[Eng] Battery Control: The Slaves' Connection Chapter.1

Yuta and I go way back—we've been battery partners forever. We went from the same middle school to the same high school, still together.

But then he got chosen as captain of our baseball team, and things changed between us.

He'd always been stupidly serious, hated anything crooked, stubborn as hell.

After becoming captain, he got even worse. Seemed like he was stressing about all kinds of stuff. Pressure, I guess. His pitching's been all over the place lately. We haven't talked much recently, but we've been together so long, I could tell just from catching his pitches.

Still, we might be a battery, but I'm just another team member. Not like I've got the brains to give him advice or anything.

I figured he'd be fine. He's Yuta, after all.

But he seemed way more stressed than I thought—so I was thinking maybe I should, I dunno, listen if he needed to talk.

I mean, when it comes down to it, I know him best.

"Ah, shit. No phone."

I'd made it all the way from school to the station before I noticed. About to go through the turnstile when it hit me.

I dug through my bag—no phone anywhere.

"You okay, Noguchi? Leave it in the clubhouse?" The guys who'd already gone through were looking back at me.

Come to think of it, we'd been talking about stupid crap since leaving the clubhouse. Hadn't touched my phone once.

"I'm going back for it."

"Alright, we're heading home then." They waved and headed for the platform stairs.

Cold bastards. I clicked my tongue and started back toward school.

Obviously it was dark out. We'd practiced late, so no students were coming from the school direction.

Oh yeah—Yuta had stayed behind in the clubhouse today too. Something about "meeting with Coach," I think he said.

So maybe he's still there.

I felt a little relieved. Then thought, why the hell am I relieved?

Well, if he's there, I could grab my phone, wait for his meeting to finish, and we could head home together for once. Been a while.

Yuta had been really off his game until recently, but lately he'd bounced back like he'd been reborn or something.

Just when I was worried enough to offer a listening ear, he suddenly seemed fine.

Maybe he had some secret. Yuta's whole vibe had changed.

Probably got himself a girlfriend.

That pissed me off. Here I am, still single, jerking off alone all the time.

Tch.

Thinking about that crap, I reached the school. All the lights were off, dark and deserted.

But I'm not some kid who gets spooked by that.

I crossed the field toward the clubhouse and—something was off.

Around the clubhouse building, right by the baseball team's room, there was this green fence thing set up.

What the hell? This wasn't here when we left.

There was a sign on it. I went closer to read:

"Scheduled Maintenance in Progress — Athlete Growth Corporation

No Entry for Non-Authorized Personnel Until 9:30 PM Today

*Air Conditioning System Sterilization & Special Anti-Mold Coating Application

Health Hazard from Chemical Inhalation"

What the hell?

Nobody told us about this. Felt weird as I read the rest of the sign.

Below was the principal's seal and an "Approved" stamp.

"For maintenance inquiries, contact Athlete Growth Corp. Facilities Management Division" with a phone number.

If that approval stamp was legit, then nothing here was wrong. Just normal maintenance work.

But something felt off.

Like it was saying don't come in. Absolutely do not come in.

I'm not the type to just obey something like that. But this felt really weird.

Then I realized.

Wait, where's Yuta?

He said he had a meeting with Coach.

Somewhere else? But the school building was pitch black.

And anyway.

If there was maintenance like this, Yuta would definitely have told the team. Someone might come back like I did.

I crossed my arms, tilting my head.

Still, couldn't go home without my phone.

I grabbed the fence and pulled hard.

Must've been a rush job—it tilted easily, leaving enough of a gap to squeeze through.

Said something about health hazards, but a little bit should be fine.

It's fine, it's fine.

I told myself that, left my equipment bag there, and squeezed through the fence gap.

Inside, I could see the clubhouse door right away.

Dead quiet. Didn't feel like any maintenance was happening.

Through the small frosted glass in the door, I could see dim light.

Someone was in there.

This was getting weirder. What were they doing?

The door was cracked open slightly, light leaking out. The flickering light looked like candles or something.

On the door was a notice in red letters: "Chemical Application in Progress — No Entry Without Respiratory Protection."

Definitely not normal. Even I was getting second thoughts, wondering if I should turn back.

Then I heard a voice.

Yuta's voice.

No mistake. How long had we been together?

I know him best, in the end.

So I was sure. That was his voice. But in a tone I'd never heard before—feeling both unease and fear, but also some kind of duty as his childhood friend—I slowly approached the door and peeked through the gap.

Candle flames flickered, illuminating the clubhouse interior. Large shadows danced on the lockers and walls, changing shape with each flicker.

In the center stood Yuta.

Still in his uniform. The mud-stained uniform from practice, standing straight with his hands at his sides.

In front of him, sitting on a folding chair—

"Excellent, Hamanaka."

That voice told me—Coach.

But Coach's voice was in a tone I'd never heard either.

Coach Yama was our team's alum, young and approachable—that was his reputation.

Lots of guys found his "When I was on the team" catchphrase annoying (fair enough), but he looked out for the team and was popular with the players. Still—

"Aptitude and evaluation both—a rare, excellent specimen."

Hearing Yama-san say that, his voice was definitely off.

"Thank you very much."

Yuta's response was strange too. His usually bright eyes were clouded, staring vacantly into space.

Standing rigid without moving a muscle, more intense than even before a game—

Yama-san stood up, the folding chair creaking unpleasantly.

Yama-san's hand reached toward Yuta's face. The way he stroked Yuta's cheek was bizarre, like... petting a pet? Touching a well-made statue? —or like with a lover? ...Anyway, it wasn't normal.

Even with that creepy touch on his cheek, Yuta didn't react, just kept staring sharply into space.

What was Yuta doing?

What was Yama-san doing?

I was captivated by the strange scene in the clubhouse—couldn't look away.

Then I smelled something weird. A gentle smell? Sweet smell? Something that clouded your head, made you spacey.

By the time I thought "this is bad," I was already captivated by that smell too—the option to leave had vanished from my mind.

Yama-san removed his hand from Yuta's face.

"Your condition's been good lately, right?"

"Yes, very much so. I've been able to abandon my doubts, and my mind is clear."

"That's good. It's all thanks to Them. We are merely offerings for the gods—you understand this?"

"Of course! Through Coach Yamaoka's mental unification! I've abandoned the various doubts I harbored! I've become a doll meant to be offered! To become an even finer offering for the gods, I continue my training—preparing this body for sacrifice!"

Those eyes staring straight ahead blazed with strange light. Clouded eyes reflecting the candle flames eerily.

That was weird, I thought. When he first joined, straight-laced Yuta called him Coach Yamaoka. But everyone else called him Yama-san, so eventually Yuta did too. So Yuta only properly called him "Coach Yamaoka" before really important games.

Which meant right now—

Even thinking about it, my head was too foggy to put thoughts together. Ah, this smell. This weird smell was making my head fuzzy.

"Excellent work."

Yama-san said.

"I want you to continue working hard to make this team into beings like us."

"Yes! I will unify the team's minds as well, unify... ggh, ugh."

Yuta's face, which had shown no emotion, twitched and contorted slightly.

Brow furrowed, mouth twisted. A pained expression.

"Oh my, you're 'disturbed.' I thought you were already sufficiently 'unified.'"

As he spoke, Yama-san smoothly raised his hand, bringing his fingertips toward Yuta's forehead.

Then, mercilessly, he jabbed sharply at the center. Pushed by it, Yuta's head tilted back.

As his head tried to return, Yama-san kept jabbing at his forehead.

Each time, Yuta's body shook—twitch! twitch!

"Ah, ahh..."

Dumb sounds leaked from Yuta's slack mouth.

With each jab, Yuta's eyes rolled upward, trembling higher and higher.

"Ahh ah, ahh ah, aah, ah, ah, unify, unify, unify the mind."

Such trembling words spilling out.

Yama-san kept his back to me, speaking in an ice-cold voice.

"That's right, not just you, all the team members must be unified."

Tap, tap, tap, he jabbed.

Yuta had stopped convulsing—arms hanging limp at his sides, completely at mercy.

—Do you understand?

Yama-san lowered his arm and asked Yuta.

Yuta snapped back to rigid attention. His crotch bulged and trembled in his uniform.

"Yes! Everyone, unify! Unify, I will!! Everyone's! I'll unify their minds!! It's wonderful!! I'll do anything for it!! Please let me!!"

Eyes rolled back completely white, drool running down, Yuta made his declaration in a loud voice.

I'd been swallowed by the bizarre atmosphere, but that loud voice suddenly brought me back to my senses.

—What the hell were they talking about?!

This was wrong. —This was definitely wrong!

Abnormal!

Anyway, I needed to get out of here first. I thought that, but—

"By the way, how's it going with Noguchi? Has the 'treatment' progressed?"

Hearing those words, I couldn't help but strain to listen again. They were talking about me.

"No, Noguchi hasn't received 'treatment' yet."

I heard serious Yuta's voice. Usually Yuta called me Tetsuichi. He rarely used my last name. Only in really formal situations.

So that meant current Yuta really wasn't normal.

And 'treatment'...?

What were they talking about?

"Well, that's fine. His aptitude and evaluation are both low anyway."

—Low priority too. Anytime will do.

Yama-san said dismissively. Yama-san never usually talked about me like that. So I understood I was being insulted somehow, but the situation was too bizarre to know what to do.

"Compared to him, you're excellent."

Saying that, Yama-san reached for Yuta's face again. Seeing that creepy touch, I finally understood what I should be doing.

Right, anyway—I had to save Yuta first!

I finally arrived at that important realization.

I had to save him from this insane place.

"Tetsu...ichi..."

Yuta's voice leaked out. A bit of light returned to Yuta's eyes—

"Oh my, still attached to him? ...This requires 'readjustment.'"

"He..."

Yuta's twisted expression. I unconsciously pressed closer to the door—the rusty door creaked.

Yama-san turned toward me. Yama-san's face was strange too. I felt like I understood.

Yama-san had something done to him too. That kind of face.

"Oh, Noguchi. What are you doing here at this hour?"

Yama-san called out with just a smile pasted on his lips.

"Didn't you see it said no entry?"

"I, I..."

I tried to say something but couldn't form words.

To me cowering, Yama-san said,

"Well, perfect timing. Let's do the 'treatment' now. Hamanaka, offer that Noguchi there as tribute to us."

Yuta groaned with a pained face.

"Ngh, ugh..."

"What's wrong? Can't do it? You can, right? You're an excellent offering. Work for the gods. This is the perfect chance to show you're an excellent offering."

Saying that, he rapidly jabbed at his forehead with two fingers—tap tap tap.

"Offer him, you'll offer Noguchi, offer him to the gods, as an excellent offering you'll offer Noguchi to the gods, that's your mission, understand, understand, understand."

With Yama-san muttering in his ear,

"Gah, ah, aah, ahh, ah, ah, aaaaaahhh!"

Yuta's eyes rolled back white, foam dripping from his mouth. Arms held behind in attention stance, his convulsing face trembling—by the time he faced forward again, Yuta wore a strangely serene expression.

"Yes! I, Hamanaka Yuta, shall offer Noguchi Tetsuichi as tribute to the gods!"

His crotch trembled, and a wet stain slowly spread. Did he just—

Yuta strode toward me with large steps. I couldn't move from the overwhelming situation.

Why, I wondered, then noticed the room was filled with that strange smell. Right, this wasn't a normal smell, shit, this was definitely—

"Stop...it."

Even as I spoke with a tangled tongue, Yuta didn't listen, circling behind me and roughly pinning my arms.

Even struggling desperately with weak strength, Yuta's power was unimaginably stronger than usual, I couldn't resist.

My head spun, I shouted desperately.

"Stop, st-stop, stooop...!"

"Now then, Noguchi, it's time for the ceremony. You'll become an offering for the gods too."

Yama-san said, his fingers approaching my forehead—