Dad's Advice and the Piggyback Tumble
"Haa..."
Back home, I let out a small sigh. I stood there in the entryway, took another deep breath, and headed to my room. ...Not enough. Still not calmed down, I made a beeline for the bathroom instead. My face in the mirror looked flushed for no good reason, so I turned on the cold water. Scooping some into my palms and splashing it over my face brought a bit of relief, cooling me down. My mind cleared for a moment.
But those words wouldn't fade. 'I'll wait in my own way. Until you accept a confession.' ...No, what kind of girl says something like that? It just made me embarrassed for no reason. I roughly dried my face with a towel and flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. Yoo Sera popped into my head. No, please. Jeong-ui, snap out of it. I shook my head several times and refocused.
In the end, I came back to the simplest truth. To get a confession, I needed to improve at baseball—fast. Good enough to win the championship again. That realization plunged me into another dilemma. How could I make my skills grow quicker? Was it even possible? My thoughts spiraled.
Then, a option I'd been avoiding on purpose floated up. Dad. I'd wanted to do baseball without his help. To prove myself as Kim Jeong-ui, not just Kim Jeong-seok's son.
"Haa..."
But today, I set that stubbornness aside, just for a moment. I crept up to Dad, who was sitting quietly in front of the TV, and tried to sound as casual as possible. "Dad. How do you get good at baseball?"
Dad, caught off guard by my sudden question, didn't even set down the remote. He kept his eyes on the screen and asked back, "Talking about pitchers, right?"
"Yeah."
I nodded curtly. Dad paused, as if thinking it over, then dropped some surprisingly straightforward advice.
"Kids these days don't run much."
Huh? Don't run? Did I ask the wrong person? The guy who'd made it to MLB wasn't seriously gonna pull out the effort card, was he? Sure, everyone puts in effort, but...
Dad continued in his usual even tone. "Pitchers need to run—a ton. Back in high school, I'd run until my whole body was drained, then do training. But kids now don't seem to do that. That's the starting point for becoming a good pitcher."
The starting point? That?
"When you're that exhausted, pitching feels off in your arm, right? That's the moment. Learn to throw properly when you're powerless, and later, when you have strength, that feel carries over. You can pitch longer, harder, more fluidly. It creates a chain reaction."
Right then, I realized Dad wasn't treating running like some basic stamina drill.
"Got it. I'll give it a try."
"Good."
The second I got back to my room, I was lost in thought again.
"Dad's not wrong..."
Thinking about it, yeah. At Jeon-san High, we didn't do that much running. Training wasn't slacking, though—afternoons were packed. No time for long runs.
That left one option. Morning. I'd have to use more morning time. Decision made. Fine, get there 30 minutes earlier and run 30 minutes extra. No other way.
The next day, I arrived at school even earlier than usual.
"Hoo. Let's do this."
The 30-minute run was familiar now—no gasping for air. My steps had rhythm, breathing steady. The issue? Adding another 30 minutes.
Today, 30 more. Just like I'd planned. First 10 minutes? No big deal. By 20, legs felt heavy. At 25, I knew I'd messed up. Last 5? Pure willpower. Speed dropped to a near-march, but I refused to stop.
Finishing the hour, I collapsed. Sweat poured out everywhere.
"Haa... haa... Shouldn't have done this in the heat... Ugh..."
Body wrecked plus sweltering heat—I felt like I was dying. I bolted to the showers to cool off. Shwaaa. Cold water hit, pooling around me, snapping my mind back. I shook out my wet hair roughly and headed to class.
The moment I entered, I face-planted on my desk. Maybe my actions stood out today—Yoo Sera leaned over quietly.
"You okay? Not sick, are you?"
I turned my head just enough. "I'm fine. Just ran a bit more, so extra tired."
Words out, eyelids drooped. Fatigue crashed in.
"Gonna nap."
I passed out.
......
Woke up—first period over.
"Huh?"
Blank for a sec, then it hit. I sat up. Next routine popped into my head. Move now. I stood and headed to the biggest guy in class.
Then Yoo Sera grabbed my arm.
"Jeong-ui, you're gonna piggyback a friend for squats again, right?"
I stopped, nodded shortly. "Yeah."
She narrowed her eyes, face half-teasing, half-serious. "Then... can you do it with me?"
My brain froze. Imagined piggybacking Yoo Sera for squats. No matter the hold, her skirt meant something awkward. Neck heated up just thinking it.
How do I handle this? Gotta refuse...
As I scrambled, she tilted her head. "Don't wanna?"
Ah! That face with that move—foul play! Uwaaa.
I blurted excuses. "Sera, this isn't a joke—it's training. You're too light right now. Weight training starts heavy and goes lighter. You'd have to be last. Get it?"
Perfect excuse. I calmed a bit, added an escape hatch. "So... let's think after class."
After class, she'd head to practice. No squat time. Nailed it!
Sera pouted briefly, then nodded like she bought it. "Mm... okay."
I exhaled tiny. Swallowed a sigh and went to piggyback my friend for squats.
Class ended, classroom emptying fast. Chairs scraping, palms sweeping desks, footsteps flooding the hall.
I roughly packed my bag for afternoon baseball. Reaching for the strap—someone grabbed my arm. Reflex turn. Yoo Sera.
"Huh? What?"
"Promise."
Promise? No way... the squats?
"...Squats?"
She nodded. Now? Kids were leaving, but not empty yet. Hall traffic during squats? I hunted for an out, found one.
"Sera, but... your skirt. Could get embarrassing."
She squinted, laughed like it was ridiculous. "Fine if it's just us, right?"
"Someone might pass in the hall."
She pondered. "Then piggyback me."
Jaw dropped. "Huh? Piggyback?"
"Yeah. Piggyback's fine. Can squat like that."
I scanned the ceiling mentally. Height... tricky.
"Won't your head hit?"
She calculated instantly. "Should be okay when you squat."
I inhaled short, nodded. "...Fine."
Sera circled behind. "Sit, Jeong-ui."
I squatted. She steadied her breath. "Going up."
One leg over my shoulder. Squeeze....Sera's leg on my shoulder? Heart pounded huge.
Other leg followed. She adjusted above my head. "Good. Stand now?"
I rose carefully. Core tight, knees straight, balance. She wobbled. Instinct—hands out. Waist? No. Legs? Worse. Safest: grabbed both her hands, pulled down.
"Oh!"
Hands touched—she gasped short. "Stable now."
"Squats time."
"Yeah."
Heart's gonna burst. Hurry and finish sloppy.
I bent knees. Down, up. Thighs tensed. Next down...
Legs buckled. Damn, ran too much today!
"Whoa? No."
Body folded forward. But not me falling—Sera might. No time to think—arms powered. Twisted her, twisted me.
"Jeong-ui?"
Thud.
Floor neared—I yanked her into a hug. Rolled her sideways, took the impact. Next instant, we lay tangled on the floor.