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Eijun week continues with the prompt Childhood/Home. Iâm sure he spent a lot of time exploring the woods near his childhood home. Forrest bkgd courtesy of CSP. #eijunweek
Eijun week continues with the prompt Hobbies/Day off. What better way to spend a day off reading manga with your beloved partner. (Yes I know the book cover is backwards but I forgot to consider this until the end lol) #eijunweek
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Eijun week day 2 prompt Team/Bonds. I went with the strong bonds created by the occupants of room 5. Poor Asada is still a bit overwhelmed tho lol. #eijunweek
Summary:Â Â âOur birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.â - Jean Paul
Snippets of Eijunâs birthdays over the years. They all hold one thing dear. Him.
He was born kicking and screaming. It hadnât been an easy twelve hours â he had gone breach, they couldnât convince him to rotate, and when he was finally ready to greet the world, his mother had very little energy left to push.
But when he was finally born, when the doctor held him in her arms, he cried loudly. A wail that echoed in the room and out into the halls, even through the doors. The sound was as deafening as it was heartwarming. Even with all the struggles of his birth, even through all the pain, he had made it out alive and was healthier than anyone expected.
With his loud cries and flailing limbs, many of the staff assumed a career in athletics. Even weeks after the new family left with their screaming child, they would joke around about which sport would lead the boy to their clinics for an injury. They had no doubt he would make a name for himself in this cold, hard world.
He had the lungs to show it.
By the time his fifth birthday had rolled around, he had already decided many things about the people around him in his short but meaningful life.
His mom was the best person. He loved her to bits, and was always looking forward to spend time with his âkaa-sanâ in the kitchen. He liked to sit on the counter and play with the small cooking set sheâd bought him, as she cooked their meals. He was a lot of help!
His grandpa was amazing. Not because the old man was loud like him, or that he would get red slaps from his grandfather if he was too annoying. But because his âjijiâ Â knew so much, and was always ready to sit him down and teach. He liked to sit on jijiâs knee and play horsey. He bounced really high!
His dad was weird. He was loud like jiji, but just as caring as kaa-san. But he spoke about his city days a lot â he never understood why Tokyo was so cool when Nagano was already perfect. But âtou-sanâ was fun to follow around on the farm. He got to feed all the cows with is tou-san.
Oh! And waka-chan scared him. She was really good at finding the biggest beetles, and she finished her food faster than he ever could. She also had this stare that would go on for hours when he did something she was âsupid.â But she was fun to play with, and her smile was pretty.
But most of all, he knew he was loved, his loud voice and all.
The day he turned seven, he woke up to crying.
He had gone to bed really excited the night before, after all he was going to be seven years old, and would be a big kid! He had been super excited about playing with all his friends, and his tou-san had even agreed to join them for a game of baseball. The kind where all the kids were essentially on the same team and were just having fun together. Of course, he was the pitcher â he was always the pitcher, and waka-chan was always the catcher. She was the only one who could catch his pitches.
But instead of being woken up with a face full of kisses by his kaa-san, he felt a soft shake on his shoulder. Instead of the gentle voice of his father singing a slightly off key rendition of âhappy birthdayâ, he heard his motherâs voice hitch in the background as she suppressed tears. And rather than hear threats of getting birthday slaps from his jiji, there was an empty space in his room.
He had been scared, listening as his parents spoke to each other in hushed voices one last time before they turned back to him. When they broke the news to him, he had screamed, denying the truth as if time would turn back simply because of his shouting.
His jiji was in the hospital, he had gone through a heart attack during the night and had been rushed to the hospital. What his parents didnât tell him was that it hadnât been just one heart attack, but sixteen. His grandfather had suffered sixteen consecutive heart attacks that felt as if he had been torn apart from the inside out.
So he screamed and shouted, not wanting to accept the idea that his jiji wouldnât come home to play with him that day, wouldnât hold him as he blew out the candles on his cake â though he had originally planned to refuse being held since he was a big boy today. Through clenched hands that rubbed at his sore eyes, he could see that his mother had begun crying softly, even as she held him tightly in her lap. He could feel his fatherâs hand stroking his hair as his sobs finally managed to lessen. By the time his chest was heaving from the exertion of crying, he had already decided something.
If he couldnât have jiji with him at home today for his birthday, then they would go to the hospital to celebrate his birthday there. He demanded as such, grinning widely even through the tears that lined his lashes. With all the spirit and positivity of a child he immediately began ordering his parents around, asking for his birthday clothes and wanting to take a bath alone. He asked for breakfast to be taken with them â had jiji eaten?
His parents smiled at each other, a smile that hid more than it showed. They nodded at all his requests, and even indulged him by packing an extra box of breakfast for his grandfather. The small family headed to the hospital, a large backpack on his back holding the still warm breakfast, and a couple toys for him that his parents had forced in alongside the baseball heâd thrown in. They hadnât let him take his pet beetle, though they promised that if jiji was feeling better he would come see it soon.
The hospital was too quiet for him. People in long white jackets walked quickly around their family, voices low as they checked clipboards in their hands â his mother said they were doctors as she nodded her head politely at them. He wanted to run to his jiji as soon as possible, and hug him as tight as he could. The longer they walked, slowly so that he could keep up with his parents, the more frustrated and angry he felt. He wanted his grandfather, and he wanted him now.
But, he was a big kid today. Waka-chan had said that once he became seven he shouldnât cry at everything because that was childish. So he fought the tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes, turning his fear into anger as he tugged on his parentsâ hands to make them move faster. His voice became progressively louder, shouting that he wanted to see his jiji immediately.
By the time they got to his grandfatherâs room, he had already reached a very high decibel, and was ignoring his parentâs futile efforts to calm him down. It was only when they stopped at the door to the room that he quieted down, hesitant to walk in and see the truth of the matter. During all the time before they made it here, he had been loud and in denial of his grandfatherâs state, but going in would break his well-crafted mental story. But feeling the support of his parentsâ behind him, one hand on his shoulder, the other gently squeezing his hand, he let out a shaky breath and pushed the door open.
In the end, his grandfather wasnât fine â he was stuck in the hospital for a few more weeks under observation, and the doctors were concerned that he was at risk for another heart attack. But he came home eventually. And to the scared seven-year old, thatâs all that was important.
His jiji was home.
On his tenth birthday, he spent most of the day outside with his friends, playing baseball with his friends. All his friends came to his house, early in the morning to wake him up and drag him outside. Of course they were all well fed and taken care of by his parents â a morning of American pancakes and syrup as his first âcakeâ of the day. Then everyone went outside to play, walking towards the local baseball field with mitts and balls haphazardly thrown into a bag together.
His voice was loud as he ran ahead, calling back to everyone to hurry up. His friends sprinted to catch up to him, easily keeping up with him as they all ran to the field. He immediately hounded his dad, who was holding the bag of baseball supplies for his mitt. Sliding his hand into it comfortably, he clenched his palm, bringing the edges close together and break it in for the day. It was the mitt heâd received last year on his birthday â his father had taken him to Tokyo, just to go to a big fancy sports store to pick out a pitcherâs mitt. It was already beginning to fray at the edges, though he had been slowly learning to sew and fix mitts thanks to Wakana.
They spent most of the day playing a makeshift game â not enough for there to be two teams so they circulated the players continuously till all of them had a chance to bat and field. Of course, he got to play as pitcher each time it was his turn on the field â birthday boy rights! And no one made fun of his batting abilities, instead shooting him overly serious looks. He didnât know that the the only way for them to not laugh, was to bite their tongues.
He had never been a strong batter.
Still, they all had a good time, laughing at him when his grandfather almost tricked him into eating natto before switching it out for an onigiri instead when they all took a break from the game. His resulting shout of âGRAMPS!â and the pout on his lips only set them off even harder, before he joined in laughing as well.
It was a fun day, and when he went to bed, exhausted from the events of the long day, there was a wide smile on his face. His parents stood at the entrance to his room, watching as he puttered around â putting the baseball that his Gramps had given him, alongside the mitt from his previous birthday, on the shelf with a gentle reverence. He quickly sagged from tiredness, but managed to clumsily drag himself to his bed. The parents quickly tucked him in, his kaa-san pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, while the rough hand of his tou-san ran through his hair. As they left the room, they wished him a good nightâs rest and a final soft happy birthday. His eyes slipped close slowly, even as he clearly fought the pull in an attempt to reply. Even through the tiredness, he managed to push out a response that was as loud and lively as ever.
âI love playing baseball â I want to play with everyone forever!â
By the time his sixteenth birthday rolled around, he had barely thought about the date or even time of day for more than a few minutes. It felt that all his time was now heavily invested in learning everything he had missed out on.
Books, after articles, after recordings of baseball games. He spent hours pouring over baseball statistics, trying to imbibe the knowledge that other players had grown up absorbing over time. It felt like the distance between him and everyone else on the team was growing wider.
Both in knowledge and talent.
And if he wasnât reading and learning, he was following Chris-senpaiâs training menu. He was still internally screaming at his disrespectful behaviour when he met the third-year, and if it hadnât been for Miyuki and Rei-chan snapping him out of it, he wasnât sure where he would have been now. In an attempt to make up for every rude comment he had said, some that he had thought, he followed Chris around a lot.
In some way, he thought it would balance out his lack of attention and care with an overloading of attention. There was a reason math and science had never been his strengths.
But still, he smiled and would load an extra large heaping of rice â Chris-senpai needed all the extra strength and energy he could get.
But still, he shouted out an offer to wash Chris-senpaiâs back â if his shoulder was hurt, maybe washing up was slightly difficult?
But still, he grinned widely each time he got to be of some use to Chris-senpai, even if the catcher was only grudgingly accepting. It made him feel a little less useless.
And if he wasnât staying around Chris, he was practicing â aside from all the stretching and body-developing training. He was pitching and running. Fielding and batting (bunting). He was living and breathing the field â he even dreamt of it.
So by the time his birthday rolled up, he had all but forgotten the date. Only remembering when he received a call from his family and friends. He was too busy to do anything else, so it was never brought up with anyone at Seidou, though somehow a few still found out.
The extra pudding that showed up on his desk, the lack of wrestling moves, the mangas that showed in his bag. All of them made him smile and shout louder. He might not have mentioned it, but people still remembered it.
His grin was infectious as it was boisterous.
Today was his seventeenth birthday.
And this time he felt a little different. He felt more at home in his skin, at ease in his place. He was still fighting for his spot on the team, the rest of the players too talented to let him rest on his laurels just yet. But he didnât feel as alone, as if he wasnât as important.
When he had woken up this morning, it hadnât been like last year where no one had really addressed his birthday. Kuramochi-senpai had tackled him to the ground as soon as he stood up from his bed â had the third year been waiting for him? So he responded with a comment about them now being the same age. It hadnât gone off well.
Entering the cafeteria, he had been greeted by many of the team, all wishing him a happy birthday, that had put a large grin on his face. The smile from Harucchiâs face couple with the small gift bag had made him shout in excitement. Only the soft smile turning more malicious had made him pause in his loud exclamations. But not even that could damper the joy he received when Miyuki offered to catch for him â neither Nori-senpai or Furuya argued.
He whooped loudly, a large smile on his face for most of the day.
When his inevitable call with everyone back home began, he still spent most of it talking about baseball, rather than his birthday. Everything was about the practice games, the upcoming Summer tournament, and his pitching. His parents only got to squeeze in a âhappy birthday Ei-chan!â after his Gramps threatened to come to Tokyo and smack him.
He was loud and boisterous on the phone, gesturing as if they could see him. And from his friendsâ laughs, he almost felt as if they could see him.
Baseball practice felt no different, always gruelling, and always fulfilling. He pushed himself even harder, knowing that with his seventeenth birthday, it meant he was one step closer to being done. To his high school baseball career done. And though he rarely ever thought about the future, it was on his birthdays only that every year he thought about what the next would hold. So he played harder, more viciously in each pitch, as if the batter in front of him was only an obstacle in his way.
He didnât see the admiring looks of the first years who were practicing beside him in the bullpen, nor did he register the auraâs of his fellow pitchers igniting from the blatant challenge each of his pitches sent. His focus was absolute, and nothing would break it that day. After all, how often did a person get to seventeen and still get to do the thing they loved?
So when it was time for situational practice, and Katoaka-kantoku put him on as pitcher, he couldnât help the loud cry of excitement. And the rest of the team couldnât resist the temptation to indulge him. Just this once.
