Gum rolled between his crooked front teeth before he bit down. The green film stretched over his tongue. The weakest of snaps popped from an attempted bubble.


    A cool Siberian breeze masked a relentless Hokkaido sun. Natural grass swayed in the outfield. The tires of the pitching machine whirred as Azoria dumped a bag of baseballs inside. Her red baseball cap displayed a wheel of cheese. The white baseball shirt buttoned tightly against her chest had a red lining to match the cap. Black business slacks mismatched with the uniform top, as did black heels that were clumsy for the field. They threatened to collapse her when they dug into the grass.


    The machine shot a ball straight for the strike zone. Hiroku hit it high into the outfield.


    Azoria clapped, “Oh, nice, that one went really high!”


    The next ball hit a straight bat and bunted past Azoria straight across the pitcher’s mound before rolling to the edge of the diamond.


    Hiroku frowned.


    Whiiiiiirrrrr, blooonk!


    His eye zoomed. The bat swung. A crack followed the ball flying into the empty seats of the small stadium. Azoria jumped and clapped. She turned the machine off before running across the pitcher’s mound. Her chest pushed as she fell into hugging him. A neatly painted red fingernail dared to circle his left shoulder.


    Hiroku couldn’t resist staring at her chest, where the fabric pushed tightly against her ample perky shape. A finger pressed the bridge of his nose to gently nudge his eyes back to hers.


    Hiroku smiled, “Do you believe in love at first sight?”


    “Rwor!” Azoria whispered into his ear as her fingers slid along defined abs, “Someone is keeping to a strict training regimen.”


    An arm went around her shoulder and pressed her closer. He could feel burning warmth. Skin flushed slightly as his heart thumped. Soft hair with an odd rainbow sheen in this sun laid softly over the back of his hand. Her scent was flowery.


    “So you want to come back to my place. I’ll make you a fine steak tartare.”


    Azoria pulled away from his embrace to adjust her hair. Slender fingers flicked it back. The strands defied gravity by gliding back into place. It must have been the breeze.


    “As much as I’d love to join you tonight, you probably already know the real reason I’m here.”


    Hiroku spit his gum on the field, “Yeah, team is finished. You’re here to offer me the complimentary desk job. What service company do you work for? Well, not that at matters, but somebody at NOGAWA has damn good taste.”


    Azoria’s cheeks reddened as she spun around, “You think! That’s so kind! Thank you so much! If I was single, you’d be my fist choice.”


    “Figures you’d be taken.”


    “I didn’t say I wasn’t single. But anyway, why not take the desk job? You’re thirty-one years old. Time to stop playing games and think seriously about life’s real responsibilities. Maybe you should start a family.”


    The bat kept spinning as Hiroku practiced for imagined pitches, “I don’t even know you and you already sound like all my Ex-girlfriends. Baseball isn’t just some game. It’s all I know. It’s all I ever wanted. I lost three good women over baseball. It’s not something I can just give up,” a sigh, “I’ll talk to the chief personally, thank him for all the support. I’m going to play this game until I can’t anymore, so they can take their glorified secretarial position and shove it up a dark moist alley.”


    “That last part wasn’t grateful. I’ll make sure to leave that part out.”


    The bat swooshed with a crack against the air, “I said I’d tell them myself! I’m not a coward! How about this? How about you get lost? You’re obviously not into me for real and it’s ruining my mood.”


    Their bodies pressed as she moved behind him. Arms wrapped his waist so that her chest pressed into his back. He felt her breath at the nape of his neck. Fingers massaged his abs. Hiroku stiffened. The bat pointed to the outfield as he held it straight with elbow locked. Moist breaths tickled thin hairs along the back of his neck.


    “Am I ruining your mood now?”


    “Yes,” he grumbled, “But you can make up for it by paying for the hotel room.”


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Azoria nibbled on his shoulder before letting go. She slid her fingernail down his arm. It felt overly sharp. Palm took his wrist to raise his hand so she could walk beneath the baseball bat. Bright red eyes locked with his. Tongue slid over her lips as she blinked. Hands locked over his shoulder. Her nose almost touched his. Hiroku breathed heavily, back tensed as met her gaze without flinching. What a tease, he thought.


    She smiled knowingly.


    “You have far too much talent to be in this backwater cheese company team. It’s a pity you were never scouted earlier. I can make things happen. I can get you a spot in the major leagues before you’re out to pasture. Think of it, your big chance, you could be a household name before you retire.”


    Hiroku put his hands on her shoulders. Was she a recruiter, an honest to goodness recruiter? Had somebody finally seen his hard work? Had she noticed his true potential? Did she actually understand!?


    “It sounds too good to be true.”


    “You and I both know that worse players have gone to the major leagues. Talent is overlooked all the time, and before you know it, it’s no longer… ripe.”


    Finger clutched down on her slender shoulders like vise grips, yet it felt like he gripped warm steel bars. He shook her. Head bobbed, yet he held back. This was a slender little lady after all. Azoria snickered at the tension under his thin veil of control


    “How? Tell me how? Who are you with? Who do you know!? I want details damn it!”


    “That hurts.”


    Hiroku let go immediately and backed away, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just hard to believe. What do I have to do?”


    Azoria smiled gently, “It’s simple. First, I want to get a measure of your talent. So please play a game with me. If you can hit fifteen hits plus two homeruns from fifty fly pitches tonight, you’ll have a spot on the roster of a major league team tomorrow.”


    The bat swung to the side, “If you’re bullshitting me, we’re going on a date. If you’re not bullshitting me, we’re going on a date. Yes! Yes! Let’s do this! Fire up the machine, mix up the pitch variations however you like.”


    Azoria shrugged, “Machine? No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be the one pitching.”


    A bit of a chuckle rested in his voice, “What!? A little thing like you who can barely hop across the field? In those heels? With those very pretty little arms? With those soft hands? Aren’t you afraid you might break one of those cute manicured nails? Can you even manage a toss? I need the ball to actually reach me if I’m going to hit it over the chairs.”


    “If I can’t pitch sufficiently into your strike zone, we’ll switch to the machine.”


    Hips swayed as heels dug into the sand. A trail of prints marked the way to the mound. Though Hiroku’s focus wasn’t on the ground. He closed his eyes. This had to be a test of his focus. Even a weakling like her could manage one or maybe two decent pitches, easy hits though, unless he was staring at something other than the ball. Hiroku narrowed his eyes. Even if this was all a lie, she was worth his time, for now. If he could just take his eyes off her.


    Heels clipped against the pitcher’s plate. The heavy machine groaned as it rolled aside with a single push. Azoria grabbed a ball and tossed it in the air. It rolled, defying gravity before smacking back into her palm.


    Maybe she could manage one decent pitch. Hiroku smirked as he readied his bat. Azoria’s hips stretched those office slacks rather nicely as she twisted and wound for the pitch. It looked anything but professional. This would be quite the story for the others.


    Zreeeem!


    The ball flew by his strike zone before he could so much as swing. It crackled the air before it smacked into the heavy net. Hiroku looked back to see it drop onto the sand. Almost smoking.


    “Strike!” Azoria called, “That one counts too!”


    “Lady! Where’d you learn to pitch like that!? You look like an idiot but pitch like a demon!”


    She giggled. The next ball rolled as it went in the air and smacked in her palm. This time he swung too early. The ball dropped from her gentle lob into the strike zone and rolled past. Hiroku took a deep calming breath as he returned to the plate. The third ball already bounced over Azoria’s palm.


    “Strike Two! This is fun. I’m having fun! Are you having fun!?”


    The bat tapped the sand as he positioned for the next swing. This was all a dream. A bad dream at his expense. He’d drank some overly strong sake. It gave him nightmares about practice. That’s what was happening right now even if it felt all too real.


    “I am having fun. Major leagues or not, I like you. We should get to know each other better.”


    Another pitch flew right past him, “Strike three! I’m not interested in industrial workers batting for cheese companies. I desire real players.”


    Hiroku raised his bat, “I’m as real as it gets!”


    “Prove it!”


    The next ball cracked his skull. Left eye splattered within the socket as the right popped out and hung by the optic nerve. Another ball slammed into his chest, then another, then another. Ribs snapped like ribbons. His thumb snapped; bone splintered through the skin. The bat dropped. Hiroku collapsed into the sand. Pools of pink slimy liquid drooled from his ears.


    The wheels of the pitching machine smoked as ball after ball shot at full force against the net. Then the machine hissed to a stop. Azoria leaned over him as he choked on dust and spit. His optic nerve fit nicely between her index and middle finger as they cradled his eye. His last vision was a sweet or snickering smile. He couldn’t tell. And his ears were too clogged to hear what she said, yet somehow he understood her.


    “Sorry, seems like you’re all out of all balls.”


    <hr>


    Hiroku clutched his head. The mark glowed. Veins pulsed down along his neck as the violet glow of the eye slowly opened. Scratch covered fingers fumbled through his pocket. A small brown plastic bottle with a safety cap rolled across the floor. He dove for it, snatched it. Cap popped. A pill sat on his tongue before he swallowed it dry. He coughed, waited. Eventually, the eye closed. The violet glow faded to a glistening wet burn. Hiroku hyperventilated as he rolled on his back. A tape wrapped wood handle caught his eye. The baseball bat clattered against the mossy stone after it fell off the platform. It rolled to his left hand. He grabbed it, laid it across his chest, and switched the grip to his right hand.


    Deep breaths. Something was printed, burnt onto the bat: メジャーリーグへようこそ!