❛ 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 ❜ ✓

10

          A WEEK AND ——— a half passed ever since that dream, and I couldn't fall asleep. Every night, I was in constant fear of falling asleep and dreaming about anything regarding Ken Sato. Whether it be baseball, driving, late-night walks, him...

It didn't help that I saw him every day at work, his presence was a constant reminder of the vivid dream that had left me feeling both flustered and confused. I found myself avoiding him, keeping our interactions as professional and brief as possible. Yet, despite my efforts, I couldn't stop my thoughts from wandering back to that dream.

On top of that, the sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on me. My energy levels were plummeting, and I felt like a zombie, barely able to keep up with the demands of managing the team. Coffee was the only thing that was keeping me awake.

One evening, after another long day at the office, I sat at my desk, rubbing my temples and trying to push through the fatigue. Just then, there was a knock on the door, and I tensed up, hoping it wasn't Ken.

"Come in," I called out, my voice weary.

The door opened, and to my relief, it was Coach. He stepped in, a concerned look on his face, "You alright, kiddo? You haven't been at the top of your game for a while," he said, closing the door behind him.

I sighed, looking down at the papers scattered on my desk. "I'm just tired, Coach. Haven't been sleeping well."

Coach Shimura frowned, crossing his arms as he studied me. "You've been pushing yourself too hard. The team needs you at your best, and that includes taking care of yourself."

"I know," I replied, rubbing my temples. "It's just... complicated."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with my vague answer. "Complicated how? Are you getting nightmares about... y'know what again?"

"What? About my dad? No. No, no, no," I shook my head, "It's some personal stuff—don't worry, Coach,"

More like stupid...

He sighed heavily, "You always say that. You know, I'm worried about you, kid. It's not good to keep these things bottled up inside of you. I know what you act like, and I know that you won't say anything to me or your mom, but you gotta tell it to someone, a friend or stranger, or whoever. Talking about whatever it is may help, kid. You need to start taking care of yourself just as you take care of those other players,"

I looked down at my desk, feeling a mix of frustration and exhaustion. Coach Shimura's words hit close to home, and though I wanted to brush them off, I couldn't ignore the truth behind them.

"I know you're right," I admitted quietly, finally meeting his gaze. "It's just... hard to open up. I don't want to burden anyone with my problems."

Coach's expression softened. "You're not a burden. And you don't have to go through it alone. Everyone needs support, even the people who are supposed to be strong. It's okay to lean on others."

I nodded slowly, absorbing his advice. "I'll think about it. Thanks for being there, Coach."

"Course, kiddo," all of a sudden, he snickered, "You know, you and Sato are pretty similar," he mentioned, "I gave him the same talk just yesterday. Boy's been beaten rough the past few days."

He's right.

Ken has been late to games and leaving abruptly in the middle of practice more frequently than he has the other weeks. He's also been slumped more than usual, yawning tiredly more and even sleeping during break.

Curiousity piqued me, and I raised an eyebrow, trying to surpress a smile from the mention of his name, "Sato? Really? What's been going on with him?"

Coach shrugged, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Just personal stuff, I guess. I don't know the details, but he seemed like he could use a break. Have you seen his eye bags this past week—hold on..."