm him, only to gasp as he felt something brown and heavy thrown into
his lap. For a moment he could only gape at the baseball glove unable to
believe that he was actually seeing one of these again.
“Wha…?”
“Put it on,” Wolfram said quietly but firmly. As Yuuri lifted his gaze, he
could see that the blond had a baseball helmet on and was holding onto a bat
and ball. He met the cool green eyes and saw something within them that had his
heartbeat quickening again.
“Wolfram,” he began thickly, aware of the burning sting in his eyes. “I don’t
know if I can…but…why?”
“We’ve got to practice for Opening Day, remember?” came the curt reply as
Wolfram turned away quickly. His voice sounded rough and uneven as if he too
was having some trouble trying to control his emotions. “So you’re going to
throw the ball to me and I’ll try to hit and vice versa, got it? I can’t have
you slacking off in that bed, wimp.”
Yuuri scrubbed his eyes before slipping his hand within the warmth of the
familiar equipment he had thought he would never be able to feel again. Despite
his best efforts to keep the tears at bay, they slid down his cheek anyway
forcing him to wipe them away with the sleeve of his pajamas top.
Wolfram…you really are something else, do you know that?
Why, thank you, I try.
“Ready?!” the blond yelled, as he ran across the lawn to take his stance behind
the imaginary home plate. He smirked and bounced the ball in his hand.
Yuuri took a deep breath and nodded fervently, a wide grin of gratitude and
pleasure on his visage as he held up his glove. “Ready!”
“All right, here it comes!”
And as Wolfram tossed the ball into the air to swing at it, Shibuya Yuuri could
feel a familiar warm sensation of hope fill his heart again.
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