Eyes Full of Fire
His eyes looked sharp. Back home, he collapsed onto his bed in a complicated state of mind. He'd deliberately breathed in some fresh air outside to come back feeling refreshed and relaxed, but a corner of his heart remained stuffy and unsettled. The reason was all too clear.
The shady conversation with cheerleader Kim Se-rin.
He regretted asking that question for no good reason. Haa... damn, why the hell did I have to bring that up...? I should've just kept it to our usual chit-chat. She seemed genuinely concerned about him... Haa... Those thoughts just kept swirling in his head.
All he could do was flop onto the bed, stare at the ceiling, and let out a deep sigh. Still, time would make him forget, right? It was all in the past anyway. With that forced reassurance, he closed his eyes, fatigue washed over him from somewhere, and he soon fell asleep.
The next day. With several days of rest prescribed for recovery, it was awkward to do much else. So he lay there, turned on his phone, and started scrolling through YouTube.
Light short-form videos, food reviews, workout routines flowed by. But algorithms were scary things—they gradually filled the recommendations with baseball videos.
Hoo... finally... Videos with his name in the title naturally drew his thumb. Especially highlight reels of his plays; watching himself shine felt strangely satisfying.
Then one thumbnail caught his eye.
[Let's Learn About Gocheok Turkeys' Kim Hu-seong.]
The thumbnail featured his photo, and the view count was decent. Curiosity piqued, he tapped it.
Opening music played, followed by the creator's voice.
Hugging a pillow, he settled in comfortably. The video covered his high school records to his current pro playstyle. But it was better than expected.
The creator's passionate tone even got him fired up vicariously.
Khm... rest periods aren't so bad. He tapped the next video.
The next day. After cycling through baseball videos, he got serious again, studying opponent playstyles. Couldn't fully slack during rest, so video analysis it was.
The algorithm naturally suggested more. Videos from the Gwangju Pigeons' YouTube channel.
Hoo... they post spring camp and Monday training? Interesting... or is this the trend now? Maybe we'll do it too.
He rarely watched other teams' channels, but rival training? Curiosity won; he tapped one.
First up: Pigeons hitters' batting practice, bunts, baserunning routines. Team style shone through. What started as casual viewing turned focused.
Hmm... nothing too unique. After finishing, recommendations piled up. Penalty for watching Pigeons' channel: cheerleader videos flooded in.
Ack... need game footage... khm... skip? Don't watch...? What to do... But the thumbnail featured Kim Se-rin, fresh upload. He couldn't resist tapping.
The short-form clip: cheerleaders previewing the upcoming three-game series against Gocheok Turkeys. Popular cheerleaders meant solid views.
First interviewee smiled brightly.
Standard stuff. But the next one was trouble.
Camera panned smoothly to platinum blonde cheerleader Kim Se-rin, bare-faced this time—no mask like before. She was confident as ever, her smile lighting up the screen.
Whoa...
Hmm...? A slight smile flickered.
Uh? Me? His body froze. Why mention me specifically? It's a series preview. No need to name opponents.
She continued.
Her tone brimmed with conviction, shining with confidence.
...
Grind.
Monday morning, he finally returned to the training field. His body had itched madly during rest, so he'd come at dawn. By official training time, it sharpened right up. Sweating it out, a voice called from behind just before morning session.
"Kim Hu-seong."
Startled, he turned. Chief Coach stood there, Kim Young-ho manager beside him.
"Yes, Chief Coach."
"Follow me."
No choice but to obey.
"What are you doing? I said rest seven days. Why train?" Chief Coach sighed and scolded immediately.
He took a breath. Had to sound convincing, not whiny.
"I rested from Sunday to Sunday. That's plenty."
"No, that's not proper rest."
"You know, Chief Coach. Athlete rests one day, he knows it. Two days, opponent does. I've rested six already. Can't do more."
Chief Coach shook his head.
"Haa... fine, showing up today, whatever. But why solo training at 4 a.m.? Heading to majors? Pace yourself. Build up slow, play when ready."
He flinched but replied firmly.
"No. To play tomorrow... this is how. Gotta ramp body fast."
Silence fell. Then Kim Young-ho spoke.
"...Got it. Go."
"Yes, sir!" He bowed quickly.
As Kim Hu-seong left, Chief Coach asked lowly.
"What now?"
Kim Young-ho replied flatly.
"...Use him tomorrow. No choice."
Chief Coach smirked, nodding.
"Yeah. Have to."
"Haa... manager dragged by player. Tsk..."
"What can you do? Kid's eyes today were fierce. Thought he'd slack off during rest... but full of fight."
Manager crossed arms, quiet.
"Use him, or he'll break. Right?"
"Same thought. Dawn training with that glare... gotta cut training elsewhere."
"Do that. Weight and regimen strict. Kid wrecks himself; tighten checks."
"Got it."
Chief Coach noted points, relaying orders to first-team manager swiftly.