Gathering Clouds

Ichiro was completely pissed.

No matter how hard he tried, nothing was working out the way he thought it would. Initially, the game was tightly contested, with his school's rivals being held scoreless for more than half of the game. However, the situation started to change, and things were turning south for them.

The game began with Ishida effectively shutting down the opposing team's hitters with well-placed curve balls, allowing only a few walks from observant batters. As his performance started to falter slightly, Ichiro was brought in to finish the game. And things were going great, with strong pitches stunning even the most prepared batters, who almost had to do a double take once they realized the pitch had already happened. A sense of victory surged through his veins with each successful shutout inning. But it became a quickly fleeting feeling.

A batter he had already struck out approached the plate with a near scowl on his face, taking no time to prep, he glared down at Ichiro as he took his stance. That look in the batter’s eyes dared him to give it his all, and his self-determination prevented him from giving anything less. Twisting his entire body into that throw, he launched it faster and harder than he felt like he ever had before.

CRACK!

Ichiro hadn’t realized it at first. It took him almost a full second to notice the ball wasn’t in Takuya’s glove, but instead was sailing out high in the air out towards the fences. Spinning on his heels, he watched in utter disbelief as the center fielder rushed with all of his might to get under the ball, but quickly crashed into the chain link fence as the ball fell out of sight beyond the outer wooden fence.

The crowd in the stands were in a frenzy with wild cheers and boos as the runner rounded the bases. A home run.

It was only the calling of Takuya that brought Ichiro back to reality. He was still facing where the ball disappeared out of their reach, when the call for a new ball from the umpire was made. He hadn’t moved when his friend called for him to catch the new ball, so the catcher had to run up and check up on him.

“You OK, man?” He smacked his shoulder with his catcher’s mitt, trying to offer him the ball.

“Huh?” Ichiro shook himself to his senses. “Yeah, that was some hit.” He took the ball as he finally faced his friend, his eyes still dazed from the sight.

“It was just a fluke. Show them who our best pitcher is.” Takuya offered his glove out. Nodding in agreement, Ichiro smacked his glove against the other, flashing a confident smile. “You bet.”

That bravado soon faded. Unfortunately, one by one, all the batters were wising up to his pitching style, and landing solid hits on his renowned fastballs. Trying to out play them, he started to switch up his pitches, but that fell apart quickly as they found those pitches easier to hit than his fast balls.

The more he tried to react and change to the deteriorating game, he found himself essentially playing against himself, wild throws going every which way, easily walking batters that should have been struck out.

Before Ichiro took the mound, the score stood at 0-4 in the bottom of the fourth inning. By the end of the seventh, it had tightened to 4-5. Completely frustrated, his coach pulled him aside.

“You OK, lad?” the coach asked, his narrowed eyes, hidden behind his sunglasses, betraying his own irritation. “Is it your shoulder acting up again? Do you need to go to the hospital or something?”

“No, sir. I'm not sure what's happening,” Ichiro replied, avoiding eye contact and casting his gaze to the side. “I just… can't seem to focus on the game.”

With a clenched jaw, the coach assessed the exhausted pitcher before releasing a frustrated sigh. “Just sit it out on the bench for now.”

Slumping down, filled with self-frustration, Ichiro watched as the coach called over Ishida and Takuya to discuss the upcoming changes before the next inning. As they deliberated on their strategies, Ishida nodded attentively and studied the notes drawn on the clipboard with resolute eyes. Takuya, on the other hand, kept glancing over at Ichiro with a confused expression, trying to figure out what was happening with his now benched friend.

All Ichiro could do was give a wave and a brave smile to reassure the catcher. Takuya waved back, nodding firmly, before pulling his mask back over his face and returning to his position behind the plate. From his spot in the dugout, Ichiro focused solely on the unfolding game.

His mind seemed to think much clearer now as he sat on the bench, head propped up by his elbows on his knees and back hunched forward. With laser focus, he watched each play. It quickly became clear to him that both sides were playing at their top game, since the rivalry was strong. Each player made solid plays, catching and throwing with such precision, that it irked Ichiro to no end to realize he wasn’t able to keep pace with them on the field.

A bitter taste built in the back of his throat, causing him to look away from the game. To calm his tensing nerves, he cast his eyes in a sweep over the crowd. Subconsciously, he caught himself continuously doing the same thing that he was currently doing on the bench as he did before each pitch earlier.

The sea of faces swirled and meshed in his mind as none of them meant anything to him. There was only a single face he was looking for and once again he couldn’t find her even though she had promised to be there. Taking a deep breath, he clenched his teeth before turning his attention back to the game.

As the innings slowly passed, the score remained unchanged, with both teams holding each other at bay. Everyone was giving their all, and especially Ishida. His pitches were immaculate, forcing all who faced him on to their heels in trepidation. Ichiro felt a tension in his chest as he assessed the skill on display before him. Whether he was aware of it or not, he silently wished that he could do what his underclassman was doing right now.

However, as the top of the 9th inning drew to a close, it became apparent to everyone that Ishida was running low on stamina to keep up with the batters. It went from two consecutive strikeouts to three consecutive easy singles. The bases were loaded, and only one more run would tie the game. And if it were a double…?

At his wit’s end, the coach made a difficult decision.

“Ishii!” he bellowed in his hoarse voice. “Get off your ass and get over here!”

Lost as to what was happening, he followed his coach’s commands without thinking about it. Approaching his side, he felt his coach’s arm wrap around his shoulder and pulled him close with a whispered, yet still gruff from years of smoking voice, “I need you to get out there, get over whatever is messing you up, and finish this game. If you don’t show up out there, I will switch you with Ishida for second string. Got me?”

A fire burned in Ichiro’s chest. His brows furrowed and jaw clenched, he silently nodded before getting his glove to start pitching again.

Ishida was preparing to deliver the next pitch when he noticed the coach calling him back. After a moment of motionlessness, curiously watching his coach’s calls, he followed his coach's orders and returned to the dugout.

As they passed each other, Ichiro reached out to pat his teammate on the shoulder with his glove, but Ishida swiftly evaded it, making it appear as though Ichiro had simply missed his mark. He looked back at him with confusion, convinced he had heard something from his junior. He wasn't certain, but it sounded like, “Don't mess this up.”

That fire in his heart flared up once again. However, he suppressed it within his chest as he arrived at the pitcher's mound. Takuya ran up to speak to his new pitcher.

“You got this, bro?” he asked with concern in his voice.

“You think anyone else could handle this better than me?” Ichiro snapped back, glaring at his friend.

“Not what I meant,” Takuya sighed, shaking his head. “But at least you've regained that fire in your eyes. Let’s show them how we do things around here.” He extended his gloved hand up in the air before him once again, and Ichiro grinned as he smacked the glove back once again, both of them heading to their designated positions on the field.

The next batter took his spot beside the plate, practicing his swings. Ichiro chewed inside his cheek in frustration in realizing who the batter was. The same one who got the first score for the other team by sending his fast ball practically into orbit. He knew that he had a quick eye and could handle any pitch delivered by Ishida or himself if given enough time to watch and learn.

He wanted to try his fast ball again, maybe he could put even more power behind it and mess up the batter this time. But then a loud clap seized his thoughts as Takuya patted his glove with a balled fist before getting back into position. The catcher nodded knowingly to his pitcher, the silent communication setting Ichiro back on track.

Taking a deep breath into his glove, he calmed his nerves. At that moment, Ichiro understood what he had to do. He waited for all the players on the field to take their positions while keeping an eye on Takuya's signals. Once ready, he wound up his pitch—a hard curve ball that stayed within the strike zone but just out of the batter's swing. Strike one.

It went just as Takuya’s hand signals they had practiced for years had predicted. Shaking his head with a soft smile on his lips, Ichiro caught the returned ball and began to trust his best friend’s calls again.

For the next pitch, he threw a sinker that caused the batter to swing hard and wide, completely missing it. Strike two. Ichiro could sense the batter's growing frustration, which was exactly what he intended him to be. He observed the batter getting into his stance, his eyes laser-focused on every movement at the pitcher's mound.

Then, he delivered a change-up—a deceptive fastball that came out of his hand seemingly with speed. The batter swung, but the swing was incredibly early, and the ball softly tapped into Takuya's glove.

“Strike three! You’re out!”

Since their team was already leading, they didn't need to bat. The game was over. As his teammates rushed to celebrate their decisive victory, Ichiro nearly collapsed to his knees. He hadn't realized how tense he was until he tried to join in the cheering with his teammates.

Among the celebratory chaos, he noticed that one player was not as enthusiastically engaged. Ishida was in the mix but seemed distant, only reacting frustratingly to the others who were attempting to uplift him and carry him around. An annoyed expression remained constant on his face, growing even more furious behind his glasses when he locked eyes with Ichiro.

Yet another spark ignited in his chest. He wanted nothing more than to get down from his teammates’ shoulders and march up to Ishida and demand an explanation for his attitude towards him. There was nothing he had done to deserve such ire, and it ground his gears to see those sideways glares tossed his ways.

However, before he could approach Ishida, the celebration began to move away from the field, and Ichiro was carried along with it. As the team spilled out of the gates and into the open air, each player began to disperse and celebrate with their families and friends who had come to watch the game. And once again, he found himself alone.

He watched with a burning itch in his chest as the buzzed head boy disappeared amongst the cheering crowd.