Don't Want to Make Up?
Even though I'd gone down on a strikeout, Gordon Perry came up behind me and knocked a base hit that advanced the runners. Then another hit followed, and Greg crossed home plate.
With a four-run lead, our bullpen scraped and clawed its way through the rest of the game. In the seventh and eighth, they gave up five hits total but held the damage to a single run. Then our one and only reliable closer came in and shut the door.
And as for Ho-min, who'd been bouncing off the walls earlier—
"...What the hell are you talking about right now?"
He hadn't even thrown the sinker he'd whispered about. And then he'd run for it.
The second the game ended, I grabbed the idiot who'd pulled that completely incomprehensible stunt and demanded an explanation. What he gave me was pure nonsense.
"I mixed them up. Confused him with a different pitcher."
Was that supposed to be an excuse?
"You lunatic. Then you should've said something the second you realized you were wrong!"
"Me? What was the interpreter supposed to do about it?"
"...Did it never occur to you to tell the manager or a coach? That you'd given bad info and needed to correct it?"
"I just... honestly figured that pitcher would throw a sinker anyway. Every right-hander around here throws one, right? Ow! Aagh!"
My fist shot out before I even knew it. It wasn't a calculated decision. The second that garbage left his mouth, my body just reacted.
Ho-min took two solid shots to the ribs and started wheezing like he was dying. I wanted to land a few more, but he was making such a racket that every eye in the place locked onto us, so I had to hold back.
"And you call that an excuse... No wonder I waited forever and that pitch never came."
"Ugh... Why didn't that guy throw a sinker, though?"
"..."
Should I just kill him?
Would that even count as a crime?
We must have been making too much noise, because a few guys wandered over. Eric was among them, asking what the hell was going on.
And Ho-min, ever the helpful one, answered him in full detail.
"Pwahahaha."
Was it really that funny? The whole group was losing it. A couple of them were even clapping while they cackled.
"Eric. If I kill this bastard right now, am I going to jail?"
I said it in Korean, so Eric had no idea what I meant—which meant Ho-min helpfully translated it into English for him.
This absolute maniac... was interpreting the part about me killing him, too.
Eric snickered again and said something back.
"He says you'd probably be fine."
How dedicated was this guy to his interpreting job? I couldn't decide if that was professional or just empty-headed.
After the game, Gordon Perry sat for an interview.
The man could hit, I'd give him that. Whether he was just in an unusually good groove or what, everything he put a bat on turned into a base hit.
Honestly, I couldn't have cared less whether he did interviews or not—until I found out he'd mentioned me in one.
"Look up what he said."
This was the kind of thing Ho-min was genuinely good at. I told him the moment we left the stadium, and sure enough, he had a tablet in front of my face in seconds.
"..."
"What? What'd he say? Did he trash you?"
"You think he'd trash someone in an interview?"
"You do it."
"When have I ever?"
No matter how loose I got with my mouth, I never cursed anyone out in an interview. I just... took the scenic route around it.
"So what did he say?"
"Hang on. Let me finish reading... Wait, what does this even mean?"
Too many words I didn't know. Reading was still a work in progress for me.
In the end, Ho-min took the tablet back and started reading the article out loud.
"Uh... the reporter said the team atmosphere seemed good."
"And?"
"Then he apparently brought up your name out of nowhere."
"Yeah, so what did he say?"
"'Kang Hajin is the best pitcher in the world.' Ooh~"
"..."
"'He throws an absurd variety of pitches, and every single one of them is elite-level.' Wow, he really went all in, huh?"
"..."
"'On top of that, his command is perfect. This player has the talent to sit at the absolute top of the big leagues. I've never seen a pitcher like him.' Whoa~"
"Ahem. Well... he only said things that are true."
They were true. Not a single word out of place.
"Heh... Hold on, it's not over yet."
"O-oh?"
"'And at the plate, he shows a remarkably seasoned approach. From what I understand, he's only been hitting for two years. Even so, he's dismantling Major League pitchers with ease.'"
"Come on... it wasn't exactly easy."
"'We've finally acquired the complete player we need for the championship we've failed to win time and again.' End! Everything after that is about something else."
"Ahem. Right."
"...Are you embarrassed?"
Honestly? A little.
"No? Not at all? It's all true, so why would I be?"
He'd hyped me up so thoroughly it was a bit mortifying.
"You really have no shame."
"What was that? Everything he said was accurate."
I wasn't about to show weakness in front of Ho-min. I stuck to my guns and pretended none of it fazed me.
Judging by the little snorts of laughter, it wasn't landing particularly well.
Still, though...
"Why is this guy suddenly pumping me up?"
Even for an interview, it was pretty unexpected. He could've just mumbled through some generic answers and moved on.
"Maybe he's trying to make peace?"
"Huh? You think so?"
Ho-min's theory actually sounded plausible.
Was that really it?
Thinking about it, Gordon Perry hadn't so much as touched me since that first-day incident. He hadn't picked fights, hadn't said a word about the dedicated catcher arrangement, and whenever our paths crossed, he'd just look the other way and slip past.
The result was that right now... the best way to describe us was that we both acted like the other didn't exist.
"So what are you gonna do? Make up?"
"..."
"What? You don't want to? Wow—he's the one extending the olive branch here."
"That's not it, you idiot."
What was I supposed to do about it? Walk up to him and say, Saw the interview, I'll graciously accept your offer to bury the hatchet?
"That'd make me the crazy one."
This bastard, I swear.
"I'm asking if you'll take the signal when he sends one."
"Signal? What signal?"
"Doesn't have to be words. You know—like saying hello, or something like that."
"Uh... I mean, I guess?"
Wasn't that a little childish?
We weren't elementary school kids... exchanging awkward hellos after a fight as a coded Wanna pretend that never happened?
What even was that...
"That's not what I—"
He was looking at me with something that felt a lot like frustration.
"Ah, forget it, forget it. Just drive already. It'll work itself out somehow."
"You're a real piece of work. Zero generosity."
No matter how I looked at it, I still felt like I hadn't hit him enough earlier. I should've properly beaten the daylights out of him while I had the chance.
The car, which had been idling while we watched Gordon Perry's interview, started moving again. But Ho-min's mouth didn't stop.
"That guy, though."
"..."
"Apparently he's not as rigid a hardass as you think."
"...Who called him a hardass?"
"You did."
When did I?
I'd said he seemed like he was trying to establish dominance from day one, and that I didn't like the weird faction-building vibe—but I'd never called him a hardass.
"Same difference. Anyway... I heard that if he decides something helps the team, he'll take a personal hit for it."
"...But isn't that just normal for a captain?"
Seo Gyeongmin, our captain back with the Savers, had been the same way. Hell, even that miserable excuse for a human being with the Dragons had, for all his faults, worked pretty hard on anything team-related just because he wore the C.
"This isn't Korea, you know~"
He said it in this weird, singsong voice, like he was teaching a child. Kind of like a kindergarten teacher.
I felt another surge of irritation.
"Anyway... about that 'faction' thing you mentioned. Honestly, it might not even be that serious."
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"Well. The guys who came up through this organization have been looking up to him their whole careers, so of course they follow him naturally. The trade acquisitions get looked after a bit more by Eun-hyung... At least, that's what some people say."
"Who?"
"That's not the important part."
No, that was exactly the part I was curious about.
"Be honest. Think back to your Savers days. You mostly hung around with Mandeok-hyung, Hyeon-bin, and a handful of other guys, right?"
"That's..."
"It's the same here."
"...Then what about the pitchers? They keep to themselves completely."
"I didn't ask about that far."
"Why not?"
"Didn't think of it. Honestly, their presence is kind of..."
What a terrible person. Talking about people's "presence" like that.
And this was the guy lecturing me...
"So what's your conclusion?"
"I don't have one?"
"..."
"If I had to force one... Friends fighting is okay~ Not okay?"
"Did you take the wrong meds or something..."
First he mixed up pitchers at the ballpark... now he was doing random kindergarten-teacher impressions...
Something was clearly wrong with whatever he'd ingested.
The car turned into the alley where our house was. Another hundred meters and we'd be home.
"Ah!"
Ho-min suddenly shouted like something had just hit him.
"What?"
"...I, uh, I forgot something."
"What is it?"
"Th-that, uh, Song-yi asked me to pick something up for her. I'll go grab it real quick—you head inside first."
"Huh? If it's not far, I'll just come with you. Where are you going?"
"N-no. Just go in first. Get out. Hurry."
He practically shoved me out of the car, then swung it around and drove straight back out of the alley.
We'd already made it this far—he could've at least dropped me at the front door.
I grumbled my way toward the house at a slow walk, then ran into the old man from next door standing out front with some bags and exchanged a quick greeting.
This old man... he'd hated my guts at first.
Now he was the one initiating warm hellos.
I'd given him well over ten signed balls by this point. Something about giving them to kids...
"Does he have ten grandkids or what?"
I was about to finish the greeting and move on when—
"Ah! Tell your mother it was absolutely delicious."
"Sorry?"
"First proper Korean food I've ever had. Outstanding."
"...Right."
What was he talking about now?
Then it hit me—Ho-min's panicked face as he dumped me out of the car and fled. That expression and those movements, like something was chasing him... like he'd completely forgotten until the moment we got home.
"No way."
I didn't have to look far. Our house was right next door.
And there, sitting at the table in our front yard, were my parents, deep in conversation about something.
"You absolute son of a bitch."
That bastard. He'd known. No question.
So why had he run?
Had he been supposed to tell me and just... forgotten?
Once I thought about it that way, everything clicked into place.
Why Han Song-yi hadn't mentioned this ahead of time—or why my parents had shown up without a word—was still a mystery. But that empty-headed friend of mine had clearly forgotten the whole thing completely.
"I should've hit him harder... should've half-killed him..."
My soft heart was always my downfall.
Now that I had a rough picture of the situation, I opened the gate and walked in like nothing was wrong.
"Mom~"
"Oh! Our son's home!"
"Dad~"
"Yeah. Good work out there."
"...F-Father-in-law? Mother-in-law?"
Two more figures emerged from the house a beat later. Han Song-yi came out with her arms linked through both of theirs.
"You son of a—"
Not just my parents—her parents had come too, and he'd forgotten that?
I shoved the shock aside, greeted the two of them as warmly as I could manage, and made a silent vow.
That empty-headed bastard was not getting off easy.