#shoopart

To: Mec ( @dekuboya ) From: Jessie ( @shoopart ) for @oofurixmas 2017

Hey dude! I have for you, a shortish fic about Sakaeguchi, Oki, Mizutani and Izumi switching places in the defense lineup…disclaimer in that I don’t know that much about how baseball practices are run if at all, and I drew mainly from the sport i actually do. so. inaccuracies probably, but hopefully not too many? And hopefully I did your boys right!

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!! So sorry this has come in just under the wire!!

Rating: G Total Word Count: ~1500 No warnings apply except for a swear or two

[[READ MORE]]

It begins, like all bad ideas do, with Mizutani. And as with most things Mizutani does, it begins with him opening his big dumb mouth.

“So what’s being a baseman like?” he says, and Izumi squints at him. They’re all laid almost flat out on the floor, being handed water bottles and riceballs by a worried-looking Shino’oka. Momokan had been forced to cut practice short, because of the unseasonable heatwave; Izumi can barely feel his legs.

“It’s fun,” mutters Sakaeguchi. He’s put his back up against the wall, which was a smart move. Izumi wants to become one with the dirt.

“Well, yeah, it’s baseball.” Mizutani acknowledges. “But like - you guys don’t have to run, right?”

Sakaeguchi and Oki shoot him confused looks. Tajima, who would probably have jumped onto Mizutani’s sternum by now, is rolling around outside because he is a demon who actually likes how hot it is.

“Have you seen a single baseball game, Rice?” Izumi interjects. “They gotta chase people down. Plenty of running.”

“But that doesn’t happen often,” Mizutani presses. “And they don’t have to run far, just to the other base, usually.”

Oki looks visibly confused, now. “Are you…saying we don’t work hard?”

“NO! No, of course not,” Mizutani squawks, which honestly relieves Izumi, who was sure he’d have to muzzle him. “I mean like. ’Cause you guys have to throw so fast, I was trying to say, do you ever feel lopsided?”

Now they’re all looking at him like he’s grown a second head.

“I do,” Mizutani blithely rolls on, sticking his condensation-wet water bottle to his neck. “I mean, I gotta run so much in outfield, and then you guys know my at-bats are pretty weak, so my legs always feel dead, but my arms aren’t as much. Do you guys feel the opposite?”

Surprisingly, Sakaeguchi starts nodding. “I can see that. It’s just my shoulder, really.” He touches it lightly, as if dusting his sleeve. “I have to make a lot of quick throws.”

“Same here,” Oki says. “And when I subbed in for right field I noticed it was different.”

Izumi can conjure the post-game euphoric ache and, surprisingly, he can kind of agree; the problem is he’s usually swinging so hard at bat, and throwing so hard from center field, that it almost matches how sore his legs feel from sprinting. But it’s close enough to the truth.

He catches the gleam in Mizutani’s eye too late to stop him. “What if we switched?”

“What?” Izumi snorts. Sakaeguchi turns delicately green. Oki, too, looks apprehensive, even though he was fine as right fielder.

“I mean – not for an official game. I just want to see how the other half lives!” Mizutani whines. “You guys all did baseball before high school, right? I’ve never played it seriously before. What if I’m stuck on left field for the rest of my life?”

Izumi frowns. “Awful cocky to assume you’ll be a regular for life.”

“Izumi!” Mizutani reaches over and plants his water bottle right on Izumi’s cheek, and Izumi scuttles away not just because it’s gone almost warm from Mizutani’s body, but also because it’s got his sweat on it. He puts his back up against the wall like Sakaeguchi’s done, and instantly feels better.

“It sounds fun, though.” Oki fidgets, and blurts, “I’ve only played first baseman. Right fielding that one time was scary, but it was kinda fun.”

Mizutani grins at him and crows, “Oki and I are switching!” while Izumi and Sakaeguchi give each other a look.

“I’ll do it if you do it,” Izumi says.

“Do what?” asks Momokan, appearing suddenly, like a mirage come to life. The only thing she’d done to fight the heat was tie her hair up; maybe she and Tajima came from the same demon family.

It took a few seconds to repeat what they said, but Momokan got a glint in her eye. “We do need to get you all familiar with different positions,” she says, putting her hands together. “Might as well rip that bandaid off all at once.”

–

Izumi flinches when the ball comes flying at him at face level, catches, pivots, and hurls it at Mizutani, who almost doesn’t have time to turn pale before he’s fumbled the ball and it drops at his feet.

“This is horrible!” he shouts over his shoulder, where Sakaeguchi, Oki, Suyama and Tajima are running drills while Momokan hits balls out to them.

Sakaeguchi looks like he can barely breathe, but he manages to lift his head and shake his head vehemently. Izumi turns back around and snatches another ball out of the air before it takes his head off.

“HANAI.”

“Sorry!” Hanai looks stricken. “I thought you could see me wind up.”

“I mean, I could,” says Izumi, feeling a little on edge. A lot on edge. He’s used to Hanai’s throws having more of a delay, because they’re crossing a field, not barely thirty meters.

Abe calls from home, “Once more!” and Izumi wants to die a little bit, but he sends the ball home, and then receives the ball in a blistering crack as it hits his glove. Izumi’s definitely played baseman position before, but he’s starting to realize that the power a middle schooler has pales in comparison to high schoolers. Abe’s built like a brick shithouse. Hanai has an arm cast from whatever they cast baseball bats out of.

Mizutani seems to be doing a little better when he throws to him, and Coach is doing that half-smile she does when some plan of hers comes to fruition, and all Izumi can think – in between Abe barking out instructions, Mihashi turning and whipping the ball to practice defending bases, and Hanai throwing full fucking force, is that he’s never going to leave outfield again. Outfield is a dream. All he has to do is run.

When Coach calls an end to the practice and turns them loose to pick up all the balls before the light dies, Izumi falls into step with Oki. Oki’s breathing hard, but he doesn’t look unhappy.

“I like first base,” he says, and for once he doesn’t seem so nervous. “You guys can have the outfield.”

“Yes, please.” Sakaeguchi calls, from where he’s hobbling around. “Is this what you were talking about, Mizutani? I do sprints. I do lots of sprints. How are my legs like this.”

Mizutani just points to his shoulder and winces theatrically from the opposite side of the field. It’s supposed to be short work to grab all the baseballs and put all the equipment away, but somehow Izumi keeps lingering; he keeps asking Oki how he deals with all that pressure, and then Sakaeguchi is drawn into discussing how his glove is ridiculously shallow for outfield work. Mizutani joins in, obviously, when Sakaeguchi laments once again about how slow he is.

In short, Momokan has to actively wade in and give the team as a whole a firm, but gentle reminder that they need to clear out; and when Izumi looks around, he sees that the other guys are also drawn into small groups, discussing defensive merits.

“Truth be told, I’m glad you guys got to switch it up today.” Momokan says, patting Mizutani on the back. “Thanks to Mizutani, we can understand better what everyone’s doing in a game – and exactly what they do to achieve that.”

Mizutani colors when everyone shouts “Thanks, Mizutani,” mainly just to mess with him. But the color doesn’t really leave him, even when they all unlock their bikes, and finally Sakaeguchi elbows him and asks, jokingly, if he’s really so surprised.

“No, I, um,” Mizutani mumbles. “It started just cos I wanted, to. Talk to you guys.”

Oki and Sakaeguchi nearly stop in their tracks. Izumi can’t stop the snort in time, and Mizutani turns on him, mouth made up into a frown.

“Shut up, Izumi.”

“We see each other every day!” Izumi puffs, trying to keep his snorts from turning into full-force laughter. “You couldn’t think of something better than ‘hey, you guys like being basemen?’”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Sakaeguchi says lightly, but he’s trying to mask his grin too. “We still don’t know much about each other, after all.”

Izumi blinks – he’s right. Izumi’d never thought about it before, but it was only four months into the year, and while he knew Sakaeguchi’s bunt like the back of his hand, and Oki’s surety on first base, and that Mizutani would and could dive for the stupidest reasons – he doesn’t know much about them outside of the team. Hell, the only reason he knows anything about Mizutani is that the dude doesn’t stop talking.

Oki manages a smile at that, and rubs the back of his head. “To be honest, I only know Shin-Nishihiro, and, I didn’t know how to start with everyone else…well. I’m glad you decided to talk to me. And Sakaeguchi.”

“We’re friends now.” Sakaeguchi says, patting him on the back. “We know what outfield’s like, and we’re never going back.”

“Hey.” Izumi points at Sakaeguchi. “Second base is stressful. At least in outfield I know where to throw.”

Mizutani has recovered a little and looks a little hopeful, a smile tugging at his mouth. From the corner of his eye, Izumi can see Oki’s smiling back at him, and turns to clamp his hand on the back of Mizutani’s neck.

my ghost, where’d you go I can’t find you in the body sleeping next to me what happened to the soul you used to be?