Why Did You Do That?
"Why did you do that? Kim Hu-seong."
After the interview wrapped up, as I was packing my gear in the locker room to head home, a voice called out from behind me. I turned around to see the hitting coach standing there. What could this be about? His expression was ambiguous—somehow pleased, yet tinged with disbelief.
Ah… probably because of the home run.
The hitting coach walked up beside me and got straight to the point. "Hu-seong, where'd you learn that? I heard you went overseas for some training on your own."
"I trained with Senior Kim Ho-seong in Florida, USA."
The coach's eyebrows shot up. "Ah… Ho-seong? Yeah, I've heard he's a good teacher. So that's where they suggested switching to right-handed?"
"Yes."
I nodded. "As you know, I had a lot of bad habits with my left swing. And crucially… now that I can't use my legs properly, it was getting hard to capitalize on the advantages of lefty hitting."
I tacked on the line I'd prepared in advance, just like clockwork. "Plus, I'm originally right-handed, so it didn't take long to switch back."
As soon as I finished, the coach smacked his forehead and clicked his tongue. "Agh! I can't believe I missed that. I should've recommended right-handed myself. I overlooked a diamond in the rough."
He let out a small sigh. "Well, since we're on the topic, let's take a closer look at your swing. Do a little extra batting practice before you go. Don't feel bad about it—I should've had you do this earlier today after being late. This is just a quick session to wrap things up."
I wanted to get home so badly it was crawling up my throat, but I couldn't argue. After all, I had shown up late today. Ahem… No helping it. Besides, the coach's attitude had done a complete 180, and flat-out refusing would've felt awkward.
"Got it…"
And so, on my way out, I got roped into the batting cage for a full bucket. Thwack! My body reacted on instinct every time the ball came in. After swinging like a machine for weeks, knocking out a bucket wouldn't take long. Thwack!
One disconcerting thing, though: every swing brought a commentary from the coach beside me.
"Mmm, yeah." Thwack! "Whoa…"
The hitting coach let out a dry chuckle. "To think you could hit like this. Beautiful form—beautiful."
Thwack! "That's it, that's it. Yeah, good."
This is getting embarrassing.Was he always like this?Crack! The ball rocketed toward the cage netting like it might tear right through.
"I hate saying stuff like this, but with a toothpick, you'd hit .300, and with chopsticks, .400."
The coach suddenly burst into exaggerated laughter. Thwack! "Damn, that's killer. With Lee Hoon out, it was stressing me on offense, but this changes everything."
I finished the bucket, caught my breath, and set the bat down. Sweat trickled down my temples. I asked cautiously, "Coach, that enough?"
The hitting coach nodded with a satisfied grin. "Yeah. Perfect." He patted my back. "Training you on hitting's gonna be fun from now on. Hahaha."
…Well, as long as you're happy.
I ended up leaving the stadium much later than expected. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I trudged toward the parking lot with a deep sigh. Great, now my commute's even longer.
That's when I heard it. "Oh my, is that Kim Hu-seong?"
A woman's voice rang out on the way to the parking lot. I turned to see a group of cheerleaders clustered together. Most were new faces I'd never seen before. Ah! The new Turkeys cheerleaders!
"Yes, hello."
As I greeted them, they swarmed over like a wave. "Today's game was so cool!" "Wow, you're even more amazing in person." "Seeing you up close, you're way handsomer…"
Their words tumbled out over each other. I laughed awkwardly for a second. But… feels pretty good, doesn't it?
"Haha… thank you."
I could only muster an embarrassed grin. Requests for autographs and photos followed right away. I obliged every one—no rejections. I signed their notebooks, took their phones for selfies.
That's when it happened. "Huh? Hu-seong-ah."
This voice was way too familiar. Something fresh and electric hit me at the same time, making me whip my head around on reflex. There was Kim Se-rin the cheerleader, dragging her suitcase. She'd come out late, a straggler.
…Ah! You idiot. Of course she'd be with the other cheerleaders.
Kim Se-rin spotted me surrounded by the cheerleaders and her face twisted ever so slightly. She glanced at me, quickly smoothed her expression, and strode over purposefully.
"Perfect timing, Hu-seong-ah." She stood in front of me, all casual. "Give me a ride? My legs are killing me today. Walking's tough."
…?
The air around us shifted subtly at her words. One of the cheerleaders nearby perked up, eyes sparkling. "Huh? Se-rin-ah, you know Kim Hu-seong well?"
Kim Se-rin didn't hesitate. "Yeah… kinda. Neighborhood noona."
"Aw~ I see. Wait, neighborhood noona?"
"Neighborhood noona?" The cheerleaders' gazes locked onto me at the phrase.
Neighborhood noona…? Huh? Neighborhood noona?
"Yeah… now that you mention it, that fits best."
"Right?"
"Yeah. We live in the same neighborhood, but… we don't even have each other's numbers. We just run into each other sometimes on walks."
"You guys don't even text? No DMs?"
"I don't do that."
I answered the cheerleader's suspicion quickly, trying to defuse the situation. "Anyway! Ladies, quick heads-up: I just got