First Pitch (3)
A brief silence fell over the stands. Of course there were people who didn't recognize her, but far more who did. Moments later a roar of cheers erupted as if it might tear Sajik Stadium apart. The spectators clapped for the girl who had walked out of the hospital, welcoming her to Sajik with open arms.
The staff member beside me, camera still trained on my face, held out a microphone.
Help me out a bit.
You want me to back you up with the volume?
Yeah. Busan people like it loud.
Okay. Easy enough.
With this, one more item on the lifelong bucket list I had to finish before I died. I took a deep breath and poured everything into my voice.
"Hwaaa— Hello!!"
— Waaaaaaaaaah!!
Busan citizens really did know how to bring the heat. The cheers sent a pure electric thrill through me. I had come as a ceremonial pitcher, not a player, but I knew I would remember this moment until the day I died. Without meaning to, a shy little smile slipped out.
"Currently tied for first place! I'm Seol Ayeon, a Busan Whales fan! I hope we win today and take sole first!"
We haven't even played a single game yet so of course we're tied for first? That's so cheap.
What, why, what. It's true.
I held firm against Jeok Ayeon's jab. It was true. We hadn't played yet, so tied for first it was.
Fine, if you say so then it is.
Laughter rolled through the stands. Still, we'd probably stay top three until the end of April, right? Couldn't the season just end in April? Then a championship might actually be possible.
"And while I have this chance, thank you so much to everyone who cheered for meee!"
I bowed as deep as I could—front, left, right, and finally toward the people behind me. Now it was time.
Shall we wipe them all out, Master?
What have you even been saying this whole time…? With that guy's athletic ability he'd dodge even if I threw with everything I had.
Don't worry. If I use my power… I could slaughter them so thoroughly they wouldn't even get a word out.
Stop watching so many comics…. And cut it out with the jokes.
Aww, boring.
A staff member came up and handed me a glove and an official baseball. Alright. Let's try this. The small glove and oversized ball felt awkward in my hands, but this body had still been a pitcher for two years of high school. I could manage this much. Even after so long, the texture felt familiar the moment I touched it.
"Hoo—."
I took one more breath, stepped my left foot forward, and leaned my waist ahead. My back foot tapped the dirt lightly. I floated the glove in my left hand just in front of my knee and raised the ball in my right hand to chest height. The crowd, already catching on to what I was doing, exploded with laughter.
Laughing already was going to be a problem—this was only the beginning. Min Hongtaek was grinning, and so was the catcher. Everything I was doing was the exact routine their team's closer always used. Even the long-haired closer watching from the dugout was smiling like he couldn't believe it. I straightened up again and tucked the ball into the glove.
— Tap. Tap. Tap.
His signature routine, right down to the tap dance. Perfect. His signature pitch, the forkball, was impossible with hands this small. Fastball it was, then. No choice. The ball still felt huge. Even a three-finger fastball strained my tiny grip.
"Hup—!"
I drew in a breath and held it. A motion I had performed at least ten thousand times. I lifted my left leg and shifted my weight back. As I raised my arm I coiled my body, then drove forward, sending every bit of momentum as far ahead as I could.
Please, just find the catcher's mitt. The ball left my hand. Yes. This was more than enough to get there. I'd done it—even with this body! I sharpened my vision and tracked the spinning ball as it flew toward the mitt. In that exact instant, Min Hongtaek's bat appeared like a bolt of lightning.
— CRACK!!
Huh?
— Tap. Tap.
— CRACK!